#but no it cuts to a fucking hole in viktors chest

[straylaughs]

man what the fuck jayce holy fuck

[bluebells-and-dragonflies]

viktor (arcane) nsfw alphabet <3

-> hello viktor nation. haven't been able to get this guy out of my mind for the past four weeks, so! here you go! also consider this your formal invitation to scream about him in my inbox i would LOVEEEE to write more about him............

alphabet template is from the.coldest.goodbye!

-> content warnings: sex, edging, blowjobs, pussy eating, dom/sub dynamics, discussion of kink, reader has a vagina, viktor loves you like a lot, 18+ MDNI MDNI MDNI I MEAN IT

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Viktor gets very soft after sex. He'll curl up into your side and bury his face in the side of your neck, pressing his lips into your skin.

You'll help each other to the bath (and you do have a bath- it's one of the few luxuries Viktor indulges in) and soak together, sometimes for hours, you leaning against his chest or him leaning against yours depending on the night. He'll tell you how good you were, how good you are, how much he cares about you, and you'll call him a sap and wash his hair for him. Before long, though, he'll drag you back to bed, ready to fall asleep with your limbs tangled together.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

If you have tits he's obsessed with them to the point that it's kind of a joke between you. After some of your rougher encounters you'll look at yourself and realize there are bite marks and bruises all over them and that it's very visible unless you wear a shirt with a super high cut.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

One of his biggest turn-ons is coming inside of you. He'll lean down with his face between your thighs and watch as his come leaks out of your hole. And then he'll push it back inside of you with two slender fingers.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

If he had fewer morals he would definitely steal your underwear. As it is he just fantasizes about it constantly. Inhaling the scent of them while he gets himself off, maybe even wrapping them around his dick and coming into them. If you ever get this fantasy out of him definitely hide a pair in his jacket pocket or something, he'll basically explode.

Also he has a recurring fantasy about watching Jayce fuck you...

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's sort of in the middle. He's had enough sex to be good in bed without you having to guide him much, but he's never been promiscuous: for him, sex is a means to an end more than anything else. He goes out and gets his needs met when he has the urge every once in a while and doesn't do anything more involved than that. It's more of a maintenance thing and less of a habit. He's never been in a serious relationship before (or really had strong feelings for anyone) either, so sex is casual to him. Then, of course, he meets you, and sex starts to mean much more than just getting off when he needs.

Side note but I've got a personal hc that the culture in Zaun is super cavalier about sex and doesn't treat it as particularly taboo. Which means that Viktor doesn't try to hide his sex life, even before you're sleeping together, and it probably drives you insane thinking about what he must be doing.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything that puts him physically above you he's going to be a fan of. He loves seeing you underneath him, getting to watch every single expression on your face and every involuntary shudder. That said, there are going to be times where he's in too much pain to hold himself up for very long. Then he loves for you to either ride him or just lay between his legs and suck him off, running your hands up the sides of his body and toying with his nipples.

If you held a gun to his head and made him pick just one position, though, it wouldn't be any of those- he would want you to sit on his face. He absolutely fucking LOVES everything about it. He loves the weight of you on his shoulders and chest, he loves when you grind against his chin and mouth and nose, helplessly chasing your release. He loves feeling your come cover his face. He loves your hands in his hair, gripping tight and holding his head still so you can use him. He's obsessed.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Viktor can get giggly during sex, which surprises him as much as it does you. There are plenty of times where the vibe is less serious, where you're grinning at each other like idiots and high-fiving in the afterglow. If you're at the point where you're having sex regularly he's already thrown caution to the wind with you. You make him feel comfortable and his willingness to laugh and be vulnerable together is a direct result.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He trims every now and then but doesn't do anything more than that- no shaving or waxing or anything.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

In serious moments Viktor worships you. He wants to take his time. He fucks you slow and deep and kisses you during, gasping into your mouth at the peak of every thrust. What he feels for you is so large and devotional that it scares him. He wants to bury himself in you, would crawl inside your chest and live there if he could. He's desperate for you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He gets off to the thought of you and doesn't feel bad about it at all lol. Some people have a bit of a hangup about masturbating to people they know, but not him! He's got entire scripts in his mind and he follows them religiously: playing with the tip of himself when he's imagining you lapping at the head of his cock like a kitten, holding the base of his cock with two fingers when the version of you in his head decides to make him wait to come. This is happening before you ever get together and before you even know he's interested, and he'll look you in the eyes like he didn't lick his come off his own palm that morning, picturing your tongue instead.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Oh he's a freak LMAO. Kink isn't necessary to him at all and he'd be okay with a vanilla sex life, but if you're down he has a whole laundry list of things he knows he likes and an even longer one of things he wants to explore. He's into bondage, edging, overstimulation, and minor painplay (stuff like spanking, gentle choking, and giving, not receiving). He will sub, especially if that's your inclination, although he slightly prefers domming. Edging is his absolute favorite and he can spend entire nights on it, watching you slowly unravel until you're begging for him with tears in your eyes.

He doesn't quite know it yet, but if you ever bring up the idea of fucking him he would be VERY into it.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He vastly prefers the bed over anywhere else. It's by far the most comfortable for him. That doesn't stop him from wanting to fuck you elsewhere, though. It goes without saying that he'd daydream about bending you over the lab desk.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He's just as into the basics as the next person- of course he gets turned on when you lean past him and he can see down your shirt, or when you're at a party together and you run your hand down his arm so slowly he can't mistake the look you're giving him for anything but want. What surprises him is how turned on he gets by you simply existing in his space. Something about having you in his apartment, the domesticity of it all, really gets to him. Once, in the early days of your relationship, he comes home late from the lab and finds you in his bed, dressed in soft pajamas and already asleep, and the rush of affection and desire that hits him is so strong he has to go to the bathroom and jack off in the shower.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

As much as he likes the dom/sub dynamic he never wants to seriously hurt you or be seriously hurt. He's also not a fan of degradation beyond teasing condescension- he's never going to pretend he doesn't want you or call you stupid or threaten to find someone else, even as a kink thing. Also, spit and come are the only two bodily fluids he's really interested in.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He's obsessed with eating you out, but as much as he loves pleasuring you with his mouth, he loves seeing you with his cock down your throat more. He'll restrain himself as much as he can, but he won't be able to stop his hips from making shallow little aborted thrusts once you've bottomed out on him. Your mouth takes him completely out of his head.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Generally on the slower, deeper side. He's a scientist first: he's going to be methodical with you, carefully measuring his actions and watching how you react, especially in the first few months of having you. He maps you out like you're a country he's just discovered, learns you with the same attention and devotion he gives his most serious work, and never forgets a single one of the things that make you moan.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He's down, but it's not his favorite thing. If one or both of you gets desperate in the middle of the day (if you go out of your way to tease him), he's certainly not above bending you over the nearest flat surface. In ideal circumstances, though, he wants to get you in bed and spend a little longer with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Viktor is one of the most risk-tolerant people in the world. He'll try almost anything once. You never have to worry about suggesting something too outlandish for him because basically nothing is lol. No promises that he'll be super into it after, but he figures he won't know until he tries.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It depends on what sort of lasting you mean. Viktor appears immune to attempts to turn him on throughout the day and can stay completely composed while taking you apart over and over again- he has immense self-control and won't snap easily. However. If you're playing a more dominant role, he melts under your hands once you've got him in subspace (it takes some time to put him there, but once he's in it he's in it). Suddenly everything you do- every touch, every word of praise you give him- has him straining against whatever rules you've set for him. He will beg if you make him.

In terms of how long it takes him to come, he's not especially slow or especially fast. He does find it harder to last when you're having sweet, slow sex, though. At the end of the day what really undoes him is the fact that you love him.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Yeah, he's definitely engineered a few of his own sex toys. He also definitely engineers them with you in mind. He would love to watch you squirm with a vibrator buried deep in your cunt, or come clenched around a fucking machine.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is the world's biggest tease, before and during sex. He'll flirt with you throughout the day- a hand on the small of your back, fingers trailing down your spine, a foot dragging up the side of your calf when you're seated across from each other- only to divert his eyes and pretend you're losing your mind when you react.

As mentioned above, edging is one of his favorite kinks. He'll wait until you need to come so badly you're almost incoherent and then make it even harder for you: Speak up, my love. Use your words. I'm finding it difficult to understand what you want.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

More of a groaner than a moaner and not super loud in general. If you want to hear him really break, tie his hands to the headboard and bring him to the edge with your hands and mouth until he starts to beg. Then keep going. (Alternatively, tell him you love him- he'll say it back and won't be able to stop.)

Also he's incapable of shutting the fuck up during sex lol. He's going to keep up an entire conversation with you (and smirk when you start stuttering over your responses). He's going to tell you how long he's wanted you. He's going to tell you how good you look. He's going to tease you incessantly. Annoying as hell!!!

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Viktor almost never curses in general. It's just not the way he talks. Usually. During sex he gets absolutely filthy- the first time you ever hear him say the word fuck is the first time you ever wrap your hand around his cock, and he doesn't stop after that.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His cock is canonically huge LMFAO I agree with the show here. Hard he's somewhere between seven and eight inches. It'll be a bit of a stretch the first time he slides inside you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Viktor's sex drive is fairly high but before he meets you he tries his best to pretend it's not. He thinks of sex a lot like he does food: they're both necessary to his continuing function as a human, but they're also deeply annoying distractions from the work he really wants to be doing. He'll ignore his desire until it's actively interfering with whatever he's trying to do, and only then will he spend a few precious hours going out and picking someone up (or hitting up one of the people he occasionally has one-night-stands with).

Once he meets you his desire becomes impossible to ignore. He wants you so badly it keeps him from focusing, from sleeping, and no number of nights out or meaningless hookups banish you from his mind. When he has you, you'll be on the receiving end of all that built-up need.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sex between you usually happens at night, and Viktor will fall asleep right after unless he has a very good reason not to. He'll accompany you to the bathroom, you'll wash off together, and then he'll be dragging you back to bed with both hands. He won't want either of you to get dressed, and once you're under the covers he tangles himself up in you like he's trying to get as much of his body to touch yours as possible, which is exactly what he's doing. You might talk for a while about nothing much in particular, faces close, before drifting off together.

[corvidaequeer]

There's not really a point to this. I'm not saying Arcane is bad or you shouldn't watch it or you shouldn't like Jayce or jayvik... I'm just feeling annoyed at the way they took Jayce's character in the second season for a lot of reasons & I want to rant about it.

Starting with the whole scene of Jayce & Mel talking by comatose Viktor. Jayce says "never again" to making hextech weapons & Mel promises to protect his & Victor's dream. Then, 30 seconds later, Jayce makes Caitlyn more hextech weapons anyway! His wishy-washy promise wasn't surprising, just annoying that he'd make the same mistake AGAIN (Then a third time to defend Piltover from Ambessa's attack).

-

Later, in seeing the whole story, we know that Viktor sent Jayce back to teach himself some life lesson. So why was Jayce's first reaction to kill Salo & blow a hole in Viktor's chest?? Shouldn't he have tried to reach Viktor in a less murdery way first? Try to reason with him & teach him said life lesson? It just doesn't make sense.

-

After Jayce gets back to Piltover, he has this sudden resentment & distrust towards Mel. Where did that come from? Why does Jayce suddenly think Mel is an enemy?

Jayce starts accusing Mel of selecting who she protected. What would she have to gain from that? Even if Mel DID know she had powers, why would Jayce think she would willfully let the council & Viktor die? Why would he think her so cruel?

Then there's the "investments" line. Firstly, it was Alora that called Jayce an investment. Mel just said, "Indeed." Secondly, Who the fuck told him that happened anyway??

Then Jayce claims Mel was "using" them? Yes, she wanted Jayce & Viktor as allies & directed them in her favor, but thats really not "using" them. She saw a good opportunity to make some change & took it like anyone else would. The rest of the council used him for their own benefit far more than Mel did. But more importantly, Mel CARED about Jayce & Viktor. She cared about their dreams & helped them to achieve it! She was the one who supported them from the start. She was trying to get the council NOT to make hextech weapons. She wanted to protect their dream, but she's still somehow "using" Jayce & Viktor to get hextech?! Jayce is the one who keeps making hextech weapons without anyone pressuring him to do so! So what was the narrative point of having Jayce take his regrets out on Mel? What function did it serve?

That whole scene was just-

Mel: Hey, I need some emotional support from this traumatic thing that just happened to me

Jayce: Fuck you, Mel! You should have saved everyone. Also, how dare you have unconditionally supported Viktor & I & our research!!

The anger towards her just comes out of nowhere & has no evidence to back it up & it annoys me. Also, it just feels out of character, even with the more edgy way they portrayed Jayce in act 2 & 3. So, just, why?

-

Then there's "my partner died in this room." Jayce saw Viktor in the future, as himself, not the machine herald. He spoke with him & promised to fix things. So clearly, Viktor's humanity wasn't dead, so why even say that? What was the point?

-

Then there's Jayce's little speech. There are so many things with this.

Jayce, who had up to this point, chose violence, is suddenly all soft again & just NOW trying to reach Victor. Where was that in the last few days?? Would he not have done this first instead of blasting a hole in him?

"You always wanted to cure what you thought were weaknesses" No, bitch, he wanted to help people in poverty & didn't want to fucking die!! What are you even talking about!? Viktor was insecure ONE TIME about being up on stage, so why is Jayce diminishing Viktor's ENTIRE MOTIVATION to him being insecure about being disabled??

Then, in the same line of thinking, there's Jayce saying Viktor's disability & illness (his "imperfections") make him beautiful & he admires Viktor for that??! Cut the inspiration porn trope! Are we not passed that?!

Lastly, Jayce is supposed to show Viktor some life lesson of all that being left is "dreamless solitude" & "there is no prize to perfection" but Jayce doesn't even say any of that?? He just shows Viktor saying it. How is that something only Jayce can do?

Sure, I love the idea of Cosmic Destiny Partners. It's a great idea & a somewhat happy ending for these two. I get it, I do. But the whole path leading up to it & its execution was poor, confusing, & frankly ableist.

-

In general, Jayce just felt inconsistent.

Yeah, in season 1, Jayce has a track record for flip-flopping on his morals & ideals. His character arc is that of someone being easily swayed. He makes a lot of mistakes & then corrects himself by swinging in the complete opposite direction, only to make more mistakes. It's his character flaw.

Then season 2, he becomes more resolute in the promise he mentions. You think, oh, this makes sense. He finally grew a backbone & is standing his ground. Apparently, choosing violence as his footing, but still. He keeps this aggressive demeanor up for the rest of season 2. But then suddenly, right at the last second, he turns around & says the softest & sappiest shit in the whole show?? The fluffy confession of adoration & partnership just comes out of nowhere! If you're taking Jayce in an aggressive direction, then do so. Don't come in swinging with this totally different person.

Overall, it just feels like Jayce is there for shock value & relationship drama instead of being an actual character with solid motivations & and a steady narrative.

[bluemorningsoup]

Arcane and JayVik have me fucking apoplectic. (Arcane S2 spoilers below cut.)

At first I was like: oh, so they’re going to parallel Vi + Jinx somewhat, Science Bros instead of Violence Sis, brothers by choice rather than blood. But then there was what I call the Infidelity Sequence, in which Jayce’s love scene with Mel was juxtaposed against a dying Viktor in the most bizarre manner, like Jayce was cheating on Viktor—an absolute fucking choice—and other instances of Mel superimposed against Viktor.

So I thought: SURELY it can’t be a “bros before hoes” storyline in the year of Our Lord Faker 2024??? But then they gave us Sky “Fridged Woman” Young and Jayce said Viktor was like a brother to him, and I was like, WOW, they’re really giving us this storyline in this day and age; this should be illegal.

Then S2 Jayce started going on about how he realised his place was in the lab with Viktor. Which was like. Okay. I’m a scientist. Modern science is, in reality, a very lonely endeavour a lot of the time, even as it demands nearly all of your life. I, too, would kill to have someone who would do experiments alongside me, who would share every project and publication authorship with me. Don’t get me wrong: there are real-life scientists who do it together, but more often than not they can afford to do so because they’re fucking married to each other. So. I get it, but it did feel like Jayce was basically declaring he wanted Viktor as a life partner.

And then Act 3 Jayce and the animation doubled down on it. The shadows in the campfire morphing from Mel into Viktor. Jayce telling Mel that for some time, he had been confused about many things. He had finally decided on what he wanted and apparently it’s to get his “(lab???) partner” back. Man was consumed by it—had discarded all other ambitions and dreams and desires for this singular motivation, even as he blasted a hole in Viktor’s chest and declared his partner “died in this room”, driven by a logic the viewers weren’t initially privy to. Oh yeah, and there’s also the oddly erotic fight scene with an avatar of Viktor.

And then then the narrative tripled, quadrupled, fucking Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicles-Neon Genesis Evangelion-Puella Magi Madoka Magica-ed on it. Who had been reading CLAMP in the writers’ room? Come the fuck out; I just want to talk. No, that’s not a shotgun in my hand; don’t worry about it. Transcendant Viktor choosing to stay by Jayce’s body after the end of everything. The storyboard placing the shot of Jayce kneeling face to face with his own corpse with Viktor’s voice line: “…fields of dreamless solitude.” Jayce deciding upon the singular defining desire of his life as wanting his partner back and promising to never let Viktor be alone. Jayce fulfilling that promise. Jayce drawing Viktor in even as his own body shook and trembled. Viktor’s gentle hand on Jayce’s arm. The forehead touch.

You sit there and watch as above ambitions, above desires, above suffering, above every other thing this universe has to offer—across all possibilities, across all timelines, two men choose one another.

And then the head writer of Arcane spoke about how they’re “just friends” and how “important” it is to portray platonic male relationship. My brother in Summoner’s Rift, as if any other emotional portrayal of male relationship in media is NOT about platonic male bonding. It’s fucking 2024, Faker won his 5th Worlds, and Jayce and Viktor are brothers who chose one another out of love, contrasting against Vi and Jinx who had to let go of one another out of love. BROS BEFORE HOES.

So I guess all I have to say is: Arcane JayVik are fucking awesome and they’ll leave you breathless like an ambiguous male-male relationship from a 2000 anime, but after all’s said and done, they’re from motherfucking League of motherfucking Legends.

[knowbodytoldmethat]

Play You Like a Violin

Warnings: Bad writing, smut. Minors DNI

Request from anonymous: viktor hargreeves smut with an afab reader??? it can be gn or fem reader idc, but can viktor wear one of these dildos made for people to fuck?

Paring: Viktor Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Viktor's arms were around your waist the moment you shut the door to your shared apartment. He kissed the back of your neck and nipped at the lobe of your ear as something hard pressed against your ass,

"Are you happy to see me?" You asked with a laugh as he spun you around to place a heated kiss on your lips with the black dildo that had been strapped around his waist pressing into your stomach,

"Really happy to see you," He murmured while pressing his lips to your cheek to trail down to your neck.

Viktor's teeth grazed your skin before tugging at the collar of your jacket and shirt to reveal the junction of your neck and shoulder. He suctioned on with his mouth and started to leave a hickey as you shuddered with a moan. His hands were roaming your body, shoving under your shirt and wrapping around your waist to give your ass a squeeze.

He pulled away at the gasp you let out, grinning at the way you arched your back to press into his hand. Viktor then tugged at your shirt and jacket, throwing them to the floor so his hands could cup your chest through your bra.

You began tugging at the buttons on his shirt, pushing them through their holes to expose the expanse of his pale skin.

His hands were hesitating at the clasp of your bra and Viktor pulled back far enough to silently ask if it was alright for him to take it off. You leaned down toward him, brushing your noses together as you nodded before lacing your fingers through his short hair as his deft fingers pulled the offending garment off of your body.

Viktor began placing soft kisses on your chest, occasionally nipping at the skin while gently running his thumbs across your nipples. The gentle stimulation was wonderful and did the job of getting you wet at your core, but it left you wanting more!

You spread your legs which allowed him to press the dildo against your clothed center. You ground down on the silicone piece with a whimper,

"Viktor!" He began walking backward with his arms around your waist.

The two of you were now in front of the couch, your mouths were pressing against each other in a heated passion as Viktor's hands tugged at your pants. When the article of clothing was shoved down and hanging around one of your ankles, Viktor gently pushed you down.

He positioned himself between your legs and mouthed at your underwear, grinning at the wetness on his tongue before removing them. The dildo was pressed against the seam of your core as Viktor hovered over you, his lips merely centimeters from yours as he asked while gently caressing your face,

"Are you ready?"

You nodded, "Please, Viktor? Please, I need you inside of me!"

"Okay," He kissed you gently while reaching down to position the dildo's engorged head at your entrance and slowly pushed inside.

Your back arched with a gasp as you stretched around it, as it filled you to the brim. Viktor gave you a moment to adjust before moving his hips and began thrusting inside of you. It started out gentle, then Viktor began to pick up the pace.

You could feel him deep inside you, hitting that sweet spot that made your vision swim with pleasure.

Viktor's lips had found your neck as one of his hands gripped one of your breasts before moving down your body. He found your clit and began rubbing the hardened nub, smiling at the gasps that were falling from your mouth as your hands gripped his shoulders. Viktor felt your legs lock behind his back as your hips began canting upward to meet his thrusts,

"Viktor! Viktor I-I'm-" You cut off with a shudder and a moan as your nails dug into his shoulders. Viktor continued fucking you through the waves of your orgasm until you were whimpering from oversensitiviety.

He pulled out and quickly unstrapped himself from the dildo and set it on the floor to be picked up later. Viktor then laid down beside your on the couch, your legs tangling together as your head rested on his chest,

"Told you I was happy to see you," He murmured while pressing soft kisses to your hair as you whispered,

"Never said you weren't," And began kissing his chest as your hand began trailing down his body to rest against his waist, "May I return the favor?"

[deifiliaa]

I'm going down a Cho rabbit hole rn!! Do you have any Cho fic recs?? I'd love to read more Cho

hello anon, welcome to the rabbit hole, just wanted to let you know that this is one of those asks i dream about getting because cho chang? oft-overlooked-and-underappreciated-in-fandom cho chang?? why yes i would LOVE to stand on this soapbox and talk endlessly about her and my favorite writings that feature her <3

i get that a lot of the pairings featured in these fics/drabbles are very not mainstream lol but please don’t let that scare you off because honestly?? these are all a mix of fun, brilliant, stunning, transcendent stories and i have spent approximately a million hours thinking about each one of these because the character building and emotional payoff and dimensional portrayal of cho is overwhelmingly just so satisfying. so capable of filling that void canon left. so chef’s kiss.

gonna do my best to pick a line from each fic/drabble that i think does a good job of capturing its ✨ essence ✨ so. here we gooo. (mature/explicit fics noted with an asterisk * ).

record scratch * by @provocative-envy — modern, best man and maid of honor au (cho x marcus flint)

“You and Cho—my best and dearest and most precious friend in the world, Cho—you know each other, don’t you?” Marietta asks, just a bit too sweetly.

There’s a beat of awkward silence, then, and Cho very responsibly avoids the heavy, frantic weight of Marcus’s gaze, which has suddenly—coolly—intently—snapped over to her.

“so it starts at the tail end of the war...” by @provocative-envy — canon divergent au (cho x marcus flint) 

“i don’t want to get away,” she tells him, wincing at the strain on her vocal chords. “this is–this is it, can’t you feel it? this is how it ends.”

good behavior by @provocative-envy — canon divergent, postwar au, also the sequel to the above drabble (cho x marcus flint)

Well, his “muggle integration counselor” needs to be able to find him.

“marcus flint knows a lot about destruction...” by @provocative-envy — high school au (cho x marcus flint)

“I’m bad at math,” he blurts out, jaw working as he folds his arms over his chest. He feels defensive. Frustration prickles a familiar dance across his scalp. “This is, like, my third time taking trig. They always—I get lost when that fucking—when the circle thing with the dotted lines shows up.”

tick tick boom by @provocative-envy — superhero au (cho x marcus flint)

Cho Chang now works for the nonprofit across the street, a legal defense fund for superheroes who aren’t lucky enough to have corporate sponsors or full-fledged PR teams.

Marcus sees her, occasionally.

heads or tails * by @provocative-envy — thief acquaintances au (cho x marcus flint)

“We aren’t jack shit, sweetheart,” she mimics obnoxiously. “Yes, I know.”

His nostrils flare. “What’s the fucking problem, then?”

flying before falling by andtheyfightcrime — canon compliant (cho x cedric diggory)

Cho sniffs, "Maybe we just think there's more to hello than sticking your tongue down someone's throat." Cedric groans at that and says, "You shatter my illusions, Chang. We could have been in Hufflepuff together."

fifty ways by andtheyfightcrime — canon compliant (cho x cedric diggory)

Being in like with Cedric is a lot like being friends with him, only with more private smiles and demure nods.

big head boy by @cocoartistwrites — university au (cho x percy weasley)

She makes him nervous, with her shiny hair and her firm, straight brows and her piercing dark eyes and the haughty way she argues with him, and how she slams everything he says, how she sounds like his sister, Ginny, sometimes, when Ginny hears him talking, how assured she is, how angry, how sometimes she argues with their tutor – their brilliant, famous tutor – once, memorably, calling him an outdated sexist pig and –

“the thing about cho chang...” by @provocative-envy — zombie survival au (cho x cormac mclaggen)

Out of everyone? Back at camp? That he could’ve gotten trapped in a fucking abandoned Bass Pro Shop with? While a horde of fucking razor-talon zombies mashed their rotting gray faces up against the tastefully organized display windows?

Cho Chang would not have been Cormac’s first choice.

the sweet spot by @provocative-envy​ — modern, celebrity au (cho x cormac mclaggen)

His smile is authentic in ways that she doubts he’s aware of, in ways that she doubts he’s even capable of understanding, and it unnerves her a little bit, having all that energy, all that intensity, all that smug, self-fulfilling excitement directed right at her, totally unfiltered.

hiding in plain sight by @mxrcusflint — high school au (cho x cormac mclaggen)

Cormac McLaggen, she thinks, has probably broken more hearts than earned A’s.

descent (or how to stop being a national hero) by watername — canon divergent au (cho x viktor krum if you squint, but also not really)

At the second task, when the competitors dive beneath the lake, he drums his fingers against the railing and wonders what kind of person inspires such loyalty.

when the lights go out by thatdarkhairedgirl — second war resistance au (cho x viktor krum)

He missed her. He’s known her for less than a year and he missed her.

flights of fancy by namelessamelie — canon divergent au (cho x draco malfoy)

“You don’t have to defend him,” he interrupted, cutting her off. “Potter’s not as wonderful as he’d have everyone believe, and you know that better than anyone.” Then, before he’d fully thought it through, he added impulsively, “One hero isn’t a replacement for another.”

caught by blood sugar love — canon divergent, postwar, rebellion au (cho x draco malfoy)

Cho blinks. "I mean... I-I sit, and I think about it. How much you've ruined everything. It's really amazing, when I tally it all up. How much you owe. Especially if your father dies."

the sporting life * by blythely — canon divergent au (cho x pansy parkinson)

Cho wins but it's probably because on the last match point Pansy is looking at Cho rather than at the ball.

seeking * by Gelsey — postwar, ministry au (cho x charlie weasley)

“Fucker,” she said, righting her clothes in quick, economical movements, though her hands were trembling. She tossed her hair.

a moment’s silence (happens grace, happens sweet) by disinclinant — second war order au (cho x charlie weasley)

“I’ve no idea who you are,” Charlie replies, amused and vaguely charmed by this explanation of how she knows him through the process of elimination.

moon walk * by @provocative-envy — modern au (cho x antonin dolohov)

She stares at him for a minute, blatantly astonished and visibly apprehensive, and then she blushes. Hard. Gnaws on her lower lip and sweeps her eyes from his face to his chest and—very, very quickly—even lower.

even the score * by themidnightguardian — olympics au (cho x ginny weasley)

It’s a tepid rivalry at best—something that’s fierce on the field and almost entirely absent off it—and they’ve only spoken a handful of words to each other since their college days, but when it comes to women’s soccer, the Chang-Weasley rivalry is the hot gossip because it’s the only gossip.

Which is why twitter loses its shit when they both make the Olympic team.

that’s what she said by @provocative-envy — hockey au (cho x ginny weasley)

“Hey, why don’t you like me?”

Cho’s face twitches oddly. Defensively. “Why don’t I—excuse me?”

playing favourites by Slumber — postwar, healer au (cho x oliver wood)

The first time Cho catches Oliver Wood wandering St Mungo's ward nowhere near his own, he at least has the grace to look embarrassed.

[eurodynesass-moved]

Champion of the Streets

A brief look at V in the fight with Razor, before Vik takes care of her in his clinic and they... celebrate. 

Female V / Viktor Vector

Minor spoilers for Beat on the Brat.

Ao3

— — — — — — — — —

There was fire in her blood. There was a raging flame threatening to burst through her and she channeled it all into her bones and her muscles as she sat down in her seat. Having just walked away from Coach Fred's offer, V was trying hard not to let her anger consume her. After all this time, pumping her up for the final fight, the big fight, to tear her down with a coward's offer—it was pathetic and humiliating. To think that he never believed she could defeat Razor to begin with, it was infuriating—

"Easy now," she heard a familiar voice say. "You'll burn a hole through his skull before you even get a chance to fight."

She turned to see the man kneel before her, something along the lines of relief washing over her. Viktor. She could not believe that he was there. He wasn't the one that had directed her to these fights, but he knew about them and encouraged her nonetheless. Now, in the final moment when it mattered, he was right there. He wasn't the coach she had been speaking with, but she was certainly more interested in what he had to say right now than anyone else.

He must have seen how she looked, all halfcocked, nervous and angry, and he did not ask her why. Instead, he gave her a few tips for comfort, as well as pointers to defeat Razor. She could have kissed him for that if it weren't for the fact that they were in the ring right then and there.

When finally standing up from her seat and kicking it off the stage behind her—and looking good doing it—she remembered Viktor's words that rang in her mind. Don't let me down now, you hear?

Well, after he had asked her so nicely, she wasn't about to say no.

The bell rang and the fight began, V staying mobile on her feat and watching the large man in front of her. She was much smaller, in terms of height and muscle. She was able to quickly dash away from his charges and stay out of the way. Occasionally she could spot Viktor from the corner of her eye, away from the ring but keeping watch.

She then focused on Razor and dodged a swipe from him, ducking to give herself a decent angle for a strong right hook, right into his abdomen. The man stumbled backward with a grunt and she smirked, kicking off towards him.

—

It was almost as though she blacked out during the fight and woke up only when she stood above Razor, on her two feet, having emerged victorious. There, in the ring, she glistened brightly under the neon lights. Her sporty crop was soaked with sweat, blood and dirt, her braided hair had partly come loose and stuck to her face in tiny curls. Her nose was definitely bleeding still and something in her mouth kept burning and leaking.

Her chest heaved in quick, rapid breaths as she looked down at her own two hands. Hand wraps now red and brown, threatening to come away, her hands were shaking violently, and yet she was as confident in herself as she could have been in a very long time.

Stepping out of the ring, she ignored the crowd and glanced at Coach Fred, placing one bloodied hand on his shoulder and giving him a nod. She was still not okay with him trying to convince her to sell herself out, but he did bring her the opportunity to get this far.

Still, she did not linger. V scanned the crowd to find that familiar pair of eyes that she had looked into just before the fight, finding one smiling Viktor staring right back at her. V turned to the side, spitting out her blood out of necessity before deciding to get anywhere close to her friend.

Once he reached her, he held out his hand and she took it in a strong clasp. They laughed and pulled each other in for a congratulatory embrace. He held her for a second longer than she expected, not that she minded, before finally pulling away to look her in the eyes.

"You actually fucking did it," he grinned a wide, boyish grin, shaking his head slightly.

"Did you ever doubt I would?" she put her hands on her hips, raising a brow.

"Not even for a second, sweetheart," he assured her.

Before her mind could linger on that word again, a different voice caught her attention. She looked behind her as someone asked to take a photo of her, something about wanting to write about the fight. She did not pay too much attention to it, only wrapped an arm around Vik's shoulders as well as she could at her height, and made a peace sign with her other hand. Viktor, to her surprise, did not fold his arms like he normally liked to do. His right arm went around her, his hand now resting on her right shoulder and keeping her close.

Once the picture was taken, she looked up at him from where she was and did not pull away. "Thank you for believing in me, Vik. I wouldn't have made it without you."

"Nah, kid, you'da made it even further without another word from me," he shook his head. "That was all you, I just made sure you remembered that you had it in you."

Before V could say more, she cleared her throat and felt more of her blood pooling in her mouth. She made a gesture with her hand so as to tell him she needed a minute, before promptly spitting more blood out.

"Fuck," she cursed, wiping her mouth with her wraps.

"Let's get you back to the clinic for a quick look-see, shall we?" he offered, keeping a respectable distance from her.

She smiled and gave him a sheepish nod. "Yeah, maybe we should."

—

Walking into the clinic somehow felt more like a breath of fresh air than it did while being outside, pollution notwithstanding. V took her usual steps, plopping herself down on the chair while Vik brought out something to help with the pain and the daze. He also brought over a couple of glasses, pouring them a little drink to mark the celebration. He did not sit in his stool this time, instead stepping in rather close so that he could help clean her up. He set down a tray with the things he might need right beside her on the chair.

"Seeing you fight out there," he began, unwrapping one of her hands. "Made me wish I'd been there for the other fights too. You really got somethin' in ya, kid, that just does not quit."

"What can I say, I have all the right people in my corner," she chuckled, but melted a little at the smile he gave her.

"Well, the smart ones'll know to keep rootin' for ya," he replied, now unwrapping her other hand. After a moment, he examined her knuckles and fingers, finding a few scrapes and bruises but nothing too serious. With one gentle stroke of a calloused thumb against the back of her hand, he nodded. "Hands seem fine. Anything hurting in there that I should know about?"

V was finding it extremely hard to look away from him at that moment. "No, just the knuckles."

"Good," he muttered, setting her hands down in her lap before tilting her chin up a little. "Now for that nasty cut on your cheek," he spoke softly. Viktor stepped away momentarily, moving about his clinic and coming back with a rag and a bowl of water. He slowly began to wipe away the dirt and blood off her face and neck, taking extra care with the area around her wound so that he could disinfect it and patch her up.

In all that time, his touch and gestures were gentle, soft. His eyes were laser-focused on every inch of her. Her mouth ran dry at the thought of all that attention he put toward helping her.

He himself wasn't entirely lost on the looks she'd been giving him. It was no secret that they cared about each other, but to what extent she cared for him, he didn't know. He had a hunch, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to be wrong or right. He said nothing about it though. She needed to clean up, he was there. That's all this was.

"Your nose," he observed. "Definitely bruised, popped a few vessels, but thankfully it's still intact."

"I'm told it's one of my best features," she joked, slightly wincing at the touch.

"Hmm," low laugh rumbled from him, tingling her insides something fierce.

She could tell he wanted to say something more, but had probably chosen against it. Shame, she thought. Maybe if he had, she could have told him some of her favorite parts of him. V then had a thought. Sitting there, in the safety of his clinic, after the night she'd had, to celebrate it by his side was the best thing she could have been doing.

There may have been more that she wanted. It was a night of achieving the impossible, after all. Maybe... just maybe...

"Alright, V. That's you all set," he told her, ready to step back as he cleared his throat. "Unless you've got anything broken or sprained that you haven't told me about," he added in jest.

An idea sparked. "Actually, I think I took a few good hits in my ribs. Can you check those?"

She could see the freeze in Viktor's stance, but he moved closer once again, giving her a quick nod. He observed her skin, motioning her to lean back a little so that he could see better under the light. "Nothing looks bruised. Does it still hurt?"

V watched him as he studied her, his fingers gently poking at each rib to see if there was anything broken or cracked underneath. He'd find nothing of the sort, but she couldn't help herself anymore. Sitting there, slightly leaning back with him hovering just over her, V decided to take a leap of faith. She looked him in the eyes as she moved her leg slightly, letting it brush slowly against his. Viktor did not look down, but he did make eye contact with her again.

There was a visual bob in his throat as he watched her carefully, seeing that she did not blink even once while doing this. V slowly straightened herself up again, and the more she did so, the closer to him she got—he was not moving an inch. His hands remained where they were, at her sides and with his fingers slightly tracing her ribs.

Viktor thought about speaking, stepping away, doing the right thing. He wondered if he was seeing it wrong, or if she really was looking him in the eyes so intently that his heart might give in. Looking her over right then, busted cheek and lip, bruised nose and body, chaffed hands—she really did remind him a lot of himself, and had a live, wild spirit within her that he could not deny he was attracted to.

So he stood, frozen and uncertain as she moved herself closer and closer to him. Little could have prepared him for what came next, not even the times he had spent imagining that very moment.

V pushed herself up, her cheeks flushed pink merely at their proximity, and kissed Viktor. She grazed her lips gently against his, as though she were inviting him to join, and that he did. She felt him return the kiss with passion, hands now pressed flat against her sides.

Swinging her leg around him, she attempted to nudge him to step between her legs, but he had a different idea. His hands grabbed her by the hips, sliding her body closer to him in the position that she had been hoping for. She pulled away from the kiss with a small gasp just to look at him.

"Huh," he breathed, a smile teasing the corners of his lips. "Who woulda thought..."

"What?" she uttered.

"That you woulda ever wanted to go for someone like me," he admitted.

Her heart broke a little inside. "There is no one like you," she moved her hand to his cheek.

"V..." he murmured, but had no time to say more when he felt her soft lips move against his once more. He sighed into the kiss, holding her and giving in to the taste of her. There was a hint of metal from her lip, something that made him chuckle.

His tongue pushed against her lip and she happily obliged, letting him in and tasting all of him. The drink he had set out for them before could still be tasted on him, something absolutely irresistible in that. V then let her hands roam across his shoulders while he held her tight. A small nudge of her legs to move him closer had his crotch digging against her, making him groan into the kiss.

V smirked at that and kept her legs wrapped around him to steady herself while she slowly ground her hips against him. She let out a soft moan, forgetting how much easier it was to feel things through loose sweatpants. She felt his grip on her tighten and his breathing quicken. He cursed against the kiss and pulled her up off the chair, making a small squeak of a gasp come out of her—a sound he'd never heard from her before.

He looked at her and grinned just as she broke into a quiet laugh, and slowly, Viktor walked them around the clinic, accidentally slamming into one of the tables along the way. He groaned, feeling the metal corner bang right into his thigh. Vik cursed at the table all the while V tried to suppress her quiet giggling. He raised a brow at her.

"You find that funny?" he asked her, right before the two of them fell into the couch. Another yelp sounded from V, and then a soft grunt and a thud at the impact. Her hair was now all over the place, her braid slowly but surely coming loose, so Vik decided to help with that. He reached over and tugged at the hair tie that kept it all together, threading his fingers into her hair to set it all free. He then carefully, slowly stroked all the strays out of her face, leaning in again to kiss her.

Gentle fingers gingerly plucked at whatever buttons still remained done on Vik's shirt, slowly pulling it free and down his arms. As he got up on his knees, she pushed herself up to join him, continuing on with his tank top. The years of heavyweight training and boxing had continued to show their mark on the curves and creases of his muscles, making V let out a low whistle.

"You been holdin' out on me, Doc?" she asked him, her voice low and sultry.

He smirked at her, "Only leavin' the best for last."

"Well it's only fair I return the favor," V purred, tugging at the hem of her tight crop.

As she began to pull it, his fingers caressed her ribs in an instant, burying themselves under the fabric to help push it up and over her. As his hands roamed up, his thumbs grazed over V's breasts rather slowly, until finally they helped take her shirt off completely.

On her knees in front of him, hair a mess around her shoulders and just above her breasts, which were ample and inviting, Vik could feel himself twitch in his arousal. "Fuck, you're so beautiful sweetheart."

"Y'know I always secretly loved it whenever you'd call me that," she confessed.

"There is so much more I could call you, if it'd make you happy," he sighed, his lips on her body in an instant.

She plopped onto her back once more, Vik above her without missing a beat. He took in her scent, the remnants of the fight still lingering and mixing with whatever sweet soap she had used that day. His lips trailed with sweet kisses down her neck and onto her chest, her breasts fitting nice and warm in his mouth. A moment later, he was grazing her nipple with his teeth, turning one of her sweet moans into a sharp gasp.

He moved on to the other breast, sending his right hand down her belly and to her abdomen, resting it there for a moment. The sheer warmth of his palm made her ache, her mind suddenly extremely aware of where that was headed. Vik looked up at her just in time to lead his fingers down, lower and lower—missing the spot and roaming down her thigh instead.

"Fuck you," she whispered, tilting her head back in frustration.

His left arm had been keeping him propped up, but he shifted in place so that his hand could reach her hair. Burying his digits within the long, soft locks, he looked her in the eyes and watched. Watched as he slowly brought his hand back up her thigh, watched as his thumb poked at her folds, then watched as it pushed against her clit, circling it nice and slow.

He then continued to stroke her through the fabric of her sweatpants, once, twice, a few times more until he could not take it anymore. He couldn't look away while she looked him in the eyes and stroked his jawline with her thumb, while she traced that long scar on his chin and moaned against his touch. Vik bent down to take her lips in his, swallowing up those delicious sounds of hers in a sweet kiss just before he could move completely away from her.

There was a small sound of protest from her, but he motioned her to follow. Once they were both on their feet, he reached for the underside of the couch, pulling on a metal bar that unlatched with a tug. Seconds later, they were looking at a rather spacious pull-out bed and they wasted no time returning to their previous position.

This time, Viktor tugged at her pants with a sharp pull, nearly pulling her along with it as he undressed her. God she was absolutely stunning, and completely naked before him. How he had managed to keep his hands to himself for this long, he did not know. Seeing her reach her hands out to him, he moved over her and smiled.

"How's my Champion of the Streets doin'?" he asked her, fingertips teasing the trail to her apex.

"She's about to lose her damn mind, Doc," V urged, one of her hands gently squeezing his forearm to go further.

Who was he to argue?

His fingers now touched her without any obstruction, feeling just how wet she was for him. He ran a single finger along her slit, just barely pushing past it before rubbing along her most sensitive spot. The strokes began nice and slow, but he soon moved with purpose as one of his fingers sunk into her. She was hot and welcoming, her back arching as those little nerves, both inside and out, were slowly and steadily stimulated with the gentlest touches. He inserted a second finger into her, feeling her, focusing on her, her little gasps, her breathing, the colorful variety of emotions displayed on her face.

Viktor had seen enough of those emotions to know just how evocative she was when it came to feeling strongly about something. Never had he imagined he'd start to see a picture painted in his mind of just how she felt about him, how he could make her feel. Her hips began to sway and thrust along with his motions the more he teased her, and he watched as she shut her eyes and began to bite her lower lip. It took everything in him not to bite it himself, just wanting to see her free in her own world when he'd make it explode.

And explode, it did.

He pressed the length of his fingers against her when he thrust them in, making sure they stroked against her clit with each and every move. Occasionally, he'd thrust them deep and let his thumb do the work on her, only to then focus on her insides once more. Eventually, her body couldn't handle it anymore. Her legs pressed tightly against one another, her lower body twitching and throbbing against his fingers. The sweet song that had become her moaning became louder and raspier as V could no longer care about what kinds of sounds she was making. Her chest heaved along with her breathing, making her gorgeous tits rise and fall just beneath him.

Vik leaned in to press a kiss between them, then one right at her throat, until she captured his mouth herself, her moans now turning into tired hums and huffs. He gave her a moment to catch her breath, to wind down a little from her high, before he could even think about continuing. She thought of it before him, it seemed, as he suddenly felt one of her hands stroking along his hard length through his pants.

He shut his eyes, sounding a quiet breathy moan in response to the pleasant surprise. V wasted no time pulling at his pants, so he helped her kick them off immediately. She had to take a second to appreciate just how turned on he was by just kissing and touching her. With gratitude in mind, she took him with her hand, slowly feeling every inch of him with every stroke, readying him for her.

She could hear his pleasure through how heavy he was breathing, through the bobbing of his throat, through the tightening of his fingers around her hair. V smiled at him and whispered, "Let me return the favor."

After a few more seconds of reveling in the pleasure, Vik finally looked at her again and shifted in place. "Maybe next time," he told her. "Tonight's about you," he muttered just above a whisper in a voice that sent a shudder through her body. Pushing off from beside her, Vik reached out for a nearby cushion to tuck it underneath her. He lifted her—without any effort, she noted in excitement—and tucked it comfortably underneath her ass.

Her legs rested around his waist while her hands laid on her own stomach. He took them in his, kissing each of them once and letting go so that he could settle in between her legs. Her hands wrapped around his shoulders and she pulled him in for a sweet kiss while she felt his hand guide his cock to her. He did not enter right away, still lubricating himself by way of teasing her entrance, nice and slow. As much as he loved what it was doing to her, he was driving himself crazy in the process.

"Vik, please," she breathed. "I want you inside me."

The throb in his cock at those words ached. He did not hesitate, pushing himself slowly past her folds and deep into her. Vik cursed out a moan, mumbling something about her being so tight around him. V must have agreed as she gasped and dug her nails into his back. After settling inside her a moment, he slowly pulled himself out to the tip, then back in, over and over until they grew accustomed to each other.

In the matter of a few minutes, Viktor had one hand at her leg to keep her steady as he thrust into her harder and faster. V began to pull his hips into her with each trust, holding onto his back and shoulder for dear life as he hit that spot of hers, over and over. Somewhere between being overcome by the pleasure, and between losing herself in his hold, she sent one of her hands to her clit to aid in that regard. It took very little when accompanied by him and his motions to send her into yet another wave of release.

Her walls tightened and throbbed around his cock, he became certain very quickly that her next release might just be the end of him. Partway through his thrusts, he wrapped his arms around her back and pushed himself up to a seated position with her on his lap.

V let out one loud moan, feeling him sitting so deep inside her. She ground her hips back and forth, feeling him push against her core over and over when she moved at just the right angle. When he began to thrust along to that rhythm, V buried her head into his shoulder. What was intended to be a kiss turned into a nibble, which turned into a bite. Vik groaned in either pleasure or pain, she couldn't quite tell, but she did leave a mark from the intensity of what she felt.

Suddenly, Vik was holding her rather tightly, keeping her steady as his cock pounded into her. He was getting closer and closer, she could feel it. His breaths were shorter, more vocal, his fingers digging into her body in his grasp.

"Viktor," she moaned, nibbling his earlobe before she called to him again. "Oh, Viktor."

He let them fall back against the bed as he thrust into her—hard—calling her name as he released his load right into her, letting ecstasy take over his senses. His hips slowed to lazy rolls while he rode the waves of his orgasm, his arms doing everything they could not to let his body slump over her.

Though, he wasn't entirely sure she couldn't simply toss him aside, after the severe round of ass-kicking she showed off in the ring. Vik laughed breathlessly against her skin, remembering what had lead them here in the first place. It seemed so surreal to be laying with V, of all people, in his little makeshift den, of all places.

When he pulled away to look at her, V was flush with sweat and had pink all across her skin, but particularly her cheeks and nose. She moved some of Viktor's hair out of the way and kissed him once again, a tired sound of contentment humming in her throat.

"Only took you the better part of a year to finally do that," she grinned, looking at his face in her hands.

"It only took you beatin' Razor's ass outta that ring tonight for me to realize how stupid I was to wait this long," Viktor shook his head. "Truth is, I... I didn't wanna ruin a thing."

"And is it?" V raised a brow. "Ruined, that is?"

"Like I said," he smiled at her. "I was real stupid."

V could feel her heart almost implode at his smile. She pushed herself up so that her lips grazed against his only slightly.

"Then I guess we gotta make up for lost time."

[berjhawn]

WINTERNIGHT - Chapter 11 - Something New

Warnings: Fighting, arguing, vampires, Lycans, ETC

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Vampire Reader ; Selene X Michael

(A/N) wow this has been a long time coming. Things have been pretty hectic and crazy this past year. Not only was i pregnant but i was also hospitalized for pancreatitis. between comstant hospital visits and morning sickness i didn’t have that much inspiration for energy to write. i’d open a word document and just stare at it which only resulted in overwhelming myself and fucking with my depression. Now that I’ve given birth to a beautiful baby boy and i’ve had some epiphanies and eye openers i feel like i can jump back into this crazy world and finally start to finish some of the open ended stories i have. wish me luck guys!!

If you want the rest of the parts they are located in my Master-list since Tumblr hates Links now. 

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

I followed Kraven to Lucian’s den and I wasn’t surprised. What did surprise me was that there was a familiar scent on the air. Was Bucky here? I follow the scent but get distracted when I spot Lucian coming my way. I feel myself frozen in place as he neared me. Some of the Lycans I didn’t know started to growl and run toward me but I just stayed still. Before they reach me, Lucian yells out stopping them in their tracks. He slowly walks towards me and I feel my heart clench. The only father figure I had was walking towards me and I couldn’t help myself.

“I wasn’t expecting you, but given your Lycan is here-” Lucian starts.

“I followed Kraven.” I say interrupting him.

“You didn’t follow your wolf?” He asks and I shake my head. “That might disappoint him.”

“He’s a big boy, he’ll get over it.” I say my brow furrowing.

“Your face doesn’t match your words.” He replies cocking an eyebrow at me.

“I-” I start walking toward him a pained expression filing my face before I instantly throw myself in his arms and bury my face in his chest. “I’m sorry,”

“I told you long ago, we wouldn’t hold a grudge against you.” He reminds me as he gently rubs circles on my back.

“Aren’t you mad that I decided to stay with the Vampires?” I ask my eyes not meeting his.

“I am rather peeved, but I am sure you have your reasons.”

“I couldn’t leave her there alone. I owed it to her to stay.”

“Ah yes, her name is Selene, right?” He asks and I nod. “Seems she’s someone special indeed.”

“Viktor’s awake, I have no place there now.” I say making him tense slightly his hands gripping tightly to me. “And I feel I am unwelcome here as well.”

“You are always welcome here child.” He says as he lifts my chin to look up at him. “Now I don’t mean to be rude but like you said, Kraven is here.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“I would have settled for nothing less; as I expect you wouldn’t have taken no for an answer.” He says and I nod. “Then shall we?” He asks before he gently pats my shoulder and walks past me. As his wolves pass me they let out low growls of warning that I gladly return as I bare my teeth. I was on their turf, Lucian’s blessing or not; I was an unwanted guest. I catch another whiff of Bucky’s scent and my heart pulls towards him. I shake my head as I pull myself in the other direction and follow Lucian.

“I thought we had a deal.” Kraven says and I grit my teeth as I stand silently behind one of the wolves and listen in to his and Lucian’s conversation.

“Patience… Kraven.” Lucian replies distaste filling his voice. “These are matters to be discussed in private.” Kraven nods and Lucian adds, “Please, escort our guest’s downstairs.” I hear the cocking of a shotgun only seconds before the vampires walk past me and the rest of the Lycans leave with them leaving only myself, Lucian, and Kraven. When he spots me, his eyes narrow angrily as he says, “What are you doing here?”

“She is not your concern.” Lucian warns.

“I thought this was to be private.” Kraven retorts.

“Would you like to try to make her leave?” Lucian asks his eyes narrowing at Kraven who thinks for a moment before shaking his head. “Very well, the council has been destroyed. Soon, you will have it all.” Lucian says and I narrow my eyes at him in anger. “Both great covens, and an iron-clad peace treaty with the Lycans.” So, this was what Kraven wanted, everything. I grind my teeth as I know deep down what Lucian offered would never be enough to Kraven. He would always want more.  “Who I trust will not be forgotten when the spoils are tabulated.”

“I’m sure she’s told you, but how do you expect me to assume control now that Viktor’s been awakened? There’s no defeating him, he grows stronger as we speak.”

“And that is precisely why I need Michael.” Lucian says as he walks past Kraven to a table behind him. “If Viktor were so easy to dispatch, you’d have done it yourself, centuries ago.” Before Kraven has the chance to argue gunshots are heard in the distance and my heart drops.

“It’s Selene,” I say as I look at Lucian my eyes pleading with him in a silent protest.

Suddenly a glass window shatters behind Kraven’s head and a bell is sounded making me reach into my coat to pull out my guns. “It’s Viktor,” Kraven adds and I roll my eyes.

“Yes, and if you had done your job he’d still be in hibernation.” Lucian says before he moves to look through a hole in the wall. I narrow my eyes but follow his gaze to see Michael chained to a surgical table. Then seconds later I see a familiar metal arm and my heart jumps in my chest. “Where the hell is Raze?” Lucian asks before moving over to a table to grab some weapons.

“Is there another way out?” Kraven asks panic filling his voice.

“I guess it never occurred to you that you might actually have to bleed to pull off this little coup.” Lucian loads his gun with new UV bullets and as he moves toward the door adds, “Don’t even think about leaving.” I turn back just in time to see Kraven pull a gun out from behind his back. My body moves on its own as I rush forward right as Kraven pulls the trigger shooting me in the chest and stomach with the new silver nitrate rounds.  I let out a wince of pain as I look down to see the silver pouring out of the bullet holes.

I hear Lucian yell something out but my mind doesn’t register until I look up to see his rage filled eyes looking down at me. It surprisingly hurt. It wasn’t the first time I had been shot before, but it was the first time I stepped in front a bullet to save someone. “(Name), look at me.” Lucian says and I growl at him as I say, “That’s not my name anymore.”

“Now’s not the time to argue.” He argues and I chuckle slightly as I wince at the pain. “You need to feed.”

“Aha, do you see a blood bank anywhere?” I ask trying to lighten the mood. I look around to notice that Kraven had made his escape and my blood starts to boil. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Get in line (Name),” Lucian adds as a familiar scent fills the room. I follow it to see a rage filled Bucky walking over to us.

“What happened to her?” Bucky asks his eyes filled with fire as he kneels next to us.

“Kraven shot me, it’s no big deal, silver won’t hurt me.” I say making him grit his teeth.

“No but the bullet’s will.” Bucky adds and I narrow my eyes at him.

“I’m not a child James.”

“I know,” Bucky adds reaching out to gently move a strand of hair from my face. “What does she need?” He asks Lucian his eyes never leaving mine.

“She needs to feed.”

“Can she drink my blood?”

“What? NO!” I cry out fear filling my voice. “If I bite you, you will die.”

“I’m not saying to bite me, I can cut myself just enough to give you what you need.”

“NO!” I say as I force myself into a sitting position.

“Why not?” Bucky asks anger filling his voice.

“I’ve never drank from someone before.” I say my eyes looking away from him. “Given my ability, I don’t think I could stop once I started. I would drink you dry. Plus, your blood isn’t exactly normal anymore.”

“Will Lycan blood hurt her?”

“No,” Lucian says causing my attention to snap to him in confusion.

“What? Of course, it will, it could kill me.” I add through the confusion.

“It will not,” Lucian says a memory crossing his eyes. “You’ve tasted it before, long ago.”

“You… you fed me Lycan blood?”

“No, your mother did.” Lucian adds, and my eyes fall to the floor. Why would she do that? “Times were tough and if she had gone after human blood the coven would have taken her.”

“But they did take her.” I add, and he nods.

“Your mother could only hold the thirst off for so long.” Lucian adds, and I nod.

“So, she can drink my blood?” Bucky asks and Lucian nods.

“Whatever you two are going to do, you need to do it now.” Lucian says as he hands me off to Bucky and walking to the door turns back to Bucky and says, “I leave her in your hands Barnes. Do not make me regret it.”

“I won’t.” Is all that is said as Lucian runs off down the hall.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” I say as I slowly look back at Bucky.

“You won’t.” He says as he leans into me and grips tightly to my back. “You got it?”

“I’m sorry,” I say as I sink my teeth into his collar making him clench tightly to me as he winces in pain. My mouth is suddenly filled with his sweet taste causing some darker part of myself to take over as I dig my teeth in deeper drawing out more blood. As I drink my mind fills with his memories. From the moment, he is born, to just seconds before I bit him. He had been through so much. His life instantly reminds me of my own and tears fill my eyes. I feel him tap my shoulder and I clench my fists tightly as I force myself to pull away from him.

I hear footsteps and I turn right as a gunshot goes off near us making my heart sink. “Lucian!” I yell out pushing myself to my feet and racing out the door only to see Lucian fall to the ground the silver nitrate filling his body. I look for the gunman but see no one. Rage fills my body as I walk back into the room where Bucky sat trying to regain his strength and I grab my guns. Bucky instantly grabs my wrist holding me back.

“Let me go, I have to avenge him.” I say anger filling my body.

“You’re not an avenger (Name),” He says, and I instantly jerk my wrist out of his grasp as I yell, “DON’T CALL ME THAT!”

“It’s your name! You have to own it!”

“I have no right too.” I say tears threatening to fall again. “I don’t know what will happen to you now that I’ve bitten you, but you need to stay near Michael. If possible, you must get him out of here. If I know Viktor like I do he will not stop until yours and Michael’s heads are on a platter.” He gulps down a breath of air as he pushes himself to his feet and walks over to me. “Please stay alive James,” I add as I reach up and pulling the back of his neck down place a kiss on his lips.

Then without a chance for him to argue I race off toward the gunfire. If I got to Selene, I could be able to get her on my side. I just had to get to her. I take a deep breath as I try to find her scent. I hear Raze’s angry howl and I knew he was finding his own sense of revenge for Lucian. I close my eyes and tilt my head as I search her out. It felt like my mind was moving everywhere until I found her.

I smile as I instantly run off towards her location. It takes me no time at all to make it to her. When I reach her, she swings towards me about to fire her weapon but stops at the sight of me. “What are you doing here?” She asks her eyes piercing mine.

“I followed Kraven,” I answer honestly making her nod. “Selene, you know you cannot kill Michael.” I say making her narrow her eyes at me.

“I do not know that; I only know that Viktor wants him dead.”

“All the more reason to keep him alive. I know where he is, if I take you to him, you must promise me you will not hurt him; him or James.”

“Your Lycan is here?!” She asks anger filling her voice as her eyes narrow at me.

“He is,” I reply before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I will not let anyone harm him.”

“If Viktor sees him, he will kill him.” Selene states.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” I reply my eyes turning a solid white in anger. “Promise me Selene; I would hate to have to hurt you.”

“Just take me to him first. Then I will decide what to do.” Selene says, and I sense the concern in her voice. I say nothing but nod in agreement and lead her toward them. Before reaching them, Selene spots a Lycan and goes to shoot it but I stop her. Shaking my head at her the Lycan runs past us towards the fray not even glancing back towards us. She eyes me curiously before stepping into the room that held Michael and Bucky. Bucky instantly frees Michael as Selene rushes over to him and says, “I have to get you out of here. Viktor’s coming, and he won’t stop until every Lycan is dead.”

“They’ll kill you too, just for helping me.” Michael adds voicing the severity of our crimes.

“I know,” Selene adds, and I sense her emotions before they even show on her face.

“I know what started the war,” Michael starts, and I feel myself being pulled away by Bucky whose temperature rose about ten degrees.

“Are you alright?” I ask as his grip tightens on my arm.

“It hurts.” Bucky says, and my eyes widen. He was turning.

“I have to get you out of here.” I add worry filling my body.

“We can’t leave them.” Bucky interjects causing me to roll my eyes.

“We won’t, but you’re my main concern right now. We don’t know if you’re dying or if you’re going to become something entirely different, something new.”

“We have to go.” Selene insists and I grip tightly to Bucky’s hand as I turn toward her and say, “You have to go without us.”

“I’m not leaving you here.” Selene says worry filling her voice.

“I can’t leave him, and he won’t make it anywhere safe in time. Go, I’ll be fine here.” I implore giving her a reluctant smile.

“Find me when you’re out.” She concedes a concerned look on her face.

“I will.” I reply as she reluctantly turns and leaves. When she and Michael are gone, I turn back to Bucky right as he falls to his knees and digs his hands into the dirt as his ribs break and reset themselves. I wince in sympathy as I reach out to hold his head to my chest. He tries to push me away, but I hold tight.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He cries out in a mixture of pain and anger.

“You won’t, I’m here for you James. I’m not leaving you behind.” I say as I grip tighter to him.

Bucky’s body starts to morph in my hands turning him into a new species entirely. He grew in height as well as size. His hair was now longer reaching down to his middle in a cascade of deep chocolate. However, his metal arm remained the same shimmery metal. If you had lost a limb before you were turned that limb never grew back. I marveled at how he looked super human. His eyes look up into mine and I feel my heart start to race at the familiar pale white. “How bad is it?” He asks through ragged breaths and I stare at him in awe.

“You look beautiful.” I say honestly making him chuckle.

“Not something you wanna tell a guy.” Bucky adds as he stands up to his full seven-foot hybrid height. I am about to say something when the sound of a gunshot pulls my attention away from him and toward the direction Selene and Michael had gone. Without thinking I rush after the sound just in time to see Lucian lying inches away from Selene and Michael, who had been shot with a silver nitrate bullet. I rush to Lucian’s side as I yell out, “Uncle!”

“She needs to bite him.” Lucian says his eyes never looking away from Selene and Michael until Bucky walks in behind me in all his hybrid glory. “You bit him.”

“I didn’t want too, but I was given little choice.” I say not looking away from my uncle. He smiles halfheartedly as he reaches up to gently cup my cheek.

“Your mother would have been proud of you.” He says, and I bite my lip as I try not to cry.

“Take my blood Uncle, it can help you.” I say as I pull my wrist up to my lips to bite it only to have him grab it and pull it away from my mouth.

“No (Name), I’ve lived without Sonja for long enough. I wish to be with my love.”

“But what about me? What do I do?” I ask trying my hardest not to cry.

“You have your Lycan,” Lucian says looking past me to where Bucky stood looking down at us. “Protect her with your life.”

“I will,” Bucky replies, and I bury my face into my uncle’s chest.

“Don’t leave me, please.” I beg gripping tightly to him.

“Don’t cry little one,” Is all he says before I feel the life slip from his body causing the tears to pour from my eyes. I stay there until I hear a loud grunt and look up to see Viktor grab Selene and ripping her away from Michael severing her bite. Bucky instantly moves to stand protectively in front of both Selene and I as Viktor picks Michael up and tosses him through the cement wall into the next room. He then turns his attention back to Bucky as a rage filled expression fills his eyes. Sensing his motives, I gently give Lucian’s hand one last grip before I stand up and place myself between Bucky and Viktor.

“What have you done?!” Viktor yells out accusingly at me and I bare my teeth at him. “You dare bare your half breed fangs at me?”

“I will not let you hurt anyone else I care about.” I warn my eyes turning pale white.

“You are not strong enough to kill me.” Viktor warns making me clench my fists.

“I don’t have to be strong enough to kill you,” I say as Michael appears behind him fully morphed into his own version of the hybrid. “I just have to be strong enough to protect those I care about.” Then without a second thought Michael grabs Viktor and tosses him into the other room before he follows him. I instantly rush over to Selene and reaching out quickly help her to her feet.

“He killed them,” Selene says pain filling her eyes. “Viktor killed them all.”

“I am sorry; but there is nothing we can do for the dead. The living however,” I pause as Bucky rushes into the room where Michael and Viktor had gone. “The living, need our help.”

Will continue- 

Tags are Open

@unknownuserhasjoined

[rosyredlipstick]

You mentioned you loved YOI and read some good fanfic for it!! Would you mind recommending me some, maybe..?? :')

This took longer then I meant but im real serious bout my yoi fics. gets kinda long so under the cut! 

Okay currently the fics im obsessed with - 

Fics I rec:

The princess diaries au that has me SCREAMING WITH EVERY UPDATE OMG it has such an amazing aesthetic and plot and i ADORE all the characters and this victor???? Wow. amazing.

Seek those who fan your flames by @ebenroot

summary :

Yuuri gets hand-delivered a black-print T-shirt by one of his bodyguards on Friday. There’s a small sticky note attached to the collar in Victor’s handwriting that reads: ‘Our new band shirt! Logo is still a work in progress. Name too. But it’s a start! Let me know what you think after school. - Victor’

There’s a heart next to his name that is hastily scribbled out. Then another heart next to that one, like Victor decided to put it in anyways.

Yuuri thinks he’s in love.

–

in which Yuuri is a teenager that’s actually a prince, and Victor is a teenager with a band that just wants to listen to rock music with him

i love yurio here’s a fic with him prominently i love it

along with the popular fandom troupes of pining viktor and secretly caring yurio, there’s the troupe of yuuri being a beautiful idiot without realizing it i love them all

in wine we trust  by @fireblazie

summary:

Yuri peers into the expanse of the apartment and finds a single, flickering light in the kitchen. He stealthily tiptoes across the floor with the baseball bat clutched tightly in his fists, only to find that, what the hell, this bastard is actually fucking raiding his fridge.

“That’s my pirozhki, asshat!” he snarls, ready to swing his bat when the intruder turns around.

Shit, Yuri thinks. It’s Beautiful International Student Yuuri Katsuki.

IM A BITCH FOR OFFICE AUS. LIKE. OH MY GOD.

I seriously adore everyone in this fic. Omg. ive read it so many times at this point it’s unbelievable. Wow.

the season of the spirits by counterheist / @kixboxer

summary:

Yuuri wakes up to one hell of a headache, a tie he doesn’t recognize knotted around his wrist, and two fistfuls of banknotes cradled to his chest.

~

An AU about cubicles, and the people who work in them.

THIS IS CURRENTLY ONE OF MY FAVORITE FICS EVER IT’S A STAR TREK AU MY GOOOOOOD I LOVE IT!!!!

everything here is amazing omg captain viktor and first officer yuuri with heavy heavy pining omggggggg yaaaas

To Boldly Go by @xyloophones

summary:

“Yuuri!” Viktor calls. “I’ve come to rescue you!”

Yuuri stares at him blankly. He gestures to the various unconscious space pirates with his recently discharged phaser.

“Oh, Captain,” he deadpans. “Save me.”

Or:

A year in the life of badass science officer Yuuri Katsuki, Captain Viktor “Team Mom” Nikiforov, and simultaneously the best crew and worst crew in Starfleet history.

ok so this next fic isnt finished BUT it’s the funniest fic i’ve ever read in this fandom. omfg. i was laughing so hard at every chapter pls read. it’s a speed dating au AND IT’S HILARIOUS also there’s phichit\seung-gil in this which i didn’t even know was a thing\didn’t ship UNTIL THIS FIC IT’S JUST A SIDE PAIRING BUT I LOOOOVE IT AND BOTH OF THEM

Speed Dating (Let’s Take it Slow) by @apalettefullofyou

summary:

“Why like this?” Yuuri asks, breaking the silence.

Phichit grins. “Because desperate times call for desperate measures. And if you haven’t noticed, we’re desperate.“

Tired of watching Georgi mull over his recent breakup, Viktor and the gang take him speed dating, hoping one of the twenty-something strangers could help fill the hole in his heart.

Now if only he could stop crying.

u like royal au?????? am i bout to blow your MIND

this is THE royal fic. so so so good. gods. the characterization. the pining. the povs. everyone is written so well OH MY GOD ITS SO GOOD.

The Rules for Lovers by  @adreamingsongbird

Prince Yuuri Katsuki has a duty to his country, above all else (his desires, his dreams, and his happiness included), and he knows this alliance will help to ensure the safety of his people. That’s the only reason he accepts Prince Nikiforov’s hand in marriage. The pleasant surprise, of course, is the part where they fall in love along the way. The unpleasant one, well…

That’s a long story.

I went through a superheroes phase and this fandom is the best enabler. Pls check out this superhero series, like, even if you’re not that big of a fan. It’s so wonderful throughout and intriguing and god, the plot sucks you in so well. The characters and their powers are handled so well and tbh im so invested

The Yuuri!!! On fire series by @hinatella

Summary:

A detailed exposé of what working with an ex-villain is like, as told by a very distraught Yuuri Katsuki. (P.S.: it isn’t the fact that he’s an ex-villain that Yuuri is close to losing his mind.)

so! cute! domestic life after yuuri and viktor move back to russia!! so cute!!! omg!!!!

Safety Hazards in St. Petersburg by @lucycamui

summary:

In which Yuuri moves in with Victor in St. Petersburg and Victor discovers just how distracting living with him can be.

Alternatively titled, How Many Ways Can Victor Hurt Himself? or Idiots in Love

Authors I advise to immediately read everything they produce because fUCK

Ebenroot - they wrote the princess diaries fic above but jfc. Jfc. there’s so much more. They’re doing a fairy tale au that i scream into a pillow every time it updated. Everything they write is just so purely GOOD dear GODS

Xylophones i recced their star trek series above BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE! They did a halloween week of fics that im still obsessed with (GO READ MOONSTRUCK PLEASEEEE!!!) so there’s a ton more to check out!!!

Thehandsingsweapon / @handsingsweapon *opens coat* u want some wonderfully developed characters? Some of that good character development shit?? The best parents i’ve ever read for sir victor nikiforov?????? Literally please read these fics for the pure existence of victor’s wonderful lesbian mothers. God. its all i want in life and i have to live vicariously through these fics.

Spookyfoot / @spookyfoot if for some odd reason you dont have the time/will to read 30 wonderful yoi fics, for the love of god please read their spy/mistaken identity fic. God please. It’s been months since i got the notification email for it and i STILL LAUGH FROM THE THOUGHT OF IT. so good. im in love. 

okay okay, it’s sunday night and im using this to stall doing my homework but i should go now. let me know if you want anymore!! lol it might take awhile for me to finally answer the ask but ill get to it!!! 

[deripmaver]

Victuuri at the Battle of Hogwarts, part one (Rating: M)

(Cross posted as “Flashing Lights” on ao3)

It happened in a split second.

If Yuuri had blinked, he would have missed the bright green spell reverberating off the stone walls of the hallway, the loud crack as it hit the supports, the low rumble of crumbling stone as the world collapsed all around them.

In an instant, his hand went from warm, clasping at Viktor’s as they ran with wands at the ready, to an unbearable empty cold as Viktor jolted back to avoid the cracked rock falling from the ceiling. There was a low roar as the castle cried out in pain, Phichit grabbing him and pulling him away from the avalanche, and the last glimpses Yuuri caught before they were separated were Viktor’s bright blue eyes screwed up in determination and a flash of light-

The hallway filled with rubble, and everything was deadly silent. 

“Viktor,” Yuuri screamed, pulling out of Phichit’s grip to attempt to scale the blocked-up hallway, “Viktor.”

A cackle of laughter came from the path beyond the rocks, and Yuuri wailed as he beat his fist against them.

“Yuuri,” Phichit shouted, arms wrapping fully around his midsection, “We need to get out of here, we need to keep going-”

“I can’t leave him,” Yuuri sobbed, “I can’t, they were so close behind us...”

A bright flash of red light exploded somewhere above them, and Phichit swore loudly. He gripped Yuuri and shook him, staring right into his watery brown eyes.

“Yuuri,” he hissed, “Please, look at me. There’s nothing we can do right now except get out of here. Get somewhere safe.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri moaned in anguish.

“Viktor wouldn’t want us to die here!” Phichit cried, grabbing Yuuri and dragging him away as more spells barely missed them. Hexes, curses, the dreaded Avada Kedavra... 

Yuuri followed, numbly, eyes trained on the fallen rocks separating him from his beloved. They ran, and ran, and ran from the Death Eaters chasing them, through winding passageways that seemed to open up in front of them, the school aiding their escape. 

They spilled out into an empty corridor, windows blasted open in the carnage, and the cool air wrapped around them as they paused to catch their breath. 

The lovely, long-haired Durmstrang quidditch captain, poised to move on to the major leagues once he graduated, here for the Tri-Wizard tournament. Yuuri hadn’t... Wizard culture was still so new to him, so when he’d gotten his Hogwarts acceptance letter, he’d drunk in every new detail, every sport his little muggle-born world didn’t have. There was Viktor, barely fourteen and still plastered all over posters, smiling this sweet, heart-shaped smile and waving as if only to Yuuri.

Falling in love with him had been easy. Meeting him had been a dream. Having Viktor fall for him, just the same, well - 

That had been a miracle.

It was so, so cold. Yuuri let out a sob and curled into himself, kneeling in agony on the stone floor. His breath constricted, his hands began to shake.

“Won’t you dance with me, Yuuri Katsuki?”

Yuuri squeaked. “What, me?”

Viktor laughed, low and lovely. “No, the man standing beside you.”

It took Yuuri a moment to swallow his disappointment, then a moment more to realize that there wasn’t anyone standing beside him. He flushed, tips of his ears going as red as Viktor’s robes. 

They twirled to a waltz, chubby fourteen year old Yuuri pressed against the darling of Durmstrang, three years his senior. Viktor’s long hair tickled Yuuri’s fingers, pressed firmly into Viktor’s back. 

Yuuri longed to feel Viktor’s hair now, but he wasn’t there. He was likely dead, if not buried under a pile of rubble, finished off by the Death Eaters that had been chasing them. He was so strong, but was he strong enough to fight so many at once?

A wave of nausea made Yuuri hunch over, nose nearly pressed into the floor.

“Oh, shit, Yuuri... Oh god, we need to get out of here.”

The music ended in a final trill, and Viktor’s hand squeezed the small of his back, their bodies pressed so much closer than they’d been at the beginning. A curtain of silver hair tickled the side of Yuuri’s face, so all he could see were those brilliant blue eyes.

He could hear everyone’s whispers, the smirking at the precocious, scheming mudblood out to sully Viktor’s pure family line, but he met Viktor’s gaze steadily. His heart thudded in his chest, his palms shook, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Viktor. 

I’m good enough for you, he thought. And Yuuri cupped Viktor’s cheek, stood on his tip-toes, and kissed him.

Not good enough to save you, Yuuri thought, energy draining down into the floor. His vision of Viktor’s lips was how soft they were, how warm and pliant they became as they kissed. Now, they’d be cold and stiff, his body icy and his heartbeat gone-

“Ohhh, shit. Okay, okay, we can - we can get out of this. Yuuri, I need you to help me. They’ve blocked us in, but we can get out of here, I t-think, I just need-”

They wrote letters every day once the summer began, then continuously for the three ensuing years. Viktor asked about muggle sports, like ice skating - Yuuri swore he’d take him one day. Viktor told him how he’d bewitch his boots to slide on ice like skates, how when he was a child, he’d twirl and spin across the frozen lakes in his homeland of Russia. 

He charmed each letter, so that if Yuuri kissed it, he could feel Viktor’s lips through the paper. It was perfect, it was a dream - 

It all came to an end when Yuuri was seventeen and Viktor was twenty, and every single muggleborn, Yuuri included, needed to go into hiding. He didn’t know if he’d ever see Viktor again.

And now he never would.

“Oh my god, Yuuri, please help me, please don’t give up, you know my Patronus isn’t corporeal yet, fuck, expecto patronum-”

“I saw you practicing against the boggart with Professor Cialdini,” Viktor murmured. Yuuri froze and almost stumbled mid-step in their waltz, all those years ago. “You kept trying, again and again. I was so intrigued, so impressed with your determination. Not many people can face their fear head on like you did.”

“Everyone was laughing at me,” Yuuri whispered, flushing, “Who... Who cries in the middle of class? Because of a stupid boggart? No one else did.”

Viktor chuckled. “Well, after you show them how hard you worked, they won’t be laughing anymore.”

Someone barreled into him, and Yuuri snapped out of his thoughts to a terrified Phichit, eyes filled with tears, burying his face in Yuuri’s robes. A thick fog filled the corridor, and Yuuri looked around with a dawning horror. 

Dementors, at least a dozen, floating through the blown-out windows and gaping holes in the wall. Drawn in by his despair, his hopelessness, and now they were going to take Phichit from him too. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri sobbed, because his hands were shaking too hard for him to concentrate, “I’m sorry, Phichit, I - Expecto Patronum!”

A thin silver mist came from the end of his want, a light against the fog for just a moment. It was too weak, though, and it dissipated into nothingness. 

They were getting closer. 

Yuuri gripped Phichit, grit his teeth, and wiped his eyes furiously. This was his fault, entirely his fault, he’d been so heartbroken and now he was going to suffer a fate worse than death. Worse, he was letting Phichit down, too, Phichit, barely fifteen years old, his only friend, and it was all because Viktor was-

“I’m not dead.” The tears in Viktor’s eyes betrayed the smile on his lips, and Yuuri could tell by the twitch of his fingers how he ached to touch, to feel Yuuri’s skin. Half of the other students in the Room of Requirements were staring at them, the other half crowding around other reunited couples, or holding grieving friends and lovers.

Yuuri let out a shaky laugh. “I’m not dead either,” Yuuri breathed. Then, because he’d just registered something other than Viktor’s eyes, he gaped in horror. “You cut your hair!” 

Viktor laughed, a beautiful sound that dissolved into a sob. “Long hair that’s been on every magazine cover since I was eleven doesn’t go so well with government resistance.”

“Well,” Yuuri whispered, every muscle in his body aching to pull Viktor to him and kiss him senseless, “It goes pretty well with living in the woods, on the run for months.”

“It suits you,” Viktor said. “The hair, I mean.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri said, gripping the lapel of Viktor’s robes. “Kiss me.”

And he did. Oh, how he did. Yuuri’s body was on fire, his heart pounding and aching with desire for more. 

He barely even registered the cheers coming up from around him. It didn’t matter that he was dirty and sweaty from being on the run, Viktor clung to him like it would cause him physical pain to let go. 

Eventually, they needed to separate, if only to breathe. Their faces were so close that their breath mingled, that a sea of blue was the only thing Yuuri saw. He shifted uncomfortably, aware that life on the run hadn’t given him the most pleasing musk, but Viktor didn’t seem to mind. 

“I should probably shower,” Yuuri said.

“Yes,” Viktor agreed, not letting go. 

“Do you want to come with me?” Yuuri murmured against Viktor’s lips. 

Viktor flushed. “I... Yes. God yes. But, um...” He sighed. “Shared bathrooms.”

Yuuri tried not to let his disappointment show. Viktor followed him to the bathroom, still, waited outside the stall for him to come out and presented him with towel, which Yuuri wrapped around himself gratefully. 

“I wish,” Yuuri murmured, “We could go somewhere private.”

Beside them, a door appeared in the bathroom wall. Yuuri blinked.

“Room of Requirement,” Viktor said with a laugh.

“Expecto patronum, expecto patronum-”

“Oh my god, Yuuri, we’re going to die-”

Viktor’s hands were soft, gentle, as they pulled the towel from Yuuri’s body, leaving him bare. He gasped at the slight chill, flushed down to his chest, and wrapped his arms around his naked stomach.

“I’ve uh, gotten skinnier,” Yuuri murmured, going for humor because he was too hot and too cold and completely naked in front of Viktor, who stared at his body like he wanted to drink in every inch of bare skin.

Viktor frowned. “That won’t do,” he tutted, pulling Yuuri to his clothed chest. His hands lingered on the sharp edges of his shoulder blades, protruding from his back, slid down the bumps of his spin, and settled on his ass. “Once this is over, we’ll have the kitchens make you a whole tray of pumpkin pasties.”

“Katsudon,” Yuuri mumbled, finding it hard to think as Viktor kneaded the taught muscles in his ass, squeezing and massaging the flesh with practiced grace. He let out a whimper and buried his head in Viktor’s neck, inhaling the scent from his sweet skin. 

Viktor laughed. “And Katsudon.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri whined, “You need to be naked, too.” 

“Oh,” Viktor murmured, “Do you want to help me with that?”

Yuuri nodded, unable to speak. His hands shook as he slid open the clasps of Viktor’s robes, a dark, understated brown - so different from the bright red of his Durmstrang attire. His hands hesitated on the waistband of Viktor’s pants, and Viktor nuzzled against Yuuri’s forehead, placing his palms over the back of Yuuri’s hands as they guided his pants off together. 

Viktor naked was just as breathtaking as Yuuri had imagined it in his dreams a dozen times. His skin was smooth, pale as a marble statue, marred only by a jagged scar over his heart. Yuuri pressed his fingers to the scar, frowning, and Viktor took those fingers and pressed his lips to them.

“Don’t worry about that,” he whispered, a shadow over his eyes. “Look at me. Look into my eyes.”

“Okay,” Yuuri responded, breathless, “Okay, Viktor.” 

Their bodies pressed together, skin to skin, mouth to mouth. They kissed there, in the empty room, a whirlwind of touches and pecks as Viktor lead Yuuri back to the bed. 

Viktor was on top of him, his hands shaking, as if he was afraid Yuuri would disappear with the next touch. Yuuri soothed him by stroking Viktor’s cheek with his thumb, wiping away a tear that had welled up in Viktor’s eyes. He pulled Viktor back down to him, not wanting an inch of space between them, and swiped at Viktor’s lips with his tongue, tentatively. 

Viktor laughed through his tears as Yuuri grabbed his ass, nodding in satisfaction at it’s muscled perfection. He opened his mouth pliantly, letting Yuuri slip his tongue inside and taste every crevice.

They kissed as Viktor worked Yuuri open with his long fingers, Yuuri gasping. A few hot, wet teardrops dripped onto his cheeks, his chest as Viktor moved. 

“Please don’t laugh at me,” Viktor gasped out, wiping his eyes, “I don’t usually cry during sex, I just... I missed you.”

Tears welled up in Yuuri’s eyes and he kissed Viktor again, stole the breath from his lungs. “I missed you too, Vitya. I love you.”

Viktor let out something that was half a laugh, half a sob, as he slid into Yuuri. “I love you too, Yuuri. Don’t leave me, please, don’t leave me ever again.”

“I won’t,” Yuuri gasped out, overwhelmed by sensation as Viktor began thrusting shallowly, then deeper, harder. “I won’t, I’ll never leave you - we’ll get married, Vitya, once it’s over.” 

“I’ll marry you,” Viktor grunted, kissing the tears from Yuuri’s cheeks, lips pressing sloppily against the sides of Yuuri’s mouth, “I’d marry you now, if I could. I love you, Yuuri, I love you, I love you-”

“Expecto Patronum!”

A burst of brilliant silver light erupted from the end of Yuuri’s wand, and an intense warmth spread through his limbs. His patronus, a precious little toy poodle, seemed to bark, as real as his beloved Vicchan as he leapt at the swarm of dementors. 

The poodle leaped at them, bounding to form a silver-lit circle around Yuuri and Phichit. The dementors fled, their ratty black cloaks billowing in the wind as they squeezed through the windows and into the night.

A weight, heavy as lead, lifted from Yuuri’s heart. Suddenly, it didn’t seem as hopeless.

He had been separated from Viktor, but that didn’t mean he was dead. The easiest way to know he was alive was to throw himself back into the battle - to help it end, so they could be together. And there was no point in going catatonic at a might be. If Viktor turned out to be dead, well, that was a different story - but Yuuri would deal with that later.

Phichit gasped out a sob, still clutching Yuuri’s side. 

“Phichit,” Yuuri breathed, wrapping his arms around his friend and holding him close, rocking him from side to side. “Phichit, I’m so, so sorry. I almost-” 

His voice cracked, and he hid his face in shame. His mental weakness had almost cost them their souls - it had been too close. Too close.

“Please don’t scare me like that again,” Phichit hiccuped. He was shaking all over, his breathing shallow and frantic. 

Yuuri winced. “I’m sorry,” He whispered again. “You... You should go back. Go back to the room of requirement, where it’s safe. Where I can’t... Where I can’t screw up like this again.”

“No,” Phichit hissed, fiercely, “No, Yuuri. You’re muggleborn, you’re more of a target than I am. I’m not leaving you.”

Yuuri’s heart swelled. He took a moment of peace in the silent corridor to hold Phichit, to let Phichit bury his face in the crook of his neck. They breathed together, calming each other down. 

Finally, Yuuri spoke. “Let’s get back to the others,” he hissed, eyes flashing with determination. “Let’s end this, once and for all.”

[4lyeskas]

recollect me, darling

read it on Ao3 SERIES: Yuri!!! On Ice PAIRING: Otabek Altin x Yuri Plisetsky RATING: NSFW / E WARNINGS/TAGS: WttM skate; underage (Yuri 16, Otabek 19); post-canon; blowjobs ( @otayuriwriterscollective )

 To Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky is many things.

Yuri Plisetsky has the eyes of a soldier; Yuri is strong, a force in and of himself. Yuri has storms at the tips of his fingers, the blades of his skates. His beauty and grace are crushing in their intensity. He flows like molten steel on the ice.

Yuri is an enigma. Otabek has long grown used to the different ways he treats people; his anger towards JJ, his resentful admiration of Viktor, his brash regard for Katsuki. And then he turns and that dazzling smile is directed at Otabek as he pulls Otabek down the street towards this café, as he asks about Kazakhstan and Canada and America. For all the sternness of Otabek’s expression, he doesn’t feel nearly as complex and inexplicable as this boy he’s befriended.

Yuri is bright, and surprisingly childish, and quick to insecurity. He is exceedingly competitive and uncertainly affectionate.

And, Otabek realizes as he watches that same boy step out onto the ice, Yuri is dangerous.

Yuri Plisetsky is a hurricane, and Otabek is quite frankly ruined.

His eyes are drawn first to the shades, because he distinctly remembers Yuri jeering JJ for wearing sunglasses on his head, indoors. Then his gaze flicks to the hair, his fringe pulled back in a half-ponytail, making him look older, harsher. The purple jacket is extremely Yuri, and the shirt—

Otabek inhales sharply. He knows that shirt.

He stands rooted to the ice (where Yuri had told him to stand at the beginning of the routine), staring, staring, as Yuri lithely shrugs out of that blazer to reveal a ripped black singlet underneath and that is Otabek’s shirt.

It’s big on Yuri, as is any piece of clothing that Otabek owns. The fabric pools around Yuri’s hips, which are clad in the tightest material Otabek has ever seen, and Otabek is desperately trying to keep his eyes at a more respectable level. Yuri tosses the blazer away carelessly, jumping right into a quad toe loop, stealing Otabek’s breath away with every flick of his arms, every bend of his body. And Otabek is sincerely regretting that he’d agreed to Yuri’s request that Otabek promise not to touch him for the entire day, because the curve of Yuri’s spine through the cutouts of the shirt is driving Otabek mad.

His hands twitch at his sides. His throat is dry. And Yuri Plisetsky, enigmatic and beautiful and dangerous, slides down to his knees and lifts his body into the most obscene arch, from which Otabek cannot look away. Yuri’s head is angled back, baring his throat, his torso one long line from the cant of his hips to the tip of his chin.

Otabek swallows once, twice, and remembers – Yuri coming up to him, right after his own routine had finished, leaning in close and mischievous. One hand resting lightly on Otabek’s chest, thumb stroking in tiny circles. One sentence, low and whispered, with a heat he hadn’t known Yuri was capable of. 

Don’t you fucking dare look away from me.

As if he could. As Yuri opens his eyes to stare at Otabek dead-on, lips parted and chest heaving, Otabek raises his hands in a little shooting gesture as he’d been asked. He wouldn’t tear his gaze away even if his life depended on it.

This is not Katsuki Yuuri’s eros, not Christophe Giacometti’s sensuality. This is filthy, and ruthless, and hot. Yuri bites his lip and Otabek flinches, feels something white-hot under his skin. Yuri leans back in a perfect cambré, baring his throat again, and Otabek cannot breathe.

Otabek wants.

Yuri meets his eyes at the end of the routine, chest heaving and hair a mess. There is a storm in his eyes; look at me.

Otabek realizes two things: he has severely underestimated Yuri Plisetsky, and he is in for trouble tonight.

Later, at the exhibition after-party, Otabek realizes one more thing: Yuri is infuriating as all hell.

Otabek still cannot touch him. Yuri hovers close, so close, and Otabek can feel the heat off his skin. He’s still wearing that singlet over a new and equally indecent pair of black pants. Yuri doesn’t shy away from contact with other people, suffering Katsuki’s scandalized flailing and Viktor’s overbearing hugs and even Chris’s arm around his waist. He meets Otabek’s eyes over his glass of cider and there’s a tease there, a challenge. Otabek grips his glass of champagne harder and forces air into his lungs.

He lets himself be distracted by Viktor’s loud begging for Katsuki to dance with him, but he can feel the weight of a gaze on him. It’s almost tangible. Then there’s a touch, a light graze of fingers to his hip, but before Otabek can react Yuri is with his rinkmates. Over her own glass, Mila smirks at Otabek, leaning in to whisper something in Yuri’s ear.

The gestures pile up. A tap to his wrist. A brush of the shoulder. A hand on the small of his back. Yuri’s gaze on Otabek’s lips, his chest, his throat. Yuri biting on his lip, running his tongue over a stray drop of cider. Yuri touching people who are not Otabek.

Look at me.

Otabek gives easily enough; it is nothing he doesn’t want. His gaze darkens when other people touch Yuri. His eyes follow the sway of those hips, the lean of Yuri’s neck. He breathes heavy, deliberate; the tension in his shoulders is unhidden. He watches Yuri drink in this adoration that borders on eye-fucking, knows Yuri is heady with it.

He lets Yuri read it, openly, that he wants.

Yuri licks crumbs off his fingers and smirks.

When Yuri finally makes his excuses to leave, Otabek is ready to just chuck everything and drag him into the nearest enclosed space.

There’s a light flush on Yuri’s skin, a sheen of sweat. The overhead lights of the hotel corridors throw shadows onto his collarbone, his neck, his back. Otabek watches Yuri’s muscles shift under the shirt, follows a bead of sweat down the dip of his spine.

He reaches out without thinking, and Yuri neatly catches his wrist. The young Russia skater clicks his tongue, glancing at Otabek in mock-disapproval.

Those slender fingers are fire on his skin, and Otabek could beg for more.

Yuri turns to face him completely, looking up at him with a taunt and a promise, and leads them in the last few steps to Otabek’s hotel room.

The heat is pooling in Otabek’s body.

The door clicks shut, and Yuri lets go. Otabek chases the contact, reaching, but Yuri steps lightly away and wags a finger at him.

“Not yet, Beka,” he says teasingly, even as he beckons Otabek further into the room. “Sit,” he orders, pointing to the newly-made bed. The crisply-laid sheets make Otabek want to pull Yuri down to make a mess.

Otabek sits.

Yuri comes in close, brushes his hands through Otabek’s hair. The Kazakh skater clenches his fists in the covers; his exhales come through his mouth, eyes flicking all over Yuri’s body. There’s a smirk pulling at the corner of Yuri’s lips as he leans down, right by the shell of Otabek’s ears.

“Watch,” he breathes out, and it almost rips a groan from Otabek’s throat.

He’s promised, so he holds back, fighting to control his breathing as he watches Yuri step back, lick his lips, sway his body. Yuri drags his hands down the singlet, tugging the fabric to expose more skin. In one smooth and unexpected motion, he drops to his knees, lifting back into that shameless arch as his hands push down to the waistband of his pants.

“Yura.” When Otabek finally speaks, it’s hoarse and pleading. Yuri bares his teeth in a grin while his fingers slowly, deftly unbutton his pants. The sound of the zipper is loud in the room where the only other noise is Otabek’s breathing.

Yuri lifts himself back up on his knees, fingers teasing under fabric. He pushes the pants down little by little, until Otabek can see the little strawberry birthmark in the divot of his left hip. Then he stands, shucking off his pants, left in nothing but black boxers and that damn singlet and Otabek cannot remember how to breathe. Cannot think of anything except want, want, want.

With a flick of his finger, Yuri gestures for Otabek to move further up the bed. He complies without hesitation. And without breaking eye contact, Yuri leans down and crawls up the bed after Otabek until their faces are inches apart and he’s practically straddling Otabek’s lap.

Otabek thinks he might rip the sheets with how hard he’s holding them.

“Were you watching?” Yuri asks softly, as he starts to unbutton Otabek’s shirt.

“Yes,” Otabek breathes in immediate reply.

The smirk returns. “Did you enjoy it?” Light fingers push the sleeves down over Otabek’s shoulders; he shrugs out of his shirt as fast as possible.

“Yes.”

Yuri’s index finger traces a long line from the dip in Otabek’s collar to where a trail of dark hair starts to disappear into his pants; Otabek’s skin burns in its wake. This is torture, and it is exquisite.

Yuri leans in closer and murmurs his words along the cut of Otabek’s jaw.

“Do you want me?”

“Yes.”

Yuri’s fingers play along his hips and Otabek is going to spontaneously combust.

“Yura,” he says again, brokenly, when Yuri does nothing but press his face into the curve of Otabek’s neck and skim his palms down Otabek’s thighs. His chest is heaving; he feels dizzy. He’s never been so turned on in his life.

“Yura, please.”

Yuri kisses him.

Everything he can reach, he touches. Palms splayed across Yuri’s back; teeth dragging down his neck. Hips pressed against each other’s, hot and heavy. Yuri threads his fingers through Otabek’s hair and pulls, scrapes lightly at the nape of his neck. Otabek groans against the dip of Yuri’s shoulder.

“You,” Otabek mutters into Yuri’s waist, where he’s sucked an angry red mark through the gaping arm hole of the singlet, “are extremely unfair.”

“Look who’s talking,” Yuri bites back, although it’s ruined by the hitch in his voice.

Otabek lies back on the pillows, pulls Yuri on top of him, a delicious and promising weight. They kiss and they kiss, open-mouthed and needy. Yuri rocks his hips in small motions, pressing harder and harder into Otabek. There’s a pretty red blush over Yuri’s chest, his cheeks. It makes Otabek want to consume him.

“Beka.” Yuri gasps his name between kisses, and Otabek answers by biting more marks onto his skin where people won’t see (but they both will know). “Fuck, Beka—”

Otabek growls, fingers digging into Yuri’s hips, pulling harder. They keep kissing, messier now, and Otabek keeps pulling away to mouth over as much of Yuri as he can reach. His hands move, sweep over thighs and calves and bruised feet.

“I’m going to blow you,” he states with as much composure as he can muster. Yuri groans into his shoulder.

With great reluctance, Otabek slides Yuri off his lap. The boxers come off while Otabek divests himself of his pants. When Yuri makes to take off the singlet, Otabek stops him.

“Keep it on,” he says, his expression dark. Yuri inhales sharply, but complies. He lies back, near the foot of the bed; Otabek drinks in the sight of those lithe limbs spread out. He wants.

(Look at me.)

He starts with Yuri’s ankles, little kisses to the bone, hands curled reverently around the joint. Up the calves, index finger drawing circles on the backs of his knees. The insides of Yuri’s thighs become littered with small red marks soothed by the press of lips, until Yuri is writhing and panting, the singlet riding up his body like it had during his skate program.

Otabek worships this boy, his strength and his beauty and his steel.

“Beka,” Yuri whines, reaching down to tug at Otabek’s hair again. The Kazakh skater smirks against the crease of Yuri’s thigh, drags his tongue over skin. He hitches Yuri’s legs over his shoulders, and heels dig into his back in a silent demand.

“So impatient,” he teases, biting at the soft skin of Yuri’s inner thigh. But he complies. After not being able to touch Yuri the entire day, he would rather not wait either. So he sinks down, takes Yuri in his mouth, ruins him with his tongue and with the hollowing of his cheeks. His hands press Yuri down onto the bed as he sucks, licks, hums. He flicks at the slit and Yuri muffles a cry with one hand, the other still pulling desperately at Otabek’s hair. And Otabek drinks it all in, the weight and scent of Yuri around him, the taste of his cock. He inhales and goes down, down, until the tip is pressing at his throat and Yuri is keening.

Then he pulls off, mouths down the length, and keeps going. His hands slide under Yuri’s ass, grabbing two handfuls and lifting up.

“Beka—”

Otabek drags the flat of his tongue up the crease of Yuri’s ass and Yuri loses it.

Otabek is neither skilled nor experienced, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm and acute attention to what makes Yuri squirm and moan. He alternates between eating Yuri out and lapping at his cock until Yuri is a quivering, aching mess, hand clenched almost painfully in Otabek’s hair and hips twisting frantically.

“Beka – hng – B-Beka, I’m going to – Beka –”

Otabek pulls up to fumble around the bedside table for the small bottle of lube he’d been using the other day to help jack himself off, letting Yuri catch his breath. Then he is back on Yuri, relentless, sinking back down onto his cock and moaning around it. One finger gently, carefully, circles Yuri’s entrance. He presses lightly, easing into tight heat (and he imagines it around other parts of his body, but that is not for tonight—), allowing Yuri to adjust. And then he starts to crook his finger, moving it back and forth, curling, until—

Yuri’s hips jolt as he screams into the palm pressed desperately against his mouth, and he comes inside Otabek’s mouth. The singlet has scrunched up by his armpits and is damp with sweat; his hair is plastered to his forehead. One leg has slipped off Otabek’s shoulder. He looks like an absolute mess.

He looks beautiful and ruined.

Otabek swallows as best as he can, pulling off Yuri with a wet pop. He reaches for the lube again, slicks up his hand, and jerks himself off with his cheek pressed into the inside of Yuri’s thigh. He’s so aroused that it only takes a few strokes for him to come as well, spilling into his palm.

“Yura,” he groans, hand tightening around Yuri’s hip. In response, Yuri weakly cards his fingers through Otabek’s hair, murmuring something Otabek cannot hear.

They lie there for a few moments to catch their breath, Yuri splayed out on the sheets and Otabek between his legs. Eventually, Otabek presses a reverent kiss to Yuri’s stomach, then up on his chest.

“You were amazing out there,” he says honestly, looking Yuri in the eye. Yuri’s gaze moves a little to the left, teeth worrying his lip in embarrassment.

“Look who’s talking,” he grumbles in response, and he looks so shy that Otabek laughs.

“Yura,” he says again, just because he can, and he leans down to kiss Yuri. There is no heat this time, and Otabek rolls them so they are both on their sides. They kiss lazily, pressed against each other; Otabek skims his palm down the curve of Yuri’s side, around to his back.

Yuri Plisetsky is still a hurricane, a force on the ice, but in bed like this Otabek thinks he’s more like a lazy cat. After they’ve cleaned up themselves and the bed, they settle in for the evening, ordering room service and connecting Otabek’s laptop to the television. Yuri is in another of Otabek’s shirts, though one much less revealing this time.

“By the way,” Otabek says halfway through their movie, “why did you settle for this theme for your exhibition program?”

Yuri looks up at him with a mouthful of pirozhki. Otabek figures that’s a counter-question.

“Well.” Otabek taps his finger on his knee. “Your short program was about agape, and your free skate was about strength. This was very – different.”

There’s a pause, in which Yuri chews very slowly and Otabek looks at him expectantly. Yuri picks at the crust of the pirozhki, littering crumbs on the sheet.

“Because.” There’s another pause, and then Yuri huffs. “Because,” he says with finality.

(The entire program had been very Yura, truthfully; Otabek is just curious.)

Yuri eventually drifts off first, exhausted, slumped against Otabek and drooling slightly. Smiling softly, Otabek shifts him to a more comfortable position and turns off the movie. Then he, too, slides under the covers beside Yuri to sleep.

[bluessme]

“four years, princess,” viktor stated matter-of-factly when he caught sight of her defensive expression. brooke was his closest friend and while they had gone through many changes over the years, one thing he was certain would always stay the same was her mouth. though vik had his moments, they were nothing compared to hers. taking into account her privileged upbringing, he was sure she didn’t understand the concept of consequences until her father cut off. she was too transparent and so ruthless with her words he used to joked that her mouth should’ve been registered as a lethal weapon, hence why he was not the least bit surprised it was the source of her firing.

he redirected his focus to the bubbling pot of ramen as he listened to her recount the details of the incident. he was in the middle of ripping open the seasoning packet with his teeth when she revealed the words behind her dismissal and he snorted causing a cloud of power to shoot up his nose. “damn,” vik coughed and dumped the remaining powder into the pot as he wiped his face with a dish towel. he cut the stove off and turned around to face her, folding his arms over his chest. “it’s kinda fucked up how you’ve definitely gotten away with worse, but this is what you got axed for.”

at her inquiry about his own termination, vik grimaced and shook his head, exasperated with himself. fucked-up priorities and shitty time management skills were major causes of strife in his work-school-life balance and, even after being graced with chance after chance, he still showed little to no improvement. “b,” he gave her a pointed look as he ran a hand over his head causing the slightly damp strands to stick up every which way. “i didn’t even make it out the door. he fired me over the phone. i forgot that i switched shifts so i could make my study session with jasmine—” never mind the fact not a single piece of material was reviewed the whole night. “—but when i didn’t show up mason called, asking me my e.t.a. and when i tried to explain he told me not to worry about coming in today... or tomorrow.”

though disgruntled, viktor didn’t blame the man. with his track record, it was only a matter of time before he was let go anyway. “with that being said, i think our next course of action is pretty clear,” he paused as he picked up his beer and took a sip. “you need to put on your sluttiest outfit and go ask dennis for an extension. i know “sleazy landlord” isn’t really your type, but we both know he hates me so i can’t ask him. shit, the only reason why he didn’t fine us after i punched that hole in the wall is because he likes you.”

closed starter for [ @pxpstella ]

viktor stood in front the stove, clad in only a towel as he drummed his fingers against the counter and waited for the water to boil. though outwardly composed and monitoring the pot with watchful eye, the man’s mind ran rampant as he struggled to figure out how he’d break the news of his firing to his roommate. brooke sinclair was a special case. in spite of her petite stature, she could pack a punch and after being chewed out last week for spending his half of this month’s rent on a girl, he was searching for an approach to the situation that would result in the least amount of bodily harm. in his defense, he planned to make up for it by working doubles this week. with midterms out of the way, he had time to pick up more shifts down at the campus cafe. it was just his luck his manager finally decided to fire him for his god-awful punctuality.

vik sighed and absently swiped at the moisture trickling down his face from the damp hair lying flat against his forehead. he took a moment to close his eyes and let his head drop back, basking in the silence of the apartment. brooke wasn’t going to be home for a few more hours, he figured he’d take advantage of the peace and quiet while he could.

[penciltrash-blog]

First Lines

Rules

List the first lines of your last 20 stories (or however many you have altogether).

See if there are any patterns.

Then, tag your favorite authors.

Thank you @phaytesworld​ for tagging me <3

On the Cusp of Dawn [ Otayuri, Royalty AU, 15,742 , WIP ]

The scent hit Otabek like a tidal wave, sharp as spice and sweet as honey, carrying the freshness of citrus which made him lightheaded. He could recognize that scent even in his sleep.

Love Happens [ Otayuri, Soulmates AU. 1,655]

“Your soulmate is dead, Otabek.”

The boy barked right in his face and Otabek watched him with furious eyes, clenching his fingers into a fist, shaking.

Hell No [Viktuuri, Otayuri, Soulmates AU., Humor, 7,947, WIP ]

Yuri pulled his knees to his chest, enjoying the cool breeze as he watched the colors spread around the setting Sun from his window. He shoved his cold fingers into his leopard print jacket which Viktor had gifted him on his birthday not four months ago.

You weren't Mine [jjbek, otabek and yurio, 2,199, Explicit ]

“I'm gonna kick your ass, JJ!”

“Yuri, wait-” Otabek dragged Yuri away, curling his arms around him, while he was still trying to throw his legs at JJ’s arrogant face.

Sterek Fics ------

The Boy Next Door

“Mr Deaton...” Stiles pressed the doorbell one more time, with enough force to dig a hole into it. “It’s time. Open the do-”

The door flung back at him with equal vigor and Stiles paused his raised fist on time, marginally avoiding hitting the man’s bald crown.

Colors

Derek genuinely thought a black and white world was a good thing. It was routine and familiar. In fact, with the help of his mother's eyesight, he'd realized that the color he loved the most was indeed black. 

Taking Care [ Explicit ]

Derek had lost everything.

His family, Laura and today… Hale Enterprises - which had been nurtured by so many Hale generations, for over a hundred years. Today, he’d lost his last family asset to the Alpha - Stiles Stilinski - who looked no older than a high schooler but somehow was the CEO of the Beacons.

[more sterek fics under the cut]

A Wrinkle in Time

“But Deaton, how do we change him back?”

“I don't know, Scott.”

“Does this potion contain wolfsbane?”

“A little.”

“What?! But he's… he is... ” Stiles watched as Scott struggled for the correct word, totally freaking out, and gestured at the twitching blanket in Cora’s hold. “... so small,” Scott murmured after a beat.

Grey Rainbow

“Tip number two, keep your feet moving… always.” Stiles slithered around the punch bag, his own feet bouncing on the gym floor, as if practicing some elegant tango moves.

Derek was lost. His eyes refused to move away from the gentle curves of his best friend’s lean waist. He flinched as the boy next to him - Greenberg - screamed, throwing wild punches at another poor sand bag.

But, I Will Stay

“Cora! I can't find my sock,” Derek bellowed marching into the living room where his sister’s floral perfume was irritatingly dense. “Will you just stop spoiling my socks for your silly puppet dol-”

He froze on the spot, taking in the sight of the two boys in the room. His eyes were fixated on the pale one with gleaming amber eyes.

It's Not My Lovestory

When your soulmate’s first words to you were supposed to be tattooed on your wrist, a blank wrist was quite intriguing and an open invitation to be teased.

Derek’s wrist was missing a soulband.

Especially Derek, who still scares me

Stiles’ ears perked up on hearing a sudden rustling of dry leaves from somewhere above.

“Hey, anyone out there?” He quickly  shot up from his lying position from where he’d been sprawled flat on the dirty, comfy bed of the forest floor, stumbling over his own feet. “I fell in the hole,” he mumbled, weak and disappointed, as the noises stopped. He wiped away the beads of sweat from his forehead with a quick drag of his shirt sleeve, feeling the heat striking him hard.

I'll Love You for a Thousand More Years

“Reject me, Alpha,” Cora muttered, her voice low and trembling. She raised her head finally to meet Stiles’ stunned, confused gaze. “…please,” she added with steady but glassy eyes.

“Huh?” Stiles knew he was dreaming, because this couldn’t be real.

I Hate You

“You know you love me…I know you care…”

A sudden strangled noise beside him made Derek snap his eyes open. He huffed out an angry breath, pursing his lips, irritated at the interruption.

It was Stiles. Stiles with bulging eyes, a red face and a hand clamped on his mouth.

How I Met My Spark

Stiles moved, feeling uncomfortable and irritated, dangling his legs from the rough surface of the giant tree branch. He adjusted his awkward position one more time, so it would hurt his junk a little less. It had been two hours since he’d started his guard duty of Hunter Town and not a single damn living thing had turned up so far.

Almost unconsciously, he snapped his fingers playing with a tiny flash of his magic white light, on and off, just to pass time.

You Fixed My Life

Derek settled down on a comfy salon sofa in the spacious living room, gasping in surprise when his body sunk four inches into the soft, velvet seat. Luckily, no one was around to witness his stupid reaction, yet.

He was sitting in the luxurious Stilinski mansion, waiting for the Stilinski boy. Stiles, if he recalled correctly. The offer of tutoring the boy had popped up suddenly, out of nowhere, when one fine day, his nosy sister – Laura - caught him off-guard.

When We Met (WWM)

Damaged...

That's what they called him.

Derek’s fingers fumbled with his tie in an attempt to loosen it, but the knot kept getting more and more tangled because he kept pulling the wrong end.

Escape Route

Derek was moving hurriedly towards the lacrosse field, when someone dragged him by the arm and banged him against the locker doors.

“Stiles! What the fuck…” The teen wolf exclaimed, his eyes glowing yellow, his wolf  alert.

And I tag, @eclair, @aphhun, @madamredwrites, @ghostmoonchild, @crossroadswrite, @inell, @dexterous-sinistrous

[kaijoskopycat]

Another addition to Model!Yuri and Photographer!Otabek cause I can’t let go sometimes. Plus... Viktor had to make an appearance before I completely ended it anyway.  AO3 || Previous

“I'm surprised you agreed to this,” Otabek says as they stand in the elevator. His arm is draped casually around Yuri’s waist as Yuri fiddles with the hem of his loose, tiger printed sweater. 

“Have you seen this line of clothing?” Yuri counters. He scowls at their reflection in the elevator doors. “If it wasn't so fucking amazing I would've said no. You really think I want to work with him that badly? He’s gonna drive me batshit crazy.” Otabek chuckles. “You're admitting someone else has a decent line of clothing?” Yuri punches him in the side as the elevator bell rings. The doors rumble open and Otabek’s arm falls away, hoisting his camera bag up his shoulder. Yuri barely has the chance to take half a step out of the elevator when he’s knocked off his feet, tackled by a tall, silver haired man. Yuri’s string of curses is drowned out by the shout of, “Yuratchka!” Otabek can't help but smile. “Get the fuck off me, old man.” Yuri struggles underneath Viktor’s weight. Viktor pulls back, beaming. “You agreed to a shoot with me! Yuratchka, I knew you always wanted to work with me.” Yuri successfully shoves Viktor away and scrambles to his feet. He scowls down at Viktor, straightening his sweater. “I'm not doing this for you, idiot. I'm doing it for the clothing line.” 

Viktor pushes himself to his feet and smiles. “I’m glad you enjoy Chris’s clothing as much as I do.” 

“Tch,” Yuri scoffs and stomps past Viktor. Otabek follows, fighting back a smile. Yuri always gets a little grumpy before a photo shoot involving another designer’s clothing. “I don't enjoy it. Just this line.” “Yuri, you wound me!” Yuri groans and rolls his eyes at Otabek as Christophe enters the room. He stands beside Viktor, draping an arm over his shoulders. Otabek knows about their mutual agreement to work solely with one another as he and Yuri do. But seeing them together makes him respect that agreement even more. He appreciates the familiarity that exists between them. It makes him feel more comfortable. “You certainly seemed to enjoy the last photo shoot you did for my clothing line,” Christophe smirks, his eyes flickering between Yuri and Otabek. Otabek’s eyes widen minutely. He glances at Yuri, watches the color rise to his face before he raises a single finger toward Christophe and Viktor. Viktor pretends to look scandalized and Christophe laughs. “Consider yourself lucky I decided to work with you again.” Yuri enters his dressing room and slams the door behind him. Otabek sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. He turns toward Christophe and Viktor. They're grinning at one another like they have a secret worth sharing. Otabek doesn't know if he wants to know it. “Christophe.” Both pairs of piercing eyes turn toward him at once. It's unnerving. In their industry, both Christophe and Viktor are powerful men. That fact doesn't escape Otabek as he gestures down the hallway. “Should I set up?” “Yes, of course!” Christophe breaks away from Viktor and makes his way to the hallway opening. “Second door on the right. The set should already be set up. Feel free to the adjust the lighting as you see fit. I trust your judgment.” “Mm…” Otabek nods in understanding and heads down the hall. He’s about to open the door when Christophe calls after him. “And Otabek?” Otabek glances up, hand on the door handle. “I think you’ll enjoy the outfit I’ve picked out for Yuri. It suits him quite well.” He winks and disappears around the corner. Otabek shakes his head and makes his way into the photo studio. If this outfit is anything like the last Otabek knows he’ll like it. Maybe a little too much. 

Christophe is right. Otabek does enjoy the outfit Yuri will be modeling. Flames lick up each side of Yuri’s upper body, embroidered with a shimmery material that makes them look real when they catch the light. They stretch across Yuri’s chest, across his abdomen, almost touching in the center where a stripe of mesh connects the shirt. Otabek can see Yuri’s stomach clench through the mesh and he has to remind himself to look at the whole outfit, at all of Yuri. Not to fixate. The pants are jeans, though not simple ones. Christophe redefines the casual jeans and a t-shirt. The dark wash jeans hang low on Yuri’s hips, darkened with stains that look like streaks of ash. Holes riddle Yuri’s legs, some exposing his pale skin, some with flames peering through the tattered, burned material. “Beka.” Yuri’s voice, low and teasing, breaks him from his distracted stare. “I told you this line was fucking awesome.” Otabek’s lips twitch. “Awesome is one word for it.” Yuri crosses the space between them. He runs his fingers up Otabek’s arm, stopping at his shoulders. He squeezes and leans in to breathe the word, “Hot,” against Otabek's ear. Otabek shivers and watches him saunter toward the vanity where the makeup artist is decidedly absent. He fiddles with his camera, adjusts the lights once more (he’s done it three times already, but Yuri’s costume has given him other ideas for the shoot) and does everything he can to focus on the photo shoot and not how badly he wants to rip that shirt off Yuri’s body and make him hot in other ways. Distraction, Otabek thinks with a frown. Only Yuri could muddle his brain like this. He turns away from where Yuri sits, intent on cleaning his lenses when Viktor walks in. Viktor is equally as captivating. Otabek now understands the appeal, why he's so sought after in the modeling community. Viktor is statuesque. Tall, broad shoulders, slender waist, perfectly shaped, pouty lips, eyes a color nearly as stunning as Yuri’s. Ice blue. His eye color is perfect for the clothing theme. Silver boots travel up from the ground, clutching at the top of Viktor’s thighs. His legs look impossibly long in those boots. The dark blue pants look as though they’ve been painted on. Otabek swears they must be to fit in boots as tight as those. Viktor’s shirt is completely sheer, white. Crystals are intricately woven through the fabric and every time they catch the light it looks as though an icicle forms on Viktor’s skin. Otabek wants to say something, but he doesn't know what would be appropriate to say. You both look amazing sounds too obvious and it doesn't begin to do this line of clothing justice. It’s almost as though Christophe designed this line specifically with these two in mind. He waves at Viktor, about to comment on the way the shirt draws the eye, when a voice he never expected to hear at a photo shoot comes from down the hall. “Viktor! Honestly, you forgot the armlets. Yuri too! I know they're not the most comfortable, but they really…” Yuuri Katsuki comes stomping through the doorway, slowing his gait when his eyes land on Otabek’s shocked face. “Really make the outfit…” He finishes with a sheepish grin. “Katsuki,” Otabek says as Yuri shouts, “What the fuck is Pork Cutlet doing here?” Otabek shoots him a glance over his shoulder to which Yuri offers his tongue in response. Yuuri grabs Viktor’s arm, slipping on brittle looking bands of fake ice from his elbow to the palm of his hands. “I--” He pushes Viktor faces away as he whispers something in Yuuri’s ear. “I'm actually a makeup artist.” Yuuri pulls back and shrugs. “Christophe requested me for this project and I just…” His eyes cut to Yuri and his smile softens. “I couldn't pass it up!” “Ah, my Yuuri is too sweet,” Viktor coos as he loops an arm around Yuuri’s waist and presses his lips against his forehead. “He was just dying to work with me and--” Yuuri pushes his face away again and scowls, ignoring the wounded look Viktor flashes at him and the crocodile tears. “Viktor, please. Professionalism. I work with you all the time.” Otabek chuckles and he hears a snort from Yuri in the background. Though Yuri likes to act like Viktor’s fiancé is the most offensive man on earth, he knows Yuri cares about him, even likes him, likes being around him a lot more than he wants to admit. Yuuri’s lips twitch as he walks past Otabek, offering a nod in greeting, and heads toward Yuri. “I've got similar accessories for you too, Yurio.” Otabek turns, watching as Yuri scowls and holds out his arms. He knows about Yuri’s qualms about that nickname. He also knows that he understands why Viktor gave it to him, even though he hates it. Grabbing a small camera out of his bag, he slowly heads over to the vanity where Yuri sits. He holds up the camera to Yuuri who has already started to unpack his impressive array of makeup and holds it up to him in question. Yuuri nods enthusiastically and gestures toward an empty seat off to the left. Otabek shakes his head. “I'm more comfortable standing,” he admits, shifting to the left to snap a picture of Yuri as he scowls at his reflection in the mirror. “Gives me better angles.” “Don't you dare take shitty pictures of me, Beka.” Yuuri chuckles softly as he presses a gentle finger under Yuri’s chin to tilt his head back an inch. “Then I’m lucky pictures of you are never shitty.” Yuri’s cheeks flush a deep red and his hands clench on the arms of the chair. “Oh, maybe I won't have to use any blush,” Yuri teases, dodging Yuri’s leg when he kicks it out in frustration. They all fall silent after that. Yuuri focuses on building the intended makeup to go with Yuri’s outfit. Yuri lets his eyes flutter shut, opening them only when Yuuri asks him to. Otabek snaps pictures here and there. He’s never gotten better photos of the makeup process. He watches Yuuri build a fire on Yuri’s face, quite literally. He lines Yuri’s eyes with a pitch black kohl. From the kohl he builds a fire, two flames that grow from the tips of Yuri’s eyelashes, over his brows, and onto his forehead. He contours Yuri’s face with black, ashen smudges that look like burn marks etched into Yuri’s skin. When Yuri opens his eyes, the final product brings out the faint flecks of gold in his eyes. He looks like he could set the world aflame. He’s already set Otabek on fire. Viktor’s makeup, when finished is equally as impressive. The second Yuuri’s first brush hits his skin, he falls silent, relaxed. And Yuuri builds an ice age on Viktor’s face. He takes time to tint his skin blue, contour his cheeks in a deeper blue shade and a pale, icy blue highlights the rest of his face. An icy shimmer dusts his cheeks and his eyes and Yuuri adds small crystals below his eyebrows, sprinkles flecks of glitter on the tips of Viktor’s lashes. His makeup is prettier than Yuri's, more feminine. Or it would be if Viktor’s raw masculinity didn't make it look so intimidating. As he steps into the light and turns to flash a smirk at Yuuri, a shiver runs down Otabek’s spine. Otabek is almost certain if Viktor had the power to do so, the room would be covered in a sheet of ice. “Perfect,” Christophe croons as he steps into the room and takes in the sight of Yuri and Viktor, their looks fully completed. “Yuuri, your skill never fails to astound me.” Yuuri, in all his modesty, blushes in response and shakes his head. “Really, it's your clothing line that brings it out.” “Sassy and modest,” Christophe tuts and smiles at Viktor. “You make sure you keep this one.” Viktor taps his ring finger where a tan line can faintly be seen. “I already am.” After the comfortable banter, Viktor and Yuri take their places against the black backdrop. The negative space surrounding them combined with the light blaring in from all sides makes them seem ethereal, almost supernatural. It’s like the sun and moon in the center of a pitch black universe. Otabek lifts his camera and is immediately struck by the fact that he doesn't know where to face his lens. He is naturally drawn to Yuri--for more reasons than one--but Viktor is such a natural that he can't help but tilt to the side to keep him in the frame. Christophe must sense his hesitance. He comes up on Otabek’s left and says, “Individual shots are needed, but I want them together as well. I want to focus on the stark contrast between the two.” Otabek nods and finally pushes down to take the first photo. Yuri’s eyes burn as the camera goes off, catching a moment when he runs his tongue across his upper lip and traces a finger down the flames that dance along the right side of his body. Viktor extends a hand, the faux ice bracelet that wraps around his palm glistening in the light. Otabek snaps a photo. It almost looks like Viktor holds a snowflake in the palm of his hand. Yuri leans his body backward, bracing his back against the dark wall and stretching his arms out on either side of him. He tilts his head downward, drawing attention the flames on his body and on his face. He sure knows how to work those body angles. Otabek snaps another photo. And another as Viktor imitates Yuri’s pose, back against the wall, hands in his hair, one leg draped elegantly over the other. His eyes flutter shut. The crystals catch the light. He looks regal, all-powerful, all-knowing. “Yuuri, I need you for a moment.” Otabek pauses as Yuuri shuffles over. Christophe gestures toward Viktor and Yuri and says a few things that Otabek doesn't hear before Yuuri runs off to grab a few brushes and a palette. When he returns he heads toward Viktor, pulling Viktor’s right hand toward him. “If you were that desperate for me to wear my ring, all you had to do was ask,” Viktor says with a smile. “Wrong hand,” Yuuri points out, flashing a grin. Otabek chuckles. He takes a few more pictures of Yuri as Viktor’s hand gets a makeover. “There!” Yuuri steps back and turns toward Otabek. “I’ll get out of the way before I sully your photos.” “Yuuri!” Viktor’s voice rises in protest. He reaches toward Yuuri. “You could never--” Yuuri steps out of reach. “Hand!” He warns with a frown. “Ah…” Viktor has the grace to look sheepish as he steps back into place. “And what am I to do with my hand?” Otabek notices the tips of Viktor’s fingers are darkened, black like they've been burned. “Fingers to the bottom of Yuri’s chin, like you're scratching it, or tilting it up for him to look at you.” Yuri immediately scowls and Christophe claps his hands. “And that's the exact face I need you to make Yuri! Such a capable model!” Otabek fights back a smile as he lifts the camera. Viktor’s lips curl into a smirk and it looks so natural, an image of a normal interaction between Yuri and Viktor and yet so much more. He snaps a few pictures before Viktor moves his hand, improvising. His fingers slide across Yuri’s cheek, down his neck. They pause at his collarbone when Christophe tells him to stop and Yuuri once again scurries over. He covers Yuri’s pale neck with trails of blue and silver. It looks as though ice has formed on his skin, so realistic it makes Otabek shiver. Viktor doesn't need a cue when Yuuri moves away again. His fingers press against the end of each trail. Otabek’s camera goes off. Yuri lifts a hand pushing against Viktor, another to press against his neck like he’s trying to warm the cold imprinted on his skin. They feed off one another, Otabek notices. He’s never seen Yuri work with anyone before. But as much as Yuri doesn't like people, he needs them to help him improve, to give him goals to reach, a reason to surpass the level he’s already at. Viktor is the best person for that job. He’s a level Yuri hasn't reached, a person Yuri desperately looks up to no matter how much he denies it. Otabek has seen the rare glimpses of admiration. They warm him. He wants this for Yuri, for him to reach greater heights in anything he aspires to do. He knows when the last picture is taken by the way Christophe cheers and sighs dreamily. “Aaah, what did I do to deserve such brilliant models?” Viktor prances away from the background and grins at Christophe. “You are simply too talented, my friend.” Otabek ignores their chattering and places his camera on the table before heading toward Yuri. Yuri who is trying to tug the dark red, black and gold wristlets off his arms and failing with a string of creative curses. Otabek can't help the faint smile that crosses his lips as he grabs Yuri’s arm and slowly, carefully slides the bracelet off. He does the same with the other arm, bringing Yuri’s palm to his lips before letting him go. Yuri’s cheeks light up, but he slides an arm around Otabek’s neck to pull him in for a kiss when Viktor’s shout interrupts them. “Yuratchka, professionalism! No making out while on the job.” He already has his arm around Yuuri’s waist, their bodies pressed tightly together. Yuri’s lips curl into a snarl. “Shut the fuck up, old man! Like you can talk!” He snatches one of the bracelets off the ground and whips it across the room at Viktor. iktor dodges with a hearty laugh and Christophe croons, “How fiery!” Otabek grabs Yuri around the waist before he can throw himself at the two of them. “My fire,” he says softly, chuckling as he presses a kiss to the side of Yuri’s forehead. Yuri grumbles and relaxes in Otabek’s grip. “I'm gonna kill you all. I hope you know that.” “Only after I get you out of that outfit,” Otabek counters. Yuri hesitates before slipping an arm around Otabek’s waist, his hand dipping into the back pocket of Otabek’s jeans. “Yeah, only after that.”

[omgkatsudonplease]

lily you...you cannot just tell us that yuuris gonna buy viktor a collar and then not give us that excellent material

play party au – they get collars ! !! !

yuuri buys viktor a fucking collar im dead. deceased. death by play party au rip me put this on my gravestone

@forovnix @farashasilver @skatinggays

Yuuri is nervous.

No, that’s a bit of an understatement. ‘Anxious’ might be a better way to put it. ‘Petrified’ would be just as kind. The street just outside the window of this quiet little bistro is completely devoid of tall silver-haired Russians with heart-shaped smiles, despite Viktor having sent him a message about how he’s on his way over at least five minutes ago.

Playing with the stem of his wineglass as he looks out towards the street for the umpteenth time that evening, Yuuri tries not to think about anything and everything that could have gone wrong with Viktor. He could be held up on the commute over. He could be injured. Or sick. Or kidnapped.

Or he’d suspected, and is now subtly trying to tell Yuuri that it’s not a conversation he wants to have. It’s not like Yuuri can blame him. This is a very important thing he’s trying to ask, almost on par with marriage, if the conversations at his last munch had been any indicator.

Viktor is also a professional Dominant, after all. It’s not like Yuuri is his one and only. That’s something they’d established a long time ago, though admittedly Yuuri is the only person Viktor plays submissive for. He’s the only one Viktor lets below the personas he’s constructed for the camera and his clients, the only one who’s allowed to touch him, to kiss him, to fuck him.

He’s special, obviously, but that doesn’t mean he can take for granted any sort of response Viktor might have to his suggestion.

Yuuri feels a hand on his shoulder, and almost jumps out of his chair before he sees that it’s Viktor, dressed smartly as always as he takes a seat at the table. Yuuri feels his heart skip a beat at the warmth in Viktor’s eyes, at the smile on his face. Viktor takes his right hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long,” Viktor remarks. Yuuri laughs, shaking his head.

“No, not at all,” he says, as the server comes back to ask Viktor if he’d like some wine. Yuuri smiles, watching Viktor accept a glass of pinot grigio before sighing, and saying:

“I want to formally collar you.”

Viktor pauses in his perusal of the menu to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Collar,” he echoes. Yuuri nods. Viktor purses his lips briefly, as if testing the concept out in his mind. Yuuri watches, trying to quell the nervous fluttering in his stomach.

Viktor opens his mouth, as if to respond, but then their server returns to take their orders. Yuuri orders for both of them, almost as if on autopilot; Viktor’s brows crease just slightly at that.

Yuuri notices, of course, and swallows worriedly at the sight.

“Well?” he asks quietly.

Viktor blinks, looking at him. “You were talking about formal collars,” he remarks.

Yuuri nods. “I was,” he agrees. “What do you think?”

Viktor toys with the napkin folded on his plate. “I’m…” he trails off, and takes a sip of his wine to delay his response. “I don’t know,” he admits after a moment. “It’s a lot to take in.”

Yuuri nods again. “It’d be different from being collared in scene,” he says.

“I know what it means in our group, Yuuri,” Viktor reminds him. “I’ve been involved in it longer than you have.”

Yuuri swallows. “Sorry,” he says.

Viktor smiles. “It’s fine.” He unfolds the napkin, puts it in his lap. “I’ve never been formally collared before. Nor have I done it to anyone. Lifestyle wasn’t my thing, and it’d probably affect my performance in my profession, so…”

Yuuri nods. “I understand if it’s not something you want to do.”

Is he disappointed? Possibly. But is he going to let this affect them? No. It’s clear already how committed Viktor is to him. Getting a formal collar would’ve only been window dressing.

Their food comes. Yuuri waits a moment, trying to gauge whether or not Viktor wants him to feed him. When Viktor looks at him with an eyebrow arched, his hands still folded in his lap, Yuuri nods and reaches over to cut up and portion his food, scooping up small bites of risotto with his fork and offering it to Viktor’s lips.

Viktor eats, quietly and obediently. But while this usually would have caused Yuuri’s heart to race, right now all it’s doing is make his stomach churn.

(He can say all he wants about not letting this affect him, but still the nerves crawl in, sink into his brain and his bones until it’s all he can think about with each bite of food Viktor takes from his fork.)

He turns to his own food after a moment, poking at his own pasta without much interest. Viktor watches him, expression enigmatic; Yuuri finds it difficult to meet his gaze.

Does Viktor think he’s a bad Dom? The thought squeezes at his heart in a cold vise, makes his breath come short and a lump rise in his throat. Maybe this is the end for them, the end of something that had given him so much joy over the past several months. Viktor wants him, but not as much as Yuuri wants him back, and even though he knows he has to be strong about this all he wants to do is crawl back to his flat and cry.

“Yuuri,” says Viktor after a moment.

Yuuri takes a deep breath. “What.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be obvious.”

Yuuri blinks. “What?”

“Something smaller, less formal.”

Viktor’s cheeks are flushing a lovely dusky rose, and Yuuri can’t help but get lost in the sight. Why is this man so beautiful, so perfect? How can he so consistently take Yuuri’s breath away?

“Yuuri?” Viktor reaches out, touches his hand. Yuuri startles out of his reverie. “Did you hear my suggestion?”

Yuuri swallows, feeling his own cheeks heat up. “You said something small,” he mumbles. “Less formal.” Not like he would’ve wanted to do a collaring ceremony, anyway.

“I would want the ability to take it off when I work,” explains Viktor. “I don’t think I could do it with a formal collar. But I do want something to show that I’m committed to you outside my work. Something that everyone will know means that I am yours and yours alone.”

Yuuri feels the warmth seeping from Viktor’s voice settling into his bones, chasing his doubts and fears away. Viktor still wants him. Still thinks highly of him. He racks his brains for things he could get them that would be small enough to show commitment but could be taken off if needed, things that everyone would recognise –

His gaze falls on the jewellry store right across the street from their bistro, and startles with a sudden idea.

He rises to his feet. “I’ll be right back,” he says, gesturing for Viktor to stay as he grabs his wallet and sprints out of the restaurant.

When he returns, Viktor raises an eyebrow at him. Yuuri shakes his head, as if asking him to drop it until they’re done with dinner, and Viktor sighs, bowing his head to accept some more bites of his risotto. Yuuri finishes his own plate in almost record time, and asks for the bill.

“Why the sudden rush?” Viktor wonders. Yuuri shakes his head again, practically shoving his credit card at the server in his haste to get the bill paid. His wallet is burning a hole in his trousers and he needs to get out into the air, to find a good location –

It’s only when they’re walking back to Viktor’s flat – he’d suggested they go there for the night – when Yuuri spies the church across the street from the little playground. It’s an old stone structure with carefully wrought iron doors, sparkling golden under the city’s streetlamps. People are passing by it without a second glance; pigeons are gathered on its steps, scavenging for food. Yuuri pulls Viktor across the street as soon as the cars stop and brings him up to the doors.

“I found something I hope you’ll take as a suitable alternative to a collar,” Yuuri says by way of opening, fidgeting slightly under Viktor’s stare as he reaches out to peel the man’s right glove back. Viktor blinks at him, a spot of colour appearing in his cheeks and radiating outwards as Yuuri brings out a golden ring from his wallet and, with shaking fingers, slides it onto his fourth finger.

“Oh,” Viktor breathes, an enraptured smile curling across his face as he stares down at the band, glinting even in the bright city night. “It’s perfect.”

Yuuri feels the last of the tension in his stomach melting away. “I have a match,” he says, holding out the other.

“Would you like me to put it on you?” asks Viktor quietly.

Yuuri nods, and Viktor responds by removing his right glove as well, and sliding the ring onto his finger with equally trembling hands. There’s a strange shining in his eyes as he does so, and Yuuri’s heart skips a beat.

“No one’s ever done something like this for me before,” Viktor says after a moment, evidently still lost in the glow of the ring on his finger. Yuuri smiles, clasping his hand. “It’s just formal enough for us to know what it means to one another, but innocuous enough for others. You’re a genius, Yuuri.”

Yuuri chuckles. “I thought you were hinting at it earlier?” he wonders.

Viktor laughs. “Maybe I was subconsciously,” he concedes. “But I hadn’t thought you’d go buy us wedding rings. You never fail to surprise me, my love.”

And that easy admission, that casual endearment – that only makes the golden balloon that’s been filling Yuuri’s chest since Viktor mentioned his willingness to formalise a committment expand to near-breaking point. He’s leaning in before he really realises it, and Viktor is meeting him halfway, and the kiss is perfect. Not like the obeisances, not like the demands in-scene, not even like the gentle exchanges of care and affection surrounding those scenes.

This kiss is the kiss of a new beginning, and Yuuri’s heart sings with it.