#if you have enough willpower this too can be yuri

[polychromaddict]

Living Dead Girl

I absolutely love unhinged women

I spent so long drawing this it started to feel painful to open the canvas. I know it’s not perfect but it’s fine, maybe I’ll come back to it later (I doubt it). Long hair strands are so difficult to keep track of

[jade-efflorescence]

in a daydream (dazed and confused)

spy x family | twilight/yor forger | rated t

ao3

Yor never had much experience with forever .

For so long, it felt like one of those fairytales Yor used to tell Yuri on sleepless nights, when thunder pounded on their roof and her five year old brother couldn’t stop shaking. She’d long since assumed that those promises were meant for ordinary people, without childhoods born out of practiced grace and lingering guilt.

Then Yuri grew up, whisked away to his first office job wearing the tie she'd bought for him. Yor wondered if tales of forever meant a sort of endless isolation for beings like her. She grew accustomed to an empty calendar and an emptier home, filling days with work and meekness and routine, the bitter smell of espresso from the office coffee machine that never filtered the beans right and the rhythmic clicking of her work heels across the gray-tiled floor. (Perhaps, she thought, mundanity was the only mercy given to her.)

And then something new : in the form of cornflower eyes and strawberry-macaron hair. Meeting Loid and Anya felt like painting over a canvas for the first time, when she had never been an artist. It was terrifying and joyful and wildly free. She thought of how risky this was, how much Yuri might scold her if he were to know the truth about the whole arrangement—and yet Yor stepped into this family built out of love and loss, yearning for a shard of normalcy so much it ached.

Stumbling into the Forgers’ bustling life made it very clear that “normal” was a flighty thing—every time she thought each detail was in order, there was something else that shifted its place, and she would question life all over again. Anya was unpredictable, Loid even more so. (Even Bond, sweet as he was, had his moments.) Yor spent many a night cleaning up a staining spill, sleeping on the couch with an exhausted daughter, or pacing in her room, wondering if there was anything she could do to stop the whirl of her thoughts. 

The sharpest sting came unexpectedly, like the prick of a rose thorn. A mission gone wrong, a figure in the shadows she was all too eager to track—and him. Not Dr. Forger, expert psychiatrist and devoted father. Not even Loid, cheerful and loving husband. Twilight. All but a legend, a changeling at work reversing The Garden’s well meaning plans.

A silly, avoidant part of her wishes she could erase her memory of his confession out of his honey-coated mouth, the warmth in his eyes contrasting the less than human existence he swore he’d lived as she screamed questions at him. (It would forever scare her that his supposed upbringing as Twilight mirrored her own at fifteen.) How ironic—the most genuine person she had trusted other than a child, living a lie.

That night, she stared at him, arms still covered in blood from another person’s sin. (Although—was it truly their wrongdoing? She didn’t know anymore.) All her willpower went into stopping her hands from shaking. They sat on the road of an alleyway, facing one another, knees covered in grime and dust.

A tear ran down Yor’s cheek. It landed on the edge of Twilight’s shoe. Twilight looked at her, wearing the eyes that belonged to her husband.

“Do you want to kill me?” she rasped. 

“No. Never.”

“Why not?”

“I would never want to hurt you or Anya.”

“That’s what Loid Forger would say. What would Twilight say?”

He huffed out a laugh. “His whole job is tossing out identities for the shiny, new ones. I don’t think he’d say anything different.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why is that?” She paused. “How much acting went into this…part?”

“Enough to seem convincing. Not enough to fabricate how I felt about civilians.” He hesitated. “I’d never been a sleeper cell before. As for maintaining a stable relationship with a wife and a child, I don’t exactly have a lot of family history to go off of, so my attempts could never be falsified.”

“I think you’re still lying.”

“I know.”

“I’m not sure if I can trust you again.”

“I’m aware. Do you still want to kill me?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Can we go home?” 

“Okay.”

The following morning, Yor walks into the living room at 5 AM, the exact minute Twilight sits down on the couch to drink his coffee and flip through the newspaper. (It’s been her little secret for the past few months: waking up and listening to him shuffle around the house, humming show themes lost in a Westalian fire. Not anymore.)

“You have a month.”

“Hmm?” He looks up, eyes wide. She’s more relieved than she wishes that his gaze seems surprised, unguarded.

“You have a month until I take Anya and Bond and find some village out in the country for us to live in. Finish your mission, but I will not have my daughter grow up in the tension you need for it.”

(It makes a worrying amount of sense now—his emphasis on Stella stars from Eden Academy, his encouragement to befriend the Desmonds’ son. Her worries are increased by seeing that Anya seems scarily perceptive at times, even to Yor’s own emotions.)

“Find another wife and daughter,” she continues. “Maybe someone that knows about your work. I think I remember Fiona from your office visiting a few times? I’m sure it would be easy to explain everything.” 

“No. She’s not an option.” He sets his cup and newspaper down and leans back on the couch cushions. “What do you want me to do?”

She looks at him and her shoulders slump. “Just stay,” she whispers. “Make me think forever might be possible. It’s up to you how that happens.” 

As she leaves the room, she wonders not for the first time how much of the man she’s lived with for the past few years has been a mask.

A selfish part of her doesn’t want to start over.

The first thing he does is stay close to her.

The change feels so subtly abrupt that Yor realizes how much time he’s been spending away from home. (How much of that time has been spent in updating mission files and planning out month-long strategies? she wonders.) Grocery hours are no longer spent wandering the aisles, talking herself through each item in her mental list, sometimes holding Anya’s hand as the girl hums the Spy Wars theme song. Instead, he’s there, holding one of her daughter’s glittery purple pens (a Becky gift?) to cross items off a slip of paper. Cooking becomes a two-person effort, rather than a trade-off between him and her. (His low whispers as he offers to help mix bowls filled with ingredients or help her grab seasoning from the highest cabinets feel disarmingly fragile.) When she returns from yet another blood-streaked night, he sits awake on the couch, flipping through a book in rounded glasses, giving her a soft “ welcome back.” He returns from work earlier and earlier, and though she doesn’t confront him about his work she notices how he’s willing to share any detail she might ask about.

He doesn’t push her to talk, at first. (She tries not to, in the aftermath of everything destroyed. One look at his face hurts too much.) They spend a week or two hovering around each other, like the planets Yuri told her about that faced each other in a moment of orbit—meeting glances every so often, limiting their words and time. Then he begins to share his inner thoughts—slowly, clumsily, as if Agent Twilight is discovering who he is for the first time. 

Once, they’re at the park, standing in the sunshine and spring breeze. Twilight treated Anya to a pretzel from one of those mobile stands, which Yor is now holding as the girl runs about with Bond at her heels. 

“My old friend always wanted a dog, but his family’s landlord had a rule against it when he was young,” Twilight says, watching the pair romp in the swaying grass. “He was a good kid. I wondered if he ever did raise one.”

Another afternoon, they’re sipping a floral tea Yor has grown to love in the living room, looking through the possible classes Anya’s new grade allows her to take next year at Eden. (Another thing Yor’s not used to—the sheer amount of tea she has to try. She looked in the pantry shortly after that night and found it fully stocked with boxes of tea bags, including the ones she’d wistfully glanced at when she thought no one would notice.)

Yor squints at one of the higher-level courses—a “classical” form of a language she’s never heard of. Twilight looks at it and huffs a laugh.

“I was supposed to go and examine that area, but I got…um, reassigned, so I never learned it,” he tells her, stuttering a bit over the end.

(Yor blinks. He’s never stumbled over his words before.)

“Maybe one day?” she replies.

He blinks in surprise—if Yor hadn’t been tracking his facial expressions before now, she wouldn’t be able to notice. “Perhaps,” he answers.

Other instances are disarming in a different way. It’s close to midnight, and Yor stumbles back into the apartment, tipsiness flushing her cheeks and ears pink. The first thing she does is yank off her heels and toss them into some abandoned part of her closet with a relieved sigh. The next thing she does is head to the bathroom to wash off her makeup and change into her pajamas. For once, she brushes off the wariness that comes with Twilight showering in the same room.

In a way, Twilight’s confession of his true self has calmed her. There is no longer a fragile dance she is stumbling through, knowing none of the steps or expression. She recognizes when a hunter creeps around his prey. (Hasn’t she been the prowler more times than she cares to remember?) All notions of reserve—girlish blushes and stammered apologies—are a thing of past sentiment, a faded hope in empty promises and eyes shining in the light of a midnight explosion.

Or so she tells herself as she goes through her usual night routine, listening to the steady rush of water and watching wayward droplets trickle down the fogged-up mirror. She rolls her right shoulder for a minute—there’s a knot in it she hasn’t been able to get out—and turns to grab her nightgown off the counter as she hears the shower stop. Her Thorn Princess dress lies discarded on the floor and she slips into flannel warmth, sighing in relief. She’s taking down her bun, hairpins on the counter, staring at her reflection in the mirror, when she realizes Twilight is looking at her as well.

“Do you need something?” she whispers.

(His gaze seems stunned, confused—it’s another reaction she’s never seen before.)

“I—um. Ahh,” he stutters, swallowing. (Despite herself, Yor notices the gentle bob of his throat, the ruffled messiness of his damp, darkened hair, the firmness of his bare shoulders and back and stomach, tinted gold in the overhead light.) He looks into her eyes like a man searching, filled with an emotion she’s too scared to name properly. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t think.” 

Yor’s ears heat up. Before the rest of her does, she flies outside and shuts the bathroom door behind her. (A part of her always dreamed of it—but never like this .)

He begins to write to her. Not lengthy, desperate ballads begging for attention, but short and sweet: sticky notes stuck on cabinet doors and lunch boxes and wedged in nooks of her soul.

Anya likes an extra pinch of garlic in the spaghetti sauce we tried, reads an early one. 

Tell me which teas you use the most and I’ll keep purchasing them, says another. 

They continue to show up as she vacuums nooks and puts away spices in cabinets. Last time you were at work, Anya convinced me to “play Bondman” with her for three hours. Given that you’ve certainly done it for longer, her negotiation skills are impressive. 

You looked lovely in that blue dress this weekend.

A psychiatry resident at the hospital was telling us about his first encounter with his fiancee. The way he described her made me think of you.

(Other times she finds notes she wasn’t meant to see—some in a language of nonsensical phrases and symbols that might take years to uncover. Others are crumpled up and crossed out, so ruined that a normal woman would have given up searching for their meaning. She pores over each discarded note she can read with interest, saving them in the bottom drawer of her dresser.

Every time you smile, it makes my world brighter for a second .  

I hate that Fiona asks about you all the time. 

Twilight could never be the husband you deserve. 

I think I could see forever with you. It scares me.

(She finds herself remembering the wayward notes with more fondness than the ones he leaves for her to find.)

She feels an urge to reply back, but doubts and fear overwhelm her, making it impossible to form the correct words. She starts to respond to the small papers she finds with a little drawn rose in the corner, sometimes a smiling face if she feels up to it. Finally, she places notes in little hidden spots with her own replies, often written directly on the paper they came from. They’re simple, but no less meaningful for her— I’ll remember that. Thank you. This made me smile. She’s never around when Twilight finds her messages, but maybe that is the thrill of it all—imagining the other’s expression when they do. 

(She hopes this can continue—for a little bit, at least.)

When Twilight suggests that one of their weekend dates take place in a drive-through theater that opened across town, she experiences a rush of surprise, as if she had always expected his affection to appear in small, hidden things.

“Something to remember,” he says, “when this is all over.”

Oh, she thinks, and tries to remember when exactly everything had shifted. (It’s almost been a month. It feels like much longer—at least in her memory. She wonders, not for the first time, how much he’s been keeping track of his past “deadline.”)

He wears a gray buttoned vest and the navy-blue tie she secretly thinks brings out his eyes. Yor wears her pleated lavender dress, her favorite maroon lipstick, and the old, faux-pearl necklace she bought with her first “real” paycheck as a young girl. (She usually tries to wrestle with the clasp herself, but she asks him to help this time. The brush of his fingertips against her neck has her breath catching in her throat.) 

Though their relationship has become a delicate routine of push and pull, she’s aware enough to sense a new dynamic in their midst tonight, something that makes her count every step and listen closely to every word that falls out of his mouth. He drives them to the theater, an arm around her headrest, talking about the history behind the pre-war Ostanian film that they are about to see and the “eccentric” behavior of the lead actress with fame thrust upon her—how does he find time to learn about this among all his unspoken duties? she wonders. When she asks, he gives her a shy, wavering smile. “I suppose I’m eager to learn about anything that might fascinate you.”

“Oh,” she whispers, and turns to look at the window beside her, ears growing pink.

(She realizes how quickly she began to dream of a forever created from their joined hands, even though she was the one giving him an ultimatum. Perhaps she only wanted him to prove that his fluttering words held weight to them, that he might still search for her in a room when the mask of him was put aside.)

They park on the rapidly filling lawn and Twilight climbs out to find some food for them. The sun is dipping into a curtsy behind the horizon, streaked with hues of pink and orange. Yor takes a second to close her eyes, smile at the call of a nightingale in the distance, listen to the lighthearted, excited conversations around her. She hears the carefree shrieks of children, teenagers laughing about a story with their friends, even the wavering tones of an elderly couple admiring one another close to her. For once, she isn’t rushing to the next event in her mental schedule, or living an experience that no one else seems to be able to understand. 

It feels…peaceful. Odd that one of the most uncertain times of her life has become such.

He comes back with a soft smile she could bask in forever, holding a tray of food. He hands her a toasted sandwich and a tall glass cup filled with a rose-pink mixture, topped with whipped cream and a cherry. 

“Strawberry milkshake,” he explains as he climbs back in the car and clutches his sandwich. “Have you ever tried it?”

“Once,” she answers. “Yuri had just finished secondary school—at least, what time we could find after the war. There was a place that had just opened near us, and the girl that took our order was younger than me.” She had thought quite a bit about that as a teenager, weeks after. It had been years since she remembered. 

“Ahh, I see. Well, I hope it’s as enjoyable tonight,” he says.

“Thank you,” she replies, glancing down. She wraps her hand tightly over the freezing glassware. She almost misses how his gaze follows the absentminded tapping of her nails against the dish, as if every part of her was worth seeing.

The movie begins, and he’s right—Yor loves it. From the blade-sharp banter of the two main leads (who, ironically enough, are spies engaged in a more low-stakes mission than the one she knows), the whirlwind gaiety of their on-screen chemistry, and the surprisingly well-choreographed fight scenes, she finds herself enchanted, lost in a world comfortingly similar to her own. It isn’t long before her sandwich is gone. She’s brought back to earth by the quiet bump of a paper straw against her teeth. Her milkshake is finished and the glass has lost much of its chill, melting water droplets trickling down her palm. The only thing that remains is the small red cherry. 

She glances up at her husband, only to find him staring back at her. She draws a breath and lifts the cherry up by its stem, feeling a sudden sense of nervousness. “Do you want it?” she murmurs, still aware of the movie playing in the background. 

Silver moonlight dances across his cheeks and nose, dusting his features in an otherworldly glint. “Always,” he whispers.

She reaches out her hand to drop it in his, but he leans forward and curls his fingers around her wrist, biting the cherry directly off the stem. His fingers trace over her wrist slowly, so tender that the tiny movement has her struggling to focus on the movie outside. He swallows and draws a breath. The corner of his mouth is stained red. 

Yor’s seen an episode or two of Love in Berlint, she knows how this goes. She sets down her empty glass, places a hand on his cheek, and traces it with her thumb in a burst of confidence. “You’ve got a bit of something,” she says, trying to mimic the breathy tone of the actress she remembers. 

He smiles, the small secret one that shows his dimples the best. “Oh, do I now?”

Did she say it wrong? She pauses, hovering over his cheek. “Aren’t you supposed to kiss me?”

“I’d rather hear from you instead of a script, sweetheart,” he says, gazing at her with a lifetime’s worth of affection, leaning the side of his face on her open palm. “Yor,” he continues, and her name tastes like sticky-sweet toffee in his mouth. “Do you want to kiss me?”

Yor’s never been good with words, but tonight she doesn’t mind. She leans forward and meets his waiting mouth with her own. He tastes like cherry juice and hearth-warmth and her undoing. He holds her wrist and forearm ever gentler, using the other hand to cradle the back of her head. She’s soaring, hyper-present of the way her stomach tumbles as he draws her closer to his chest, pressing into her touch as if she is the most interesting woman alive. Their breaths mingle in a shared sense of yearning as they tangle their limbs and souls closer, faster, deeper. He bunches his free hand into the skirt of her dress and twirls his finger around her necklace. She reaches out to run her hands through his hair and leaves lipstick marks across his collarbone. By the time they break apart, their mouths are blooming pink and the open field is almost empty.

Yor adjusts her hair and necklace, staring at her half-put on shoes, unable to keep her face from flushing. She’s a bit relieved to look back at him and see a similar hue staining his cheeks and ears.

She clears her throat. “Do you want to stay?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I could think of a million reasons you wouldn’t.”

“None of them are true.”

“Really?”

“Yor, this has been the happiest month of my life. It’s the happiest I’ve been in…a long time, I think. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you .”

“But what about your Strix? And all the other missions you wish to go on?”

He pauses and sighs. “I can’t say I’m attached to treating us as temporary. Not anymore. At the same time, spying is all I’ve ever known. To leave this practice, especially in the state of the world as we work in, would take a significant amount of time. I’m not opposed to leaving it entirely, but I have no idea how to get there.”

“I see. I feel similarly with my line of work.” She starts to wind her arms around herself—he takes a second to wrap his arm around her shoulders instead. “I thought about leaving after Yuri had grown up, before I met you and Anya. But I couldn’t bring myself to in the end.”

He chuckles—a small, wry thing. “Perhaps that’s why I love you.”

“For being a little too self-sacrificing?”

“For hoping you can make the whole world better, with only your outstretched hands.”

“An open palm is better than none at all, I think. Between us, we have two at least.” She stifles a yawn. “Ready to go home? I think we’re one of the only cars still here.”

He looks at the dashboard, his mouth dropping open. “I…completely lost track of time.”

Perhaps it is the late hour, perhaps it is the amusement from surprising her responsible, time-conscious husband, perhaps it is the dizzying knowledge that she is known , and that everything will continue to fall into place. All Yor knows is that her laughter fills the car as they travel home.

[tharizdun-03]

Love Live! Sunshine!! Season 2: EP 1-4 Watchthrough

SEASON 2 TIME!!

#1: "Next Step"

i have no idea what the fuck she's doing but riko is such a good girlfriend

me to riko when she makes weird noises i don't understand

i really loved yohane's introductory episode, but then thought she played too much into her schtick when it worked much better when her embarrassed self awareness of it clashed with her theatrics, so more like this.

like this moment here when she gets into character, but then realizes playing things up won't help right now and she just sinks into her sadness. fucking broke my heart, that slump.

i suppose it's nice that she's more often in yohane mode cause it means she's found a group that accepts her playing this persona, which is great! but i definitely want more vulnerable moments consistently, to humanize her further. she doesn't have to abandon yohane for that.

Maybe. I mean, anything's possible with the butterfly effect, you know. Maybe if you just stepped on a bug that day, you could've prevented WWII. I mean, it'd have to be before the war ofc. Unless you stepping on that bug now impacted a future time traveller. That'd work too.

Honoka could change the weather through her willpower alone, so maybe you can manage a miracle too.

chika's girlfriends embarrassed at seeing her panties. yes, girlfriendS. they are polyamorous. it is written. i have decreed it. (mari and kanan are exclusive for example, so there is reason behind my ships lol)

sunshine has made me into the biggest yuri headcanoner lol.

i also love how you can tell just how much i'm enjoying a show depending on if i write long threads for each episode i watch or not. if i am, that's good fucking shit.

#2: "The Sound of Rain"

These two kind of are the nerds of the group tbh. Yohane is into her chuunibyou stuff (and would probably love something like Dungeons and Dragons btw) and Hanamaru is a big reader. It makes sense they'd develop a bond over that.

chika and riko being cute again.

i dunno, yohane speaks all the time. and i wouldn't call either kanan and especially not mari shy. at least, those are not their core differences that is causing this clash.

what in god's name happened to that first screenshot lmao

fun shot

they're

cute

yeah, that's the sun, stupid.

i like that this episode focused on the other girls separated from our main trio. immediately introduced us to new dynamics, cause that's when these shows work the best, when it's just these dorky girls bouncing off each other.

#3: "Rainbow"

Silly little comedy, but also, this is a big part of Sunshine!!'s charm. This is what they're selling to students. The rural environment, the local fruit, the ocean, the community. Not the actual school, which seems kinda whatever really (3 hours between busses, like?).

also, while i like the opening for this season, it's not a highlight like the first one, but i do love the ed we have for this season, which is just the girls being their cutest

no, not quite yet.

it's nice seeing ruby having grown comfortable enough to banter with yohane like this

look at those smiles. they are so in love. (also, nice reference to the first episode)

besides the first opening, i don't think sunshine has had any outstanding songs like SiP, but i like the classical theme here. also, it was the best choice to go to love live primarily, i think. ofc, they manage to do the open house too, cause that's the kind of show this is.

#4: "Don't Be So Formal with Me"

this show.... getting me all emotional. yes, it's okay to be yourself! you don't have to change fundamentally to get close with other people. you don't have to change your dynamic or friendship, that it's unique to their relationship with you is what makes it special to love!!

you guys know that episode in k-on's second season were mugi feels self conscious about her friendship with the girls cause she doesn't have the same kind of dynamic with all the physical comedy? yeah.

aww, my sweetheart.

and then a minute later lol

dia scaring off dolphins with a glare alone

i love how in You's fantasy, Chika has all these everyday jobs like working at a restauarant or as a florist, but You herself is a model! (photographed by her girlfriend, ofc)

on that note, You looking real cute with her hat and pigtails

nooo, dia, your line with hanamaru was good, you were jumping off of a previous topic and she doesn't interact with customers. they're just stupid, you did well!

hey, remember in you's fantasies back in like ep 11 and she had that random bear costume? we have context for that now as we find out this is a part time job she's taken before.

i dunno how she got all those kids' attention with just some dance, but queen lol. one of the best episodes of this series so far. incredibly cute episode with so many lovely gags and a minor emotional conflict that the series can't over indulge itself on. superb stuff.

[kayssweetdreams]

Prim and Proper Problems Ch 3

After School, both schools released their students, both unnerved about the encounter of the visiting school. Due to Ren and Miguel needed to stay after class for a while, and the other kids had to run some errands, Kaylo and Yuri had decided to walk back to their homes. The two of them had taken a shortcut through Timeville Park, where Yuri had decided to try and catch one some butterflies, and Kaylo was drawing up ideas for a song writing assignment she had.

Just then, a man had walked up to them "Are you two Yuri Brand and Kalliope Bruno?" He asked. The two of them looked confused before nodding their heads. "I need you two to come with me." He said. The girls looked concerned "Um...Can I call my parents really quickly?" Yuri asked. "Both of your parents are waiting for you. Now come with me." He said.

The two of them followed the girls to the school grounds, where they found their parents looking concerned, as well as Madame Prim and the 3 girls from earlier "Um...what's going on?" Yuri asked. Elieen motioned for Yuri to come closer "Yuri...This woman says that you attacked her students. You too Kaylo." She explained. Both girls then began to protest "That's not true!!" They shouted.

Madame Prim shook her head "The thinks children will say these days to get themselves out of trouble. It was just awful." She said "I Bring my girls to make new friends, to introduce them to other schools...and your daughters attack them." Thea raised and eyebrow "Miss. I don't think that they would attack anyone. Yuri wouldn't hurt a fly, and Kaylo doesn't have the willpower to actually START a fight." She said.

Madame Prim glared at her before she recomposed herself "Dolly Dear. Do show them the damage caused." She said. The girl from earlier, now known as "Dolly" removed an ice pack she had on her face, and revealing a very large and scared bruise on her cheek. Yuri and Kaylo looked confused "What in earth?!" They yelled out.

"And if that wasn't enough, they stole from Dolly's friends!" She sobbed. Stefan glared at the older woman "OK. I know my daughter is many things, Sometimes crazy, and maybe eccentric at times, but she certainly isn't a thief." He stated. Madame Prim snapped her fingers, making a security guard from the school bring out a metal detector scanner...and inside of Their pockets were two pins that had the Boarding school's logo and crest.

"How-When did this get in my pocket?!" Yuri quivered. Kaylo threw the pin down "We didn't take these!!" She yelled, but Madame Prim just continued her tirade "You naughty girls! You ought to be thrown in Juvenile Hall for this!" She screeched. The girls and their parents were both horrified at the prospect, until Madame Prim cleared her throat.

"However...I may be able to clear this all up. Under one condition." She said. The families looked at her oddly "WHAT condition?" Elieen asked. "Those two delinquents have to be disciplined for their actions. But not in their schools. I propose 1 month at MY school." Madame Prim stated.

The parents didn't like this idea, after all, one month at a boarding school they never heard of before was not what they called "Disciplinary Action". However, if what Madame Prim said was true, the girls could truly go to juvie, they could get in BIG trouble. But they didn't seem to mind it "PUT US IN JUVIE!!" Kaylo screamed out, getting on her knees and pleading to her parents.

Yuri however, didn't think she would survive Juvie...she thought she'd get torn apart in there "Um...Can't we just try the Boarding school?" She asked. Kaylo shook her head "NO!! You saw those girls right?! They were all devoid of all emotion!" She whispered at Yuri. Madame Prim however heard her whisper and tisked "And now you talk badly about my girls! You definitely need to be disciplined!" She seethed.

Thea and Elieen glared at the woman, starting to get angry at her. "Look. If it makes you stop calling our children delinquents, we'll send them to the school for a month. But after that. I don't want you near my daughter again." Hiro said. Madame Prim gave a haughty sniff. "I suppose it'll have to do. As long as they pay their debt to society." She said. Yuri let out a sigh of relief, however, Kaylo immediately started begging to her parents "NO!! PUT ME IN JUVIE INSTEAD!!" She cried.

Thea was heartbroken at her daughter's wail, but she knew she had no choice "It'll be alright Kaylo...It's just 1 month. Then after you come back. It'll be like it never happened!" She said, trying to comfort her. Hiro and Elieen were doing the same to Yuri, unaware that Madame Prim was starting to gain a...unusual grin.

The next day, Yuri and Kaylo, now in the same uniform as the Boarding School, were now getting into a bus that would take them to the school. Both families came to send them off...and there were a lot of tears shed by the Bruno Family. Yuri was saying goodbye to her precious bugs before she left while Candy Bruno played Kaylo's favorite J-Pop song. The Wonder Stars were holding up a banner that said "See you in a Month!" While Haoyu flew above them with his own flag, and Jose and Miguel both played a song meant for Yuri...even though it wasn't finished yet

Madame Prim however, rolled her eyes at the goodbyes before the two girls finally boarded the bus. "Alright! Let's get on with it now." She said, waving the various people away, before she signaled that it was time to go to the driver. The bus drove off, getting father and farther away from Timeville...as the two girls began to get very...tired. Before they passed out however, they heard Madame Prim talk to them.

"Now then...It's time to wipe the slate clean. Soon you'll be respectable children...one way or another..."

The brand Family (except Yuri) belong to @sundove88

[lost-in-yujikiri]

SAO Pride Week 2021 Day 5: Kirito x Eugeo

Interestingly enough, in terms of the original Light Novel version alone, I don’t think Kirito x Eugeo has the kind of concrete evidences to be considered as queer as much as Asuna’s consideration of Yuuki’s marriage proposal or Dakira’s canon love for Fanatio, aside from Kirito’s genuine thoughts & appreciation for Eugeo in his life (which all are removed in the anime adaptations) or Eugeo’s blushes whenever Kirito is being touchy-feely skinship around him. Yet it’s very much the 2nd popular ship in SAO Japanese fandom and also most popular non-canon ship among Japanese fans with a lot contributed fanarts on twitter & pixiv. From some old discussions on Japanese twitter back when the anime adaptation of Alicization Human Empire sub-arc aired, there are a few queer symbols attached to these 2 male characters which attracted some more “serious” mlm fans too:

1. In Japanese, a duel-wielding slang 両刀使い (ryoutou tsukai) also means “bisexual”:

Source: jisho dictionary, though you can search the word in any Japanese dictionaries and it will give the bisexual meaning.

Of course, this is not a firm statement that Kirito is bi or anything since there are other duel-wielding characters in other series who I don't think are bi. Though from a various viewpoints of Kirito’s bisexual fans whom I know personally, from canon story he usually treats his special skill very awkwardly instead of spamming it all over the series. He hides it a lot, he's awkward whenever someone asks him about it (Klein & Alice), he only uses it when it's truly necessary. But when Eugeo gave him the Red Rose Sword he's finally so determined to use it, adding with his LN monologue as how after a lot of denial, that’s when he's finally accept "Kirito the Black Swordman" and "Kazuto the mortal human" are the same person.

2. Rose (薔薇 - ”bara”) is a symbolic flower for gay relationships in Japanese culture (with Lily (”yuri”) as the equivalent symbol for lesbian relationships). In a number of anime, when two boys have rose background featured in their scene together, that interpretation might very likely show up in the Japanese audience’s head.

Source: japanesewithanime

First of all, blue rose is Eugeo’s flower motif.

Technically blue rose in Japanese language of flower means:   「夢かなう」(Dreams come true),「不可能」(Impossible),「奇跡」(Miracle),「神の祝福」(Blessing)

and usually Japanese media uses red roses more for the gay implication as red rose means  「あなたを愛してます」(I love you),「愛情」(Romantic love),「美」( Beauty )「情熱」 (Passion)  「熱烈な恋」(Feverish Love)

personally I think the technical meaning of blue rose fits Eugeo more and not the official implication of sexuality.

However, we do have a scene with Kirito & Eugeo being together in a red rose garden as the background. At first when I saw this scene I kind of found it very odd, surely rose flowers in UW are top magical and they can't just be grown anywhere besides the Church, but the scene had Eugeo specifically point out roses, and zoomed in the red roses, even though the rose itself wasn't used as magical items or anything in later fights and had no importance in the plot. Then when I read discussions on Japanese twitter I was reminded that red rose is the symbolism of male homosexual, the implication might fly over foreigners' head and casual viewers but Japanese fans of course noticed it. In fact, it's exactly after that episode that many new YujiKiri/KiriYuji Japanese fans and artists appeared.

In episode 24 (LN volume 14), Eugeo used his willpower to mend his broken sword with his blood, and the Blue Rose Sword turned into Red Rose Sword, which Eugeo gave to Kirito as a half of Kirito’s duel blades, Kirito accepted it and continued to use it in Underworld. Given that duel-wielding is also a Japanese slang for bisexuality, it gives a probable interpretation of deeper romantic symbolic layer than just what was shown on-screen as the act of a dying boy’s push to the living boy to move forward.

3. Merchandise tribute:

On August 25th, 2020, the official team released an official pair ring necklace that composed of 2 rings with designs based on Kirito’s Night Sky Sword & Eugeo’s Blue Rose Sword.

4. Game adaptations tribute:

- SAO Gameverse: After Alicization novel was published Eugeo is the only male character who keeps getting bed scenes with Kirito in SAO console games accompanied with CGs. You can watch the bed scenes here: Hollow Realization || Fatal Bullet || Alicization Lycoris

- Alicization Rising Steel: In this semi-canon game, there are a few events that give out very intimate or even Unresolved Sexual Tension vibe between Kirito & Eugeo. You can watch these events here: Giving Back || The Bond Residing in My Sword || An Odd Feeling

[sporadiclilbook]

Okay, I will never shut up about Yuri Leclerc, so can I request Insane in Carne for him please? Thank you so much! (Lqbqjqjajqj im sorry for requesting him so much-)

Its aight anon! Your yuri requests allows me to rest from genshin requests so its all good! I hope you like this. Hope you don't mind it's post-ts! (Also he wasn't recruited in any houses!)

Tw: imprisoning. Implied kidnapping

"Little bird, have I done something wrong?" Yuri asked you. He sounded sweet as honey but you know there's more to it. After all ever since you're stuck in this 'room', he's the only person you ever met ever since. So you had learned to notice the little things about him.

And you could tell he was livid right now. His tone of speaking was a dead giveaway.

You certainly know why though. You had tried to escape. Again. This must be the tenth time already. Yuri must admit, your willpower was impressive. He thought you would've given up after the third attempt but it seems like you weren't the type to give up so easily.

He wished you weren't like this though. So stubborn. So innocent. So ignorant of the dangers of the world. No matter how honeyed his words were, he didn't manage to compel you to stay put. "I'm just keeping you safe, you know. You've heard what I said about what's going on out there. War and bloodshed everywhere cause by those who wants control over Fódlan. I simply don't want you to get hurt in the crossfire."

In a way, it was true. There is indeed a war going on right now. The Adrestian Emperor was hellbent on defeating the Church of Seiros and it's allies. You wanted to help the kingdom you hailed from but Yuri stopped you by.....well, confining you here. Goddess, you don't even know where you are! "Yuri I know that you care for me, but isn't this a bit too.....

extreme?"

Extreme? Yuri wouldn't call this 'extreme', in his humble opinion it's taking extra measures in your safety. Just like how he did back then in the Abyss. Sure to some people it is extreme but you were used to it, right? "I don't understand what you're talking about dear. I'm simply--"

"Keeping you safe. That's what you been saying! But all you did was suffocate me instead."

You yelped as he backed you up against the wall. He had enough of it. "Now now don't be such an ungrateful lover. Have I not been kind? Have I not be LOVING?" There wasa brief moment of silence before he realised what he said. Or rather, the volume of his voice with you "Ah.....hmm....little bird, look what you've done. You've made me quite angry now. My sweet little bird so naive, so oblivious and so.....so......lovely looking helpless." He laughed a bit before continuing "The things that you make do, (Y/N). How you wrapped me ever so closely around your fingers. How you make me feel such strong emotions. It's all because of you."

"Your situation, your CONFINEMENT. Is not my fault but yours. YOU were the one who dragged yourself into this. I merely.....responded. So tell me, whose responsible right now?"

You wanted to talk back but it was clear as day that it would not be a good idea. Not when you're defenceless. And with your current position, you can't get out of his grasp. In a last bit of rebellion, you stayed silent. Unwilling to answer. He chuckled at this. Mouth curved into a grin. You were really making him upset right now.

"If you're gonna be like this, then I suppose I'll have to make you speak. One way or another."

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 66 – A Solution, a Dilemma, and an Ordeal

“Just as I’d thought.” 

Upon Frankenstein’s murmur, Takio and M-21 stuck out their faces from behind him towards the papers he was holding. 

Alas, they gave up straight away as their eyes locked upon the numbers, graphs, and charts incomprehensible for their level of knowledge.

Tao, the only person they could count on to translate them into human language(?) was busy fidgeting with the machine that just printed out the papers. 

Which is why they had to wait for Frankenstein to explain. 

And they showed the generosity of waiting until Tao could bring Yuigi from the machine. 

When the subject of the tests finally arrived, Frankenstein nonchalantly raised his glasses and began his lecture. 

“Simply put, I need to take a look at your head.” 

“What?” 

“Huh?” 

“Hmm?” 

Yuigi retorted in fluster, with Takio and M-21’s bafflement resonating in the background. 

Tao’s mouth was hanging open as well, his eyes very close to popping like a pair of balloons. 

“That was meant to be literal. There’s something in your head.” 

“...So Yuri that bastard did something under Crombel’s order, when I was imprisoned at his temporary lab.” 

Yuigi scowled as hard as she could and moved her hand to her temple.

She could not remember what happened back then, her memories blurry due to pain. 

She tried scrutinizing what was left of the pieces of her memories, but she could not find any scene holding Yuri doing something to her head.

Assuming it happened when she finally succumbed to pain, Yuigi focused her gaze upon Frankenstein, demanding more details.

Flapping the papers, Frankenstein landed upon the page about in the middle and turned it around for his small audience, displaying CT and MRI pictures of Yuigi’s head. 

The pictures were not so big, but the four of them could see very clearly something was there, their vision much more superior to normal human vision. 

They could see an array of spots, each of them much more miniscule than grains of sugar, scattered in the area where her frontal lobe would be. 

“I don’t need to tell you what I want you to look at, do I?” 

“No. But what’s this? Did something get into Miss Yuigi’s head?”

“Yup. I recalibrated that machine according to my manual, and I believe Crombel planted nanochips in your head, Yuigi.” 

“Nanochips...? Are you saying all those spots are...” 

Yuigi’s body heaved, as if she were just notified that the dinner she had yesterday was infested with cockroach eggs. 

“When I...” 

Frankenstein’s lips were shut in the course of his reply. 

The pull between his lips were so natural, like the sort that would exist only between two poles of a magnet. 

Which is why no one noticed that it was not his intention to halt in the middle. 

Calming himself by fingering his glasses, Frankenstein restarted himself as smoothly as he could. 

“When I left this place, I could get my hands on several files and data on the Union. Some of them were about Union arts and crafts we weren’t aware of, including this technique that employs nanochips. Since Union's main focus was on the mastery of body modification, nanochips were not exactly the favorite from Union’s shelf of goods. But I wouldn’t say they completely disregarded this technology, since it’s on the list of items that none other than Ignes took her time and effort and resources to study.” 

“So are you saying the nanochips in my head are Ignes’s creation?”

“Either Crombel snuck away her recipe to dissect and put it back up in a fashion he prefers. Or she stole some of the ingredients he was handling.” 

“So what exactly does this thing do?” 

“Consider it a remote control to make a marionette out of its host. One of the features of this nanochip happens to be automatically appropriating the host’s control over its body when the host finds itself in mortal danger, so to make sure the host will stay alive as long as its puppeteer wants.” 

The four humans gaped at him, confusion clear on their faces, and Frankenstein continued on, probably having foreseen this. 

“Remember what happened when I had a rematch with the 1st Elder right before our final showdown against Crombel? Back then he was under Crombel’s control. He served as Crombel’s battle figure, his mind in one piece, with only minimum amount of life force left in him.” 

“...With his willpower trapped within, watching and hearing and experiencing how his body is not his...?”

Yuigi muttered, the only one who did not take part in the aforementioned battle, apart from Tao, who had had wire updates on the situation. 

The three members of the RK knew why she looked so stunned when she had nothing to do with this occasion. 

“So... You’re saying the nanochips that Yuri injected into Miss Yuigi are...” 

“They were probably the prototype of the technology Crombel used upon the 1st Elder. You said when you were fighting with that Kornel guy, you couldn’t even speak before you had an outbreak of emotions and broke free from the unwelcome disconnection of your mind from body, right? Unlike you, at least 1st Elder could offer some words to me back then.” 

“Wait a minute. The gas we fired was based on a sample of Yuigi’s DNA.” 

“So maybe all the people who went through body modification are plagued with...” 

“Oh, don’t worry. The results show that the mechanism of body appropriation derives solely from these nanochips. And as you can see, these nanochips were inserted only in specific parts of her brain. So the victims won’t turn back to pseudo-zombies.” 

“So once these nanochips are gone...” 

“You can return to who you are. I’ll soon come up with a treatment, so I’d appreciate it if you could take your time and wait.” 

Yuigi nodded in affirmation, but in reality Frankenstein knew there was no need for a treatment. 

The only thing Frankenstein had to do was to draw out just enough power he needs to destroy the nanochips within all at once. 

However, he had to coin a specific treatment for the sake of another soul who was unofficially booked for a doctor’s appointment with him. 

Another reason why Frankenstein scurried from Lukedonia upon hearing Yuigi’s symptoms from Tao. 

And something that had been poking needles into his sanity way before the QuadraNet project joined to add trouble to his side. 

‘Lord Muzaka said that during the nuclear missile incidence, his body scrammed from the site on its own. Which would most certainly mean his body saved itself from mortal danger. I bet I can find the exact same nanochips in his head as well.’ 

If he were to be honest with himself, Frankenstein was dying to use this opportunity to his benefit, to broider the front and back of the werewolf lord’s head with big, fat, angry marks from his grasp. 

‘But I have no reason to turn the entire wolfkind into my enemy, after everything that has happened. Not to mention Lunark won’t be happy if she later finds out what...’ 

At then his hand froze in the middle of its frenzied waltz across Yuigi’s test results. 

It was neither in his intention nor in his cognition, yet his thoughts darted themselves right back to Lunark before he could stop them.

In fact, he was stunned for a moment back when he mentioned Ignes’s studies, for he was reminded of the werewolf warrior who visited his island to hand the files of the noble whom he destroyed himself. 

Now that his mind summoned Lunark twice, everything he regarded he had left behind in Lukedonia – his thoughts about her, his deliberation on her, and his feelings for her – cascaded right into his heart to cause furious ripples.

He came back to Korea to seek time to himself, but seemingly fate did not want him to waste his time taking refuge. 

Towards the room that the RK and Yuigi emptied, the sound of footsteps that Frankenstein would always notice regardless of time and place drew near. 

Which was a sign that he could hide no longer. 

“Master.” 

Raizel’s face was blank despite Frankenstein’s greeting, a natural response from a non-talkative noble. 

Which was why Frankenstein momentarily lost his control over his facial profile when Raizel dispensed a verbal reply to his greeting. 

“Still afraid, are you?” 

Raizel’s words drew Frankenstein’s ears right back to Earth, the blonde man mincing his lips. 

“Frankenstein. You treasure her.” 

Raizel usually leaves others untouched in terms of their emotional states, in respect of their respective owners. 

Yet here he was, volunteering to unwrap the subject as soon as he made his arrival, especially at a time like this, which gave Frankenstein good idea of how much he had been in anguish. 

And now that the topic was out in the open with Raizel’s courtesy, Frankenstein knew somehow sneaking past this topic is not an option for him. 

Considering where he was standing at this point, he knew he should at least touch on – no, definitely put an end to this dilemma. 

“I believe you already know she treasures you just as same. You would know the colors of symphony in your hearts have been identical for a long time.” 

Frankenstein’s lips were unmoving, his tongue dormant. 

“Know I well what you dread. You must have dreaded harming Lunark even little under the influence of the Dark Spear, as Lascrea attested. Remember I of how the Dark Spear absorbed Crombel and the shards of Blood Stone to attain greatest power in its history. And with Lunark recovering from the harm caused by the Dark Spear, I can feel how haunting the guilt of your heart is.” 

“...Then you would know. You would know that is exactly why I don’t deserve to...” 

“Do you still believe you will be a harm to her?” 

As mellifluous as crimson silk was Raizel’s voice, but Frankenstein had centuries of experience with his master to pick up how his tone steeled by the smallest of the shade. 

Which is why he unconsciously began retracing the facts instead of losing his words. 

“...No. I can no longer detect Crombel or Blood Stone within the Dark Spear.” 

Frankenstein was telling the truth. 

Although he had no chance to look back on exactly what Lunark did to him, too occupied with agony while standing guard by her bed, he could feel how the Dark Spear returned to how it used to be before it absorbed Crombel and the Blood Stone. 

“Then no more is the reason for you to hesitate, is there?” 

Frankenstein was dumbstruck, the answer so very simple and clear. 

The reason why he had been staying away from those dear to him, Lunark included, was because he feared he will lose his battle of dominance against the Dark Spear and manifest as a weapon threatening them. 

His fear grew even more humongous ever since the nightmare of effigies the Dark Spear staged for him. 

But now that the Dark Spear can no longer be a nightmare for him, there was no reason for him to keep himself isolated any longer.

“What is the bidding of your heart? The choice is most definitely yours, but I have had my lessons from 820 years of sleep. Only logical for us it is to live our lives to fullest, with no regrets, during the time that is given to us. We must listen to our hearts for what they wish. We must follow the choices our hearts seek.” 

Raizel gazed at his most trusted follower, unmoving and silent. 

“I have already told you. The last thing you can save at the moment is time. So do not save your time. Use it well to look into your heart in wholesome.” 

“...Yes, sir. I shall do that.” 

Raizel, as always, did not linger after delivering all of his messages. 

Frankenstein stayed muted in solitude until he got moving; it was time to take a look at another patient he was tasked with, and Tao joined him in the middle, rather faster than what either of them expected. 

“Right now, we are the only ones tending to Mr. Jang. Now everyone at KSA knows about his betrayal, so nobody’s visiting him. Well, Sir Rael was the only one apart from us that...” 

Thanks to Tao, Frankenstein was reminded of the lesser son of the only one he could ever dub as his true friend for his life. 

Rael already left prior to his return to Korea, and being the heir of Kertias, the fastest of nobles, by now he would be officiating his homecoming in the Lord’s Hall. 

And Frankenstein heard from his team about the skirmish Rael had with none other than his own kind – with none other than a head of a noble clan. 

Tao was about to voice his concern for Rael while he was at it, but then he suddenly heard Frankenstein puffing out a ball of air. 

Did he just laugh when we’re discussing Sir Rael here?

Tao’s eyes bulged out, but Frankenstein did not let him stare at him, wiping off his face of his laughter and concern. 

‘What am I worried about? I should worry about myself. As of now, that boy will have no trouble at all.’ 

After a brief self-reprimand, Frankenstein began to strut ahead, with Tao tagging along and complaining at him to wait up. 

(next chapter)

Previously Raizel asked Lunark to take good care of Frankenstein. Now he’s telling Frankenstein to follow his heart. I didn’t plan or see this coming, but I made Raizel a matchmaker in my fic. XD As you would’ve noticed, next chapter will be featuring on Rael, through a scene that I had been dying to compose since the brainstorming stage for this fic. Stay tuned and find out how my boy is going through another growth in his career as a head of his clan!

(Edited) I just realized I posted this chapter instead of saving it as a draft - my mistake, and I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again! My apology for whoever that got confused with the early upload!

[avaruussade]

Control

otayuri | E-rated | 3.5K words “Okay, I might have one. But you won’t like it.” “This isn’t about me, this is about you,” Yuri says, rolling his eyes. He’s 99% sure Otabek is just playing it safe by saying that, although Yuri can’t help wondering what could be so bad even he wouldn’t like it - he thinks everything can be enjoyable if Otabek is involved. They exit the park and start heading towards Otabek’s apartment until the silence between them is broken again. “I want to tie you up.” Read on AO3

“What’s your secret sexual fantasy?” They’re in the middle of their evening jog, and Yuri had hoped his inquiry would take Otabek by surprise and change something in his usually serious expression (or maybe even make him stumble a little). However, all he gets is a questioning raise of eyebrows. “That’s sudden.” “No, it’s not. We’ve been dating for three years and we haven’t had this conversation yet, so I’d say it’s about time,” Yuri says as they enter Almaty Central Park. The temperatures had been steadily dropping in the past few weeks, and the park is mostly empty when they jog past one of its beautiful fountains and follow a path lined with tall trees. “It’s also your birthday in two days, and I suck at giving presents.” That pulls a small laugh out of Otabek, the sound of it making Yuri smile. The competitive season had just started a few weeks ago, and since Yuri had basically used his entire summer flying between Russia and Japan for practice, he had decided to come to Kazakhstan to spend some time with Otabek instead of going home after his first competition of the season. He knows they only have a limited amount of time together before both of them have to get back into their own home rinks, but he’s going to enjoy these few days - especially because Otabek’s birthday is just around the corner.

“I don’t have one,” Otabek says, answering Yuri’s original question. “Don’t lie.” “I’m not lying, though.” “I know you are,” Yuri says, shooting an amused look at Otabek when they jog through the park. “You can tell me! I won’t judge you or anything.” For a moment Otabek says nothing, and Yuri doesn’t pressure him. In their years of friendship and romantic relationship Yuri has learned there are different kinds of silences when it comes to Otabek: the comfortable one where neither of them has to say anything; the heavy one that mostly appears when Yuri lets his anger boil over (which doesn’t happen that often anymore); and the one where Otabek needs time to either think or gather enough courage to say something. The last one is the most excruciating one for Yuri, but in the end it’s always worth the wait. “Okay, I might have one. But you won’t like it.” “This isn’t about me, this is about you,” Yuri says, rolling his eyes. He’s 99% sure Otabek is just playing it safe by saying that, although Yuri can’t help wondering what could be so bad even he wouldn’t like it - he thinks everything can be enjoyable if Otabek is involved. They exit the park and start heading towards Otabek’s apartment until the silence between them is broken again. “I want to tie you up.” There’s a subtle stumble in Yuri’s step, but he manages to hide it. “Okay.” “Okay.” “Why?” “You said you wouldn’t judge me.” “I’m not judging you.” “I said you wouldn’t like it,” Otabek says to defend himself, turning his back to Yuri as he unlocks the door to his apartment building. The tips of his ears are red, but Yuri isn’t sure if it’s a result of their run or because the topic of their conversation makes him slightly embarrassed. “I didn’t say I don’t like it, I’m just… surprised.” “Does the thought make you uncomfortable?” Otabek asks when they start climbing up the stairs. Yuri’s legs are already trembling, but he’s not going to say anything because Otabek isn’t showing any signs of exhaustion. “Why would it?” “Well, you… you like to be in control.” “Are you calling me some kind of control freak?” They’ve finally reached the right floor, and Yuri has to stop at the top of the stairs to give his legs a little break. Otabek is already at the other end of the corridor, unlocking the door to his apartment. “No! That’s not what I meant.” Otabek watches Yuri stagger into his apartment and fall onto the floor, unlacing his shoes. “I meant what I said. You want to be in control of things in your life, like when it comes to skating or anything else you do. And… kind of in the bedroom too.” Yuri gives Otabek a hard, doubtful look, but he can’t deny what Otabek is saying. It’s true that he wants to have control over his surroundings, because that’s how he learned to survive when he was younger. Back then he didn’t know how to deal with all his negative feelings and thoughts, so he started controlling everything he could: how his body moved on and off the ice, how he interacted with other people, and how the world saw him. He has since learned not to hide behind overflowing confidence and arrogant attitude, but finding himself in situations where he simply can’t take over and be in control makes him anxious. Yuri knows this, and a part of him is angry that Otabek knows this too. “Does it bother you? Me being controlling in bed,” Yuri asks, finally standing up. He’s feeling a lot less exhausted, and he definitely needs a shower. Otabek is already a step ahead of him, pulling his shirt off while he disappears into the bathroom. Yuri follows him, freeing his hair from its ponytail and combing through it with his fingers. “I didn’t say you’re controlling in bed, you just want to be able to take control over the situation if needed,” Otabek says, meeting Yuri’s eyes through the bathroom mirror. There’s softness in his gaze when he brushes his fingertips against the back of Yuri’s hand. “If that makes sense.” “It doesn’t, really,” Yuri deadpans, both of them knowing he actually does understand what Otabek is trying to say; he just doesn’t want to admit it. Otabek gives him a small smile when they get into the shower, and Yuri has a hard time pretending he’s still offended by getting called out. “I’ll think about it.” “You don’t have to do it if the thought makes you uncomfortable.” “I’ll still think about it. It’s your birthday, after all.” Otabek seals the deal with a kiss, and deep down Yuri already knows what his decision will be. -- It’s very typical for Otabek to be romantic in the most casual, mundane ways: he never buys Yuri flowers nor writes him long, sickly sweet text messages (because he knows Yuri would hate both of those), but he remembers Yuri’s favorite coffee order and gets them tickets to a Disney movie screening whenever a new film comes out. He calls Yuri ‘darling’ and kisses the blush on his face afterwards, and he would never cross Yuri’s boundaries. So, even though he’s lying on Otabek’s bed in nothing but his underwear and has his hands tied together, a part of Yuri feels safe. The other part is absolutely terrified. “It’s not too tight, is it?” “Isn’t that kind of the point? It being painful.” “No,” Otabek says. His tone isn’t sharp or ridiculing, but there’s a small frown on his face. “I know you’re not into that.” Yuri can’t deny being surprised when Otabek finally answered his question about sexual fantasies the other day, but after thinking it through, Yuri came to the conclusion that he should get out of his own comfort zone more often. Yuri knows nothing will change the fact that he absolutely hates not being in control of basically everything in his life, but he’s also aware he has to challenge the uneasy feeling of losing that control if he wants to grow out of his negative thinking patterns. He also got a little bit offended when Otabek implicated he’s a control freak, and although Yuri tries hard not to do things just to prove someone wrong, sometimes he just can’t help it. He’s kind of having second thoughts about his decision, but it is Otabek’s birthday and when Yuri had told him earlier they could try whatever he wants, the lust-filled flash of excitement that visited Otabek’s face made the back of Yuri’s neck hot in the most pleasant way possible. Otabek runs a hand through his hair as he sits between Yuri’s legs, meeting his eyes. His shirt is already accompanying Yuri’s clothes on the floor, and the grey sweatpants he has on are hanging low on his hips. He draws invisible circles on the side of Yuri’s right knee, the touch igniting sparks somewhere deep in the bottom of Yuri’s stomach. “Okay?” Otabek’s voice is deep and steady, and suddenly Yuri’s mouth feel dry. “Okay.” Their safeword is axel. Yuri isn’t sure is he going to need it. The kiss Otabek places on Yuri’s lips is gentle and soft, and Yuri’s immediate response is to slide his hands into Otabek’s hair and pull him closer. He tries to act on his instinct, but Otabek is faster, pressing Yuri’s tied hands against the mattress. “Don’t make me regret not tying you down,” Otabek says against Yuri’s lips, his voice low and pupils blown. It pulls a helpless whine and a curse out of Yuri. “No touching.” “No touching,” Yuri repeats quickly to confirm he’s understood. Otabek kisses him again, but it’s totally different this time: he runs the tip of his tongue over the seam of Yuri’s lips before slipping past it, a small sigh of pleasure filling the air. Yuri grinds hips hips shamelessly against Otabek’s knee placed between his legs, the breathy laugh Otabek lets out feeling like electricity in his veins. Otabek is smiling when he kisses Yuri’s neck, teasing him with a gentle scrape of teeth before licking over his pulse point. He travels down on Yuri’s chest with confidence, enjoying how Yuri’s body responses to his touches. By the time Otabek’s lips reach the waistband of Yuri’s underwear they’re both breathing heavily, anticipation hanging heavy between them. It takes all of Yuri’s willpower to keep his hands pressed against the mattress over his head when Otabek mouths the outline of his half-hard cock through his underwear and places a string of kisses on his inner thighs. Yuri follows Otabek’s every movement carefully as he takes off the last piece of clothing Yuri has on and reaches for the bottle of lube standing on their bedside table. He gives Yuri another kiss before settling back between his legs, gently guiding them more apart. A wave of pleasure travels through Yuri as Otabek runs his fingertips up on the underside of his dick before stroking him slowly. Otabek kisses him again and smiles against his lips when a brush of his thumb over Yuri’s hole pulls a quiet moan out of him. He leaves feather-light kisses on Yuri’s neck and teases him with his fingers, circling his hole with lube-covered fingers, careful not to push one past his rim despite Yuri’s needy whines. Otabek sits back and Yuri can’t tear his eyes away from him: his shoulders are relaxed, and although there’s a slight blush on his face, his overall expression is calm and collected. He looks comfortable and in control, and the sight turns Yuri on more than he ever expected. He’s breathless, and when Otabek meets his eyes and finally pushes a finger inside him, Yuri finds himself gasping loudly. The sound creates a small, teasing smirk on Otabek’s face and Yuri has to close his eyes to keep himself mentally together. He tries to focus on keeping his breathing stable and how the slow movements of Otabek’s fingers in and out of him create sparks of pleasure inside him. He rolls his hips to get Otabek’s fingertips brush against the spot that makes him see stars without fail, and that’s when Otabek pulls his fingers out of him. “Eager.” “I’m ready.” “I know you are.” Otabek’s tone is unwavering yet gentle, but the small smirk is still dancing on his lips. Yuri kind of wants to kick him. “You don’t have to tease me like that.” “I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” Yuri doesn’t know how he’s supposed to answer, and Otabek doesn’t wait for him to say anything. He pushes two fingers inside Yuri and curls them just enough to reach his prostate. Yuri throws his head back against the mattress and curses under his breath, and Otabek goes back to slowly fingering him open. It takes less than a minute for Yuri to grow impatient again, and after a few needy whines Otabek fastens his pace but makes sure to avoid the spot Yuri wants him to touch more than anything. The annoyance makes Yuri’s toes curl, and right when he’s about to complain, Otabek’s fingertips brush briefly over his prostate again. By now Yuri knows it’s not an accident: they’ve done this so many times Otabek knows exactly what to do and how to move to make Yuri feel good. He comes to the conclusion that Otabek’s plan is to tease him until he’s going crazy, and then some more. But Yuri doesn’t call him out or tell him that’s not something he agreed on, because Otabek is looking at him with dark eyes, mouth slightly open and a hard-on straining against the material of his sweatpants. It makes Yuri’s head spin, a wave of pleasure shooting through his body every time Otabek decides to press his fingers deeper inside. Yuri’s dick is already leaking with pre-cum when Otabek takes off his pants and gives himself a few firm strokes, his deep sigh of relief making Yuri whine. He’s itching to touch Otabek: run his hands over his chest, climb onto his lap and ride his cock until they’re both gasping for air. Yuri knows he’s already extremely close to the edge, and he has to clench his hands into fists when Otabek continues his teasing by pushing into him excruciatingly slowly. They moan in unison when Otabek is in to the hilt, his hands gripping Yuri’s hips to keep both of them still. Yuri’s mind feels hazy, his breathing getting heavier when Otabek settles into a steady pace with his thrusts. His orgasm builds up, heat pooling in the bottom of his stomach, and he can’t help himself - he tries to wrap his fingers around his cock to relieve himself, but Otabek moves faster. He stills and pins Yuri’s hands above his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up at the groan of frustration Yuri lets out. “Keep your hands to yourself,” he says, only slightly out of breath. “For fuck’s sake, Beka-” “No touching. You promised me.” Yuri isn’t sure is the pout on his face more angry or pleading, but Otabek dismisses it easily with a quick kiss. He lets go of Yuri’s wrists but doesn’t turn his eyes away, hard gaze with blown-out pupils wordlessly telling Yuri to behave himself. Yuri obeys, but only because the peak of his pleasure got cut off, and he can still feel it bubble just under the surface, ready to take over him. He gives a nod of agreement and Otabek treats him with a roll of his hips, his cock sliding deeper into Yuri in one fluid motion. It doesn’t take long until both of them are chasing after their releases again, Otabek’s pace picking up as Yuri moans under him. He crosses his legs behind Otabek’s back to keep him close, and his brain is ready to short-circuit as he gets closer and closer to the edge. And then Otabek pulls out. Yuri gasps in shock, his mind unable to register anything for a brief moment. When he manages to gather his thoughts, he feels nothing but utter disbelief, his denied orgasm still tingling in the tips of his fingers. “You fucker,” Yuri says, and Otabek places a hot kiss on his neck as an apology. “I was so close.” “Me too.” Once again Yuri isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say, so he keeps his mouth shut and lets Otabek press kisses on his neck and down his chest, them stirring awake the pleasant heat in the bottom of his stomach. Yuri welcomes the feeling and allows it to wrap around him, his nails painfully digging in the skin of his palms when Otabek slides into him, the moan he tries to bite back almost sending Yuri over the edge. Otabek’s thrusts get sharp and fast until he slows down, rolling his hips in an angle that makes Yuri squirm and whine helplessly. His orgasm builds up, prickling electricity travelling through his veins and igniting fires in his every cell, and when it’s ready to take over Yuri’s body, Otabek stills. It leaves Yuri gasping for air, and when it happens for the third time, Yuri doesn’t care what he might have promised. He knows that a light brush of fingertips over his dick would be enough and he tries to relieve himself, but Otabek is there to guide his hands away before he even gets close. This time Yuri fights back, kicking with his feet and pulling his hands to himself. When the first tears of frustration roll on his cheeks, Yuri considers using the safeword. “Beka, please.” Yuri absolutely hates begging for anything, but it feels like his every nerve is oversensitive and close to exhaustion. Otabek kisses his tears away, holding his arms still. “You’re doing so well, darling.” “I hate you.” “I know,” Otabek laughs, but Yuri finds nothing funny in the situation. His head is cloudy with all the pent-up pleasure and he feels like he has lost the last remains of control over his body. Otabek holds his tied hands above his head and kisses him, rocking his hips in a way that makes every rational thought disappear from Yuri’s mind: all he feels, hears and sees is just Otabek and his desperate need to come. Otabek angles his thrusts just right to hit Yuri’s prostate over and over again, and Yuri finds himself pleading for permission, even his own words not making any sense to him. He’s somehow keeping himself together until Otabek is kissing his neck again, whispering his name against his skin. Yuri’s orgasm hits him almost violently, his mind turning into crackling static. His back arches up and his senses turn dull, and he barely registers Otabek pulling their bodies close to each other as he comes inside him. Yuri’s eyelids feel heavy, and his body is still far from recovered when Otabek shifts on the bed and slides two fingers inside him. “No, no, no,” Yuri says on an instinct, writhing in the sheets. They both know that’s not the safeword. His body is unsure how to react to the press of Otabek’s fingers, the overstimulation making him feel feverish. He’s trembling but still leaning into Otabek’s touch, wordlessly asking him to get deeper and drive both of them mad once more. “Fuck, Yura,” Otabek nearly moans, his fingertips reaching the already abused spot inside Yuri. Hot tears burn Yuri’s eyes but he barely notices them, flood of pleasure hitting through him and wiping every sensible thought out of his head. He rides Otabek’s fingers until he’s unable to feel or hear anything and he’s repeating his boyfriend’s name over and over again, his body shivering with aftershocks. Yuri is still seeing stars behind his eyelids when Otabek dries his lingering tears and undoes the restraints around his wrists, gently guiding his arms down before getting up. Yuri listens to the bathroom tap running, his thoughts slowly coming back together. He forces his eyes open when Otabek sits down next to him and brushes a wild strand of hair out of his face. “Everything alright?” Otabek asks, his voice a tiny bit hoarse. Yuri opens his mouth to say something, but forming words turns out to be way harder than he expected. He closes his mouth and nods instead. Otabek kisses his forehead before pressing a warm towel over each of his wrists, faded-pink marks going around them. Yuri lets Otabek clean them up and accepts the glass of water given to him, exhaustion making his every move slow and languid. He’s happy when Otabek gets back into the bed and throws the covers over them, and he’s free to curl up next to him. Yuri’s every muscle aches, especially in his arms, but it’s a different kind of pain than what he gets after countless hours of training: it makes him drowsy and satisfied in a way nothing else can. “I think I fucking blacked out,” Yuri says after a moment of silence, and Otabek huffs a laugh into his hair. “So you liked it?” Yuri doesn’t reply instantly, because he’s not completely sure did he like it. At first he was uncomfortable with the thought, but he can’t deny enjoying the way Otabek carried everything out. It’s clear to him that Otabek knows he’s not ready to do everything again soon, but to his own horror Yuri realizes that maybe in the end it wasn’t that bad to lose all control and be completely at the mercy of Otabek. “Yeah,” he finally says, reaching up to press a kiss on Otabek’s jawline. “I liked it.”

[cheerysmores]

I’m faraway stuck here

Previous part HERE

Getting his things to his new place doesn’t take as long as Yuuri first thought.

It starts out slowly: dropping off his spare gym bag when coming home from the rink, packing some old out of season clothes from the very back of his closet, boxing all the little trinkets he hastily threw into a suitcase while nervously staring at his one way plane ticket to St.Petersburg. They’re all things he theoretically doesn’t really need. Things he can live without should he choose to back out, choose to stay.

More than once he wavers on his decision. Packing some more of his clothes, he stops when his fingers brush the worn softness of an old red sweater. It takes him a second to realise that it isn’t his, that it’s the first piece of clothing he ever borrowed from Victor when he’d seen it mistakenly folded at the end of his bed. He stops himself as he goes to bury his face in the thick material, but the ghost of an old smell still brushes past his nose as he pulls it away. He recognises the cool scent of the ocean. Images of warm breezes and warmer smiles splash through his mind in dappled watercolours as he remembers quickly tugging it over his head on the last day of summer when the orange of the sunset had just started to sink below the horizon. He also remembers what happens after, the firmness of another hand in his, pulling him into the soft foam of the shallows as a dozen messy kisses were scattered like rose petals across his cheeks.

He stuffs it back into Victors side of the closet and quickly slams the door.

Like sand slipping through an hourglass, slowly more and more of his belongings make their way to the small apartment in a mess of disorganised piles. Each new box he carries through the door, carries a little piece of his heart with it. The sound of packing tape ripping is what he imagines his soul breaking might sound like as well.

He knows the route by heart. It’s much further away from the rink then he would have liked, but right now, this is all he can afford. Some shitty one bed with a cold breeze and colder looks in the eyes of the other tenants in a neighbourhood that almost scares him when he walks through it at night.

But doesn’t scare him as much as what he thinks might happen if he stays.

Part of him is almost glad he’s so far away, that they’re coming from opposite directions to train, that he can’t just accidentally end back at his old place when running.

Victor’s place he mentally corrects himself.

It bites whenever he thinks like that. Deep down he knows that once it was his place too. That for a while, even just a short while, they had a life here- together. He also knows that that safety and warmth haven’t been present between those four walls for what feels like an eternity at this point, it’s no longer the environment to nurture life and love.

It’s that thought that has him collecting the remnants of his livelihood and hiding them between four flimsy cardboard sides.

He knows he’s being a coward, finding the cheapest place he could in secret, packing when Victor isn’t home, keeping his words short and robotic at the rink. He wants to say that this is wrong, that he shouldn’t be doing this, but he just can’t. He knows this is what he needs to try and set his mind in some kind of order. Every time he thinks of stopping, the same cold sharp reasoning screams loudly in his mind.

He’s tried everything to fix this, tried time and time again to get Victor to talk to him, tried with all the warmth he could to break through the chilled wall of silence the other man had erected between them and at this point… frankly he’s just sick of being the only one putting in any effort to try and salvage whatever they are.

He knows he isn’t stupid. He can see Victor is hurting, that something is wearing down his spirit until all the brightness of his inspiration had dulled like stone tossed about in a stormy ocean, but nothing he had been doing had helped.

Until Victor has the willpower to actually tell him what’s wrong, there’s nothing else he can do to try and cement the cracks between them.

And he certainly doesn’t want to dwell on the fact that it was starting to feel like the other man just doesn’t care anymore.

And so the last of his things get carefully wrapped and slowly driven over to his new place.

He thinks about telling Yuri. Despite the sharpness that characterises the teenagers tongue, Yuuri knows that he cares, knows that he’s basically family at this point. Knows that this is hurting him too. He mocked and rolled his eyes whenever Victor and him were more than a little affectionate, but it was nothing compared to the quiver of fear Yuuri can see flash in his eyes as the indifference between Victor and everyone around him grew.

Unlike himself, Yuuri isn’t sure if yuri actually knows how to be silent. He’d asked about it, hanging around after training and pointedly asking “what the hell is with you and the old man?” Yuuri didn’t have the energy to try and paint a rosier picture.

“He’s hurting. He’s hurting about something and he won’t tell me what,” he’d replied, trying to get round him so he could pick up the keys to his new apartment.

“It’s hurting you too isn’t it.” It’s not a question.

Yuri’s words had caught him slightly off guard. He knew he hasn’t been hiding his feelings that well at the rink, everytime Victor had given a less than enthusiastic comment, his whispered curses hadn’t been subtle, but Yuri wasn’t someone he expected to comment.

“I just don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve tried and tried and tried and he just won’t- talk to me.” The words were gushing past his lips before he could stop himself, the fact that someone was finally acknowledging this breaking the lock he’d put around all this. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his gaze dropped from Yuri’s. “I’ve tried to help but it’s like he won’t let me.”

“So don’t then.” He held up a hand when Yuuri’s eyes had shot back up in surprise. “Look, I want him to go back to his normal oh-my-god-will-you-stop-talking-for-five-seconds self as much as you. He’s useless to everyone here right now.” Yuri folded his arms and leaned forward a little, tone hushed. “But if he’s not going to take the help he’s freely being given by those who care, take it away and see what he does then.”

“It sounds so harsh when you put it like that.”

The teenager just shrugged at the comment. “Put yourself first for once. Believe it or not, you’re not here solely because of him.” He took another step forward, the blade of his expression suddenly softer. “It’s because you fought to be better.”

For the first time in weeks, Yuuri felt the smallest sliver of hope break through the thick bricks of doubt in his mind. He’d actually smiled as he started walking again, Yuri keeping up as he went. “I never expected to hear that from you.”

“Tell anyone and I’ll skate over your throat.” The words were blunt, but Yuuri could hear the slight playfulness behind them. “But I don’t think being around him is good for you right now.”

They’d continued the rest of the walk to Yuri’s place in a comfortable silence until he started to wave the younger man off.

“Hey, Yurio.” He’d stuffed a small piece of paper in his hand before he could question. “It’s my new address. I’m moving in next week.”

It had felt good to do that. Finally telling someone about everything that was playing on his mind, giving him the push to finish what he started.

There’s just one last thing he needs to do. Something that he knows is going to hurt more than the thousand heartbreaks he’s felt splinter in his chest every time he’d been swatted down when he tried to reach out.

He has to tell Victor.

He wants to be surprised that Victor hasn’t mentioned Yuuri’s disappearing things but with how much he’s been sleepwalking through his days like a zombie and collapsing in the guest room when getting home late that he really isn’t.

It’s almost a relief, but it still hurts just that little bit more. How his things, his life can just vanish from the place they both called home and it not feel any emptier.

It’s the purpled dusk of a steely March evening when Yuuri finally gathers his courage.

He sits on the very edge of the sofa, wringing his hands together until his skin aches as he stares at the front door. The last box of his possessions are open at his feet. His skates are deliberately placed on top, next to his olympic jacket which is carefully pressed and folded. He hopes the image alone will be enough to convey what’s happening when Victor walks through the door.

He’s already rehearsed what he’s going to say. He’s had weeks to think about how Victor might react to the news, had more than a dozen sleepless night to play out every scenario in his head, but even now he knows that the minute he sees the realisation dawn in Victor’s eyes that all his words will most likely disintegrate in his mouth.

But still, he can’t run from this. Even if Victor might want to.

Every minute feels like it’s being dragged through syrup as it passes. The light fades ever so slowly through the window until the shifting shadows gradually engulf the room in an unkind darkness. Yuuri uncrosses his legs and shifts on the couch as he watches the clock in the corner tick from nine to ten to eleven, the worry in his gut only pulsing more strongly as each hour passes.

It’s past midnight when he finally breaks.

Either Victor was pushing himself at stupid hours of the night, or he somehow knew what was coming, either way Yuuri is done hanging on for him. In any situation.

Exhaling slowly, he grabs a notepad from across the table and just starts writing. Everything he wanted to say for the past few weeks feels like it’s bleeding from his pen as he writes. All his anger, his love and his hurt spills onto the paper like the flow of so many of his tears as he goes, not stopping until everything he ever thought about the whole situation is stabbed into the pad in messy black and white.

Ripping the sheets from the notebook, he feels some of the weight also rip out from his chest as he throws the pen across the room. He doesn’t reread it, just turns the paper over and rubs his temples.

It’s not the closure he wanted. But it’s done. If Victor reads it, then he’ll finally know exactly what he’s doing to himself. To both of them.

It’s the final thing he’s going to do for Victor. At least until he deigns to reach out to him for once.

He knows he’s being bitter. Knows that if at last years GPF he could see what he was doing now, he’d scream that that wasn’t him. That he could never do that to Victor. That he’d find a way to make it work, yelling and crying that Victor would never do that to him.

He fights the ghostly burn of old tears at the thought.

He’d tried staying and it had done nothing. Maybe space was the only thing left that could heal the chilled air between them. It’s all he has left to try at this point.

He leaves a letter left folded on top of the coffee table as he leans down to pick up the box at his feet.

He feels his body lock up a little as the ring on his finger glints softly in the low light.

It’s the one thing he’d refused to pack, refused to put away despite the fact it felt like it was getting heavier and heavier with the weight of old memories as each day passed. He twists it on his finger until the gold burns his skin raw as he stares at the paper in front of him. Eventually he takes it off and lets the warmed metal sits in the palm, the warped view of his own eyes staring back at him on the mirrored surface.

He dreams about the day he bought it almost nightly, vividly reliving the nervous buzz in his stomach as he slid the matching band onto Victor’s finger while the cold December air bit into his cheeks. When he’d passed his credit card across the counter, he really hadn’t known exactly what he wanted, just that he needed to do something to show how much Victor’s support and love really meant to him.

Things he hasn’t felt for what feels like a lifetime at this point.

He feels something catch in his throat when he spins the ring between his fingers and catches the half snowflake still intricately etched inside. If there was one thing that kept him wavering it was how he knows Victor still has his on. He’d seen him twisting and rubbing it whenever the stress got too much, sometimes pressing the metal against his forehead like it could somehow draw out pain if he tried hard enough.

The rings were two halves. Two puzzle pieces made to be together. Golden wedding rings he’d bought in the hope he could hold onto the similarly golden joy that burst through his mind every time Victor took his hand.

They aren’t memories he’s willing to cut off just yet.

He puts it back on, carefully placing his keys to this apartment by the note instead.

Shutting the door behind him, he’s surprised by how easy it is to walk away now, even with the weight of their commitment still burning prominently and solid on his finger.

He’ll have to face Victor at the rink at some point, have to face whatever it is he might say, but that can wait for another time. He has a few days rest now, maybe he can use the time to figure out a new future.

Five World Championships was what he promised. It might be time to carve out a more realistic goal. One for both of them.

Collapsing into the single cot in his new place, he sleeps with his phone upturned by his face. He knows Victor probably won’t reach out immediately, maybe won’t even notice that he isn’t there when he finally comes home, but that doesn’t stop him turning up the ringer to full volume.

Just in case.

AO3

[sneezehq]

I request a trans Yuri sick fic (feel free to reject) Suppose Viktor had to do a thing and Yurio was stuck with Yuuri for some reason. Yurio thinks he has a simple stomach bug (some emeto pls) but later escalates into ending up to be something hospital-level serious. And Yuuri takes him. Only to find out via hospital records that biologically, Yurio is actually a girl. Not that it makes Yuuri feel any different toward Yurio. -Homura (sorry if that made no sense. English isn't my main language)

Your English is great! This is my first time trying to write a trans character, so I hope I did a good job! Please don’t crucify me if I made a mistake; gentle criticism is okay. Enjoy!

Day 26: Say It Ain’t So, Doc!

“Now, you two don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone,” Victor says lightly. He’s traveling to Moscow for a meeting with some sponsors, leaving Yuuri and Yuri to fend for themselves. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Without looking up from his game, Yuri responds, raising an eyebrow. “We wouldn’t want to anything you would do, either. Remember that time you and Chris decided to go caroling in the middle of July?”

“We were drunk!” Victor protests, his voice going an octave higher. “Anyway, the point is, you two have fun while I’m gone, but not too much fun, okay?”

He gives Yuuri a peck on the cheek and attempts to hug Yuri goodbye, but the teenager dodges out of the way just in time, rolling his green eyes in annoyance. “Bye! See you in three days!”

“Goodbye, Victor!” Yuuri calls after him before the door shuts. Yuri waves halfheartedly before stalking off to his room, muttering under his breath about how sappy those two are and how disgusting it is. Yuuri just assumes that he’s in a bad mood today.

Truthfully, Yuri hasn’t been feeling very well at all since he woke up. He’s nauseous and his stomach has been cramping all morning-it’s either some sort of a mild stomach bug or a sign of his period coming soon (joy!). Either way, hopefully some sleep will help. He’ll probably wake up in the morning feeling way better.

It only takes a few hours to realize how horribly wrong he is.

Yuri is jolted awake out of a dead sleep by a feeling of overwhelming nausea. He scrambles out of bed, his limbs tangling in the sheets as he attempts to make a mad dash to the bathroom. He doesn’t make it to the toilet in time; instead, he hunches over the sink as his entire frame trembles with a deep gag. Within seconds of being awake he’s heaving up what seems like an endless stream of bile.

He retches and gags for what seems like an eternity before he’s finally empty, reduced to painful dry heaves that scrape out his throat and make his eyes water. His knees buckle and send him crashing to the floor-he can feel cold sweat trickling down his neck as he attempts to get his breathing under control.

The cramping is worse than before; a sharp pain that feels like knives are stabbing into the lower right side of his stomach. He’s aware that something is really wrong, and that he should definitely call for help, but he doesn’t have the energy or the strength to try. Instead, he squeezes his eyes shut against the tears that threaten to fall and breathes shakily, trying to make the pain go away through sheer willpower.

Yuuri can’t believe that it took less than 24 hours for something to go horribly wrong.

A sensation similar to icy fingers making their way up and down his spine has him sitting bolt upright in bed. He squints at the clock, confused when it reads 3:13 AM. Why is he even awake?

There’s an uneasy feeling deep in his gut; something is horribly wrong. Yuuri moves without making any conscious decision about where to go, making his way down the hallway and into the shared bathroom. His unease gets stronger as he pushes open the door. It’s unlocked.

Inside, Yuri is sprawled out on the floor, curled into the fetal position, unconscious, his face pinched with pain. His face is deathly pale and there are dried tear tracks on his face. Yuuri freezes, horrified, until a weak, pained groan from Yuri sets him into action.

Somehow he manages to find his phone and call an ambulance. While he relays the situation to the emergency center, he threads his fingers through Yuri’s hair, squeezing the younger skater’s hand occasionally. Yuri doesn’t respond except to occasionally shift his position or let out a moan of pain.

The ride to the hospital is a blur; Yuuri doesn’t remember much from it besides the original diagnosis of “appendicitis” and the call to the hospital to prep for surgery.

When they arrive at the hospital, Yuri is whisked away for surgery and Yuuri is sent to wait in the waiting room and given a pile of paperwork to fill out. He’s never been so grateful for his Russian lessons that he took in college as he does his best to provide the requested information and sign off wherever signatures are required. One thing is bothering him, though.

“Why does it say that Yuri is female on his medical records?” Yuuri asks the desk attendant, frowning and squinting at the aforementioned files.

She takes the paper and takes a look for herself. “Yuri Plisetsky, is it?” Yuuri nods. “Yes, we’ve been meaning to correct that, but the paperwork must not have gone through yet. I’ll let them know about that,” she says, jotting a note down on a slip of paper. “Is that all?” she asks, looking at Yuuri expectantly.

He hastily nods and steps back to his mountain of forms, hastily scribbling down the last few bits of information that he needed. It makes sense, in a way; Yuri’s resistance to being seen as cute or beautiful, his reluctance to go in the public baths in Hasetsu, and his insistence on being called Yuri instead of Yurio. He feels a pang of guilt and makes a note to himself to only call Yuri by his given name since it bothers him so much. No more Yurio.

After finishing the rest of the paperwork, Yuuri waits around for another hour before a nurse comes out to talk to him. “The surgery was a success,” she announces. “Yuri is in stable condition and resting. He’s doing much better now, and he should be able to go home in a few days.”

“That’s good to hear,” Yuuri sighs in relief. “Can I see him?”

“Of course. I’ll show you to his room. He should be waking up soon.”

Sure enough, within minutes of arriving at Yuri’s hospital room, the teenager is stirring awake with a groan. His green eyes flicker open slowly, darting around the room before finding Yuri. “’m in a hospital?” he asks groggily. Yuuri nods, and he groans in response.

“You were very sick. I called an ambulance and they found that you had appendicitis, and they took you to the hospital to have it removed.”

“I hate hospitals,” Yuri mutters petulantly, sounding a bit more awake now. “When can I get out of this place?” he demands, folding his arms carefully across his chest to avoid tugging on the IV.

“Well the surgery went well and I got all the paperwork filled out, so as long as you rest,” Yuuri explains, emphasizing the word rest. “You should be able to go home in a few days.”

Yuri lets out a huff of displeasure at the “few days” part, but then his eyes widen at something else that Yuuri said. “Y-you filled out my paperwork?” he asks, sounding uncertain.

“I did,” Yuuri says, looking Yuri right in the eyes. This changes nothing, he tries to communicate silently. I still see you the exact same way. “Now, you’d better get some rest. I told Victor about what happened, and he’s going to come home soon as he can. He’s been very worried about his son, you know.” This time, Yuuri puts special emphasis on the word son, hoping that he can get the message across. Judging by the way Yuri’s face softens slightly, he thinks that Yuri got it. “He keeps texting me for updates.”

“That geezer is not my father,” Yuri complains, a hint of a smile forming on his lips before he ducks behind his long blonde bangs, embarrassed. “And I’m bored! Can’t I at least watch TV or something?”

Yuri is going to be just fine.

[itbeajen]

Agape [5] | Yuri Plisetsky | Witch!AU

Witch!AU Warning: Character Death I can finally bring this back now

Something is wrong. Ela stopped in his tracks, his head raised back towards the clearing before the lake. You followed his gaze, but a flurry of snow met your view and you asked, "What is it? Can you tell?"

Ela's eyes flashed momentarily and he took a whiff of the air, Two Witch Hunters.. and a Cultist. He growled, No... not a cultist. Someone has attempted to mimic your traces.

"Me?" you responded, eyes wide in fear. He nods and muttered, I will take you to the lake, but I'll go back to check. But for now... He pauses and lets loose a sound breaking howl. The snow stopped momentarily, as though relenting to the power that Ela hones within him and a chorus of responses raises in the forest. Various creatures appear before you and Ela, and your eyes widened upon realizing each and every one of them were all enchanted.

As this generation's protector, I shall ask you all of one thing. Ela lowly growled, he takes another whiff of the air and he shakes his muzzle, as though dispelling it. Do not let them taint our sanctuary any further. Do not allow them to hurt those dear to us any further. And most importantly, Ela glances back at you and he howled, Let us fulfill the prophecy we have protected since the beginning of our time.

There was a chorus of agreement as each animal supported Ela's short speech. With commands being scattered throughout the ranks, they all split up, forming interspecies groups or same species groups. They scattered and you mumbled, "You're pretty cool when you can be, Ela."

Why thanks Mistress! Ela made a sound akin to laughter and then paused and hummed, Wait, are you saying I'm not cool normally? That's rude, Mistress!

"That is not Soleil," Otabek noted as he dodged yet another eruption of ice. Him and Yuri were back in the edge of the forests and Yuri narrowed his eyes, "It sure smells like her." Otabek raised an eyebrow, "And you would know?" "Look, witches have a distinct scent, she smells like Soleil," Yuri snapped and then muttered, "This is a pain. I know we've hit her twice already in two vital spots, but she's shown no signs of slowing down." "Yura," Otabek calmly calls his name. The young blonde glances over and the former continued, "I'll play decoy." "What?! No, Beka, Chris told us to bring her back alive. You know what playing decoy means!" "I think it'll be okay," Otabek reassures him and Yuri reluctantly nods his head and growled, "But if anything happens, we're pulling you out, do you hear me?" "Of course," Otabek gives him a small smile before dashing forward. He pulls out his sword, his hand gently, yet expertly and swiftly runs over the runes on the blade. An eerie deep violet erupts from the blade as an illusion of flames and the male leaps forward, out of the protection of the forest and into the clearing. Your impersonator turned too slowly, but barely makes it in time to raise an impromptu shield before stumbling backward from the force of the impact. She gets up slowly, her head twitching slightly back and forth before another disgusting smile warps her features. "You're so mean, Atlin," her voice comes out distorted, as though coming from various different vents and she continued, "Don't you know you shouldn't be too rough when playing with girls?" She raises her hand, and the snow and ice follows her each and every command, striking, piercing, and blinding the Witch Hunter. But Otabek manages to dodge them all, swiftly reading each spike in magic intensity and pinpointing their location, allowing him to dodge them expertly. He parries one particular strike before breaking through it. But he noticed something was off. Yura was right about the scent, but this magic intensity isn't strong enough to be [F/N]'s... Otabek flips away before swiftly pulling out a dagger. He mutters a quick enchantment before accurately aiming it at your impersonator. He hears a guttural cry erupt from your throat as the dagger seeps into it. It cries out in pain and Yuri smirked. Good job, Beka. Now for the finishing blow. Yuri takes aim with his sniper rifle, and as soon as he locked on he muttered, "Discutio1!" He flinches at the ricochet of the shot and Otabek raises his arm to block the impact of snow and storm as the bullet pierces through. The screams that filled the air makes him flinch, but it doesn't register to him that part of the screams were coming from him until he hears Yuri's panicked voice. "BEKA!!!" Otabek glances down, his eyes widening in shock and horror when he sees an open gash and streams of blood slowly leaving him. Your impersonator is nothing, but an empty shell as it stumbled towards him and it muttered, "If.. I die... I will bring.. you with me," it smiled and howled in maniacal laughter, "The Sorcerer shall rise, and you.." it points a shaky finger at Yuri, "And you shall come to realize what true horror is." It falls into snow, and slowly dissipates into nothing but black and purple smoke. Yuri stumbles forward before breaking into a sprint, Otabek's name leaving his lips in horror as his best friend almost slumps forward. "Beka! BEKA!" Yuri's holding onto him and Otabek coughed, blood leaving his lips as he presses weakly against his gaping wound. "Yuratchka.." his voice was weak, and Otabek doesn't remember the last time he ever felt so lifeless. He tries to look at Yuri, but he can't see past the watery veil before him. His best friend looked like nothing more than a blur of blonde with two sparkling gems. "I.. am sorry." "No," Yuri sobbed, "Don't you fucking dare, Beka. WE MADE A PROMISE!" Otabek weakly smiled, "It seems as though... I broke one, and kept the other." "What are you talking about?!" Yuri cried out in pain as he slowly watched his best friend lose life by the second. Yuri places his hand over Otabek's, a futile attempt to stop the blood from leaving its host. Otabek sighed, "Do you remember.. [F/N]?" "This isn't the time for that Beka! We need to get you back to town. I need to- We- I can't let you- YOU'RE NOT LEAVING US, DO YOU HEAR ME?!" Yuri shouted and Otabek softly muttered, "She would be sad.. to see us like this." Yuri's tears streamed down his face and slowly fall onto Otabek's. The older male gently smiled and admitted, "I always wanted us... to reunite again," he coughed, and Yuri shakes his head, "Don't. Beka, save your strength, please." "Under better circumstances," Otabek sighed as he feels your presence slowly approaching. I suppose the rumors are true that when you lose the ability of certain senses, the remaining ones are heightened. Yuri chokes back a sob and mumbled, "Don't leave." Otabek winced as he tries to speak, and with whatever willpower he has left he muttered, "Yura... [F/N] is still alive." Yuri's eyes opened in a flash, wide and shaking with disbelief, "What are you-" "You need to remember," Otabek shuddered, and struggled, "You need to remember. Try to... And please, forgive her." "For.. give... her?" Yuri manages to choke out and he weakly cried, "I don't understand. Are you saying Soleil is [F/N]? We just killed her, and she- to you- How the fuck am I-" None of his questions are answered though as he feels Otabek growing weaker and weaker in his arms. Yuri held him closer and sobbed, "Beka, you can't leave me. What am I supposed to tell Katsudon and Chris?! What am I supposed to say to-" "Yuri.." Otabek gives him a weak smile and with his free hand, gently touches the pendant that dangled around his neck. "If only I was able to keep that promise with you." "OTABEK ATLIN," Yuri's voice rose, the anguish was unheard and Otabek weakly manages to shake his head, "Stop this never ending nightmare." "How- Beka," Yuri finally succumbed to his rising emotions, the tears that he tried to hold back freely flowing and he muttered, "How do you expect me to do any of this? I don't even remember why anymore..." "You.. will," Otabek softly whispered, his voice leaving him as his strength is slowly drained, "Just please.. when you come across [F/N], and please.. forgive her." "Be...ka?" Yuri asked hesitantly as he finally opened his eyes to look at his dear friend. The warm brown orbs that were once filled with mirth and life were dull and empty now. His arms laid limp beside him and his head lolled back in Yuri's arms. The blonde hesitantly closed his friend's eyelids, bringing him to peace before gently settling him into the snow. His entire body shook as sob after sob racked his entire being. There is a soft padding of feet and Ela appears in his smaller form, and he skids to a stop upon seeing the two Witch Hunters. Yuri doesn't even notice the wolf and Ela sat there, far from them. Otabek Atlin was a true warrior, Ela let out a small howl, surprising Yuri. The blonde weakly grabbed his gun and Ela swished his tail, I am not your enemy, Yuri Plisetsky, descendant of the Hunter from the tales of the old. "You..." Yuri's voice cracked, "What are you?" How does he know? I am but a mere wolf, and, of course, the Mistress' humble servant. What will you do now, Yuri Plisetsky? Ela asked. His ear twitched forward slightly, Depending on his answer, I will decide whether or not to comply to the Mistress' wishes... but she purposely asked for me to help them, but... Ela's arctic blue orbs landed on Otabek and he feels remorse shake his small figure. I had told Mistress I would help them... and yet, I was not fast enough. Even though she had already predicted that there would be a loss of a life... Yuri roughly wipes his tears away and he muttered, "I am going to defeat the Sorcerer. With or without the help of that blasted White Witch." I don't need Soleil. I'll defeat the Sorcerer. I'll find [F/N]. Is that so? Ela almost growled at the way Yuri had referred to you, but he refrains from doing so and muttered, Cheeky brat. Yuri immediately glared at the wolf and hissed, "What was that?" I said you're a cheeky brat. Ela flicked his tail as he warily watched Yuri lower into a fighting stance, You're a few hundred years too early to challenge me. You don't even know how to use your pendant. For. Shame. Yuri glanced down at his pendant, a part of it was slightly more vibrant now. Sparks and flashes of blue swirled in the dull sea, and he narrowed his eyes at it. But before he can question it, the wolf breaks his concentration as it glances over to Otabek and muttered, What will you do with him? "He- Beka, is.." Yuri couldn't respond. I can't leave Beka here... but if I don't go, will I lose the opportunity? What if this is the chance for me to stop the Sorcerer? Yuri's grip on his gun tightened and he shut his eyes. But I can't leave Beka here, if something happens... What am I supposed to do? Make up your mind already, Ela sighed as he sat down on his haunches. The shade of blue of Ela's eyes made Yuri frown and he muttered to himself, "Why do your eyes feel so familiar?" Hey hey, I've never met you, so I wouldn't know. But I take whatever eye color my Mistress has, so whatever. Ela barked and then scratched his ear, You should make up your mind though. Or you'll lose time. He's right. Yuri frowned. This blasted mutt is right. But... I can't take Beka to safety and- Just leave him to me, the wolf grunted. Ela made a soft howl, almost as though he was softly cooing, and from the woods appears an enchanted polar bear with its cubs. Yuri is immediately on guard and Ela rumbled, They will see to it that your friend is protected until you come back. You have our words as the guardians of this forest. Now then... will you accept my offering of help or will you flounder your way to victory? Yuri took one last glance at Otabek before gently taking his best friend's sword and sheathing it. He expertly attaches it to his own belt before nodding at the limp form. I'll be back Beka... and hopefully I'll end it. This war. Yuri turns away, tears still pricking at the corners of his eyes, but he roughly wipes it away before nodding at the canine. Ela reverts to his original form, now much larger and big enough for Yuri to ride on. He approaches the blonde and lowers his haunches, I will take you to where the Sorcerer is sealed, but from that point onward, only the two of you shall be able to control your fates. Ela makes a huff when Yuri gets on and mutters, And this is why I dislike giving rides to males. You're all too heavy.

If... Yuri closed his eyes as he focused on the pendant. If that was really Soleil back there... or maybe even a part of her, doesn't that mean I'd be fighting against Soleil...? Chris said the White Witch is [F/N]... what if it's the same [F/N] that I've been searching for... Yuri grumbled as he mulled over his thoughts, But I can't remember anything... What's on your mind, kiddo? Ela barked as he continued to sprint over the the surface of the lake. Yuri frowned and muttered, "None of your business mutt. I don't- WOAH." Ela skids to a stop and growls at him, Watch your tongue you mortal. Ela's eyes flashed red momentarily, and Yuri flinched, I'm only helping you because you're the Hunter. I don't know what that entails, but Mistress has repeatedly vouched for your worth.. However, Ela drawled the last word, If I deem you unfit for your role, or a threat to my Mistress, I will end you. Is that understood? Yuri's moment of fear is assuaged, but is now replaced with anger and he growled, "Mistress this. White Witch that. Do you have any idea how much suffering that blasted legend has put me through?!" Ela watched him calmly, no surprise or emotion shown on the wolf's feature, and Yuri continued, "I've spent my entire life searching for my one friend. The one who forced me to leave her behind on the night that the Nameless Town was attacked. I don't even fucking know if she's alive or not, and when I'm suddenly assigned to a new location, guess what," Yuri pauses momentarily before he hissed, "my childhood friend shares the same damn name as the White Witch!" Yuri panted from his outburst and Ela's eyes narrowed and asked, Do you know nothing of your memory of her beside her name? "I don't!" Yuri shouted and then weakly admitted, "I don't remember anything but her name." I see. Ela thought as he picked up the pace again, this time not at break neck speed. So this is the person she was trying to protect.. Mistress erased herself from her own Hunter's memories.. I wonder why. Ela lets out a small bark, calling Yuri back to attention and asked, What will you do? If they are one and the same? "I..." Yuri hesitated and his grip on Ela's fur tightened, although the wolf doesn't notice it himself. Yuri bit his lower lip in thought. What will I do? If [F/N]'s the White Witch...? I... I don't have answers to any of the questions I need answers to. I just... wanted to save her. I just want to end this stupid war and defeat the Sorcerer. That's all I want. No correct answer, huh, Ela huffed and in what sounded like a warning growl, But I suppose I have no role in this other than to keep the Mistress safe until the correct time. I absolutely... He paused, his ears flicking slightly, All I want is the Mistress to be happy, but I suppose I would be stepping out of the line of duty. "Tell me... is your Mistress the White Witch?" Yuri hesitatingly asked. In what sounded like laughter, Yuri is shocked out of his state of hesitation and Ela responded, It doesn't matter what she is. My Mistress is just [F/N], but perhaps she is. Perhaps she isn't. For all I know, that child could be the same one you've been looking for. "[F/N]..." Yuri muttered, his grip on his pendant growing tighter. "I can only hope they're not the same." Because I'm not sure if I can control my anger towards the White Witch.. or the Sorcerer.

[witharthurkirkland]

Interview Me

Summary: Yuuri Katsuki, one of the world’s top skaters is very popular with the readers of Runway, so one day the editor, Victor Nikiforov, decides to interview him for his magazine. Personally.

Part 1 of 2 of the swap of Yuuris between my fics Bad Apple and The Devil Wears Gucci, but can be read without reading either of those fics.

Read it here or on ao3.

Yuri was at the end of his rope. He went through various curses in his head, but they all fell short of expressing his frustration. Just his luck that not only was it the busiest time of the year, but Victor recently fired his second assistant, leaving him to pull the weight of two people. And now some figure skater was coming that Victor insisted on interviewing for the next issue.

A figure skater!

Yuri rubbed his temples with his fingers. It was going to be another one of those days.

The door swung open and a young man barged in. He had an attitude that could be seen a mile off. He stopped at Yuri’s desk and towered over him.

“I’m here for my interview,” he said and rolled his eyes. “Although, I’m still not sure why I bothered.”

Yuri sat up straight and gave him a withering look that was meant to show that there was no way he was going to be intimidated by a man in a leather jacket with the air of a delinquent. He was a respectable office worker and could deal with any crisis while still keeping his cool.

“If you can please wait, I will go and tell the editor you’re here.”

The skater found a wall to lean against. He smirked at Yuri. “Run along, kid.”

“I-I’m not --!” he started to protest.

“Oh, don’t get your feathers all ruffled. Just tell the organ grinder that I’m here and go finish filing your nails, or whatever it is you monkeys do around here.”

Yuri glared at him and marched into Victor’s office.

 Victor Nikiforov looked up from the stack of magazines on his desk and watched Yuri walk in with an unamused expression on his face. What was it now? How could he work with these constant interruptions?

“That skater is here,” Yuri said, “the one you wanted to interview.”

Two issues ago someone ran a celebrity popularity poll to see who was the most popular one with their viewers. To everyone’s surprise, the winner was a figure skater. There was nothing left to do but to invite and interview him.

Victor decided he would conduct the interview himself.

He didn’t know anything about figure skating. He didn’t even know what this figure skater looked like. He lowered his eyes and read his name off the piece of paper on his desk provided by his assistant earlier that day.

Yuuri Katsuki.

“He can come in,” Victor said.

Yuuri walked in like he owned the place. Victor stared, unable to stop himself. It was no wonder he was so popular! He was, well, he was exactly like the old cliché: tall, dark and handsome. He had that bad boy look that, while being slightly old-fashioned, never really went out of style (at least in Victor Nikiforov’s book). If his figure skating was as good as… He stopped that thought before it could get into dangerous territory.

This was going to be a strictly professional interview.

“Good morning, Mr. Katsuki.”

“Just call me Yuuri,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Mr. Katsuki is my dad.”

“Then you can call me Victor.” He stood up and held out his hand.

Yuuri stared at it and then dropped into the chair on the other side of his desk. He raised his feet and put them on the stack of magazines Victor had been reading earlier.

Victor gave his feet a pointed look, but Yuuri didn’t even bat an eyelid.

“Can you take your feet off my desk?”

“If you insist.” Yuuri lowered his feet. “Okay, what is this really about?”

“Didn’t you read the letter? I want to interview you.”

“Why?”

“You are really popular with our viewers, so we wanted to do a piece about…”

Yuuri snorted. “That’s it? Your assistant called my coach in the middle of the night, got into a big fight with him (nice one there, by the way: he’s still sulking), booked me a flight and hotel and then got me over here for an interview? And you expect me to believe that?”

“We take things seriously here at Runway.”

“That’s one way of saying it.”

“Do you agree to an interview, then?” He wasn’t going to surrender no matter what.

Yuuri reclined in the seat and put his hands behind his head. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“Actually, I thought we could talk over lunch.”

The skater gave him a suspicious look. “Lunch?”

“Yes,” Victor answered. “Is there a problem?”

“No, but this is starting to sound like a date.”

“An interview over lunch sounds like a date?” It took all of Victor’s willpower to keep his voice steady, but he wasn’t going to back down no matter what.

“I’m not stupid,” the skater said and leaned forward. “I saw the way you looked at me when I came in.”

Victor cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is strictly an interview for the magazine.”

“Sure.” Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Fly me halfway across the globe for an interview.”

“Do you have something against interviews? Or,” Victor went on, warming up to his subject, “maybe you’re afraid that this will be a date?”

Yuuri gave him a cold look and for the first time in his life Victor was genuinely terrified. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

And Victor believed that.

Yuuri stood up. “Alright. I accept your definitely-an-interview-and-not-a-date lunch.”

“O-or,” Victor cursed himself mentally that his voice shook at just the wrong moment, “we could meet for dinner.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows.

“I have a pressing deadline and would be very grateful if we could move the interview to dinner time.”

Yuuri didn’t even stop to consider. “Only if you’re paying.”

“Of course,” Victor smiled.

Yuuri rose to his feet and left.

Victor stared after him in amazement, glad there was no one to see the expression on his face. Holy crap! What was that? Too late he realized he forgot to settle on a time and called his assistant in to sort that out.

 Yuuri arrived fifteen minutes late and found Victor pretending to read a magazine to hide his embarrassment. Victor raised his eyes and his gaze swept over Yuuri. He was still wearing the same clothes as that morning, but for the first time in Victor’s life that didn’t matter.

Yuuri, on his part, was taking in Victor’s appearance. He rolled his eyes. “You didn’t have to change your clothes!”

Victor stood up and smiled in a way that always made his dates blush and stumble over their words. It didn’t even faze Yuuri. “Of course I did. Are you ready?”

“And what would you do, if I said no?”

“There’s a Wardrobe here, if you want –”

“Hell, no!” Yuuri turned away and made for the door. “I’m not a little doll for you to play dress-up with. And I’m certainly not one of your models.”

“You could be. Don’t some skaters do modelling work on the side?”

For some reason this question made Yuuri chuckle. “Oh they’re doing something on the side. I wouldn’t call it modelling, though.”

Victor nodded knowingly. It sounded like skaters led very interesting lives. Much more interesting than his, he realized with a pang and then did his best to suppress the thought.

Yuri was still at his desk when they walked past him.

“Have you found any likely candidates yet?” Victor asked, not even stopping.

“Yes, Victor,” Yuri said.

“Good. I will review them tomorrow.” He continued walking towards the elevator and Yuuri followed.

“Candidates for what?”

“I need a second assistant,” Victor told him.

“What do you need two assistants for? Do the two assistants take turns waiting on you or something?”

“There are always many errands to run.”

Yuuri snorted. “Can’t you fetch your own coffee, Princess?”

Victor gave him an affronted look. “I’m too busy.”

“So you buy yourself a slave.”

They stood in the elevator as it headed for the ground floor. Victor tried not to think about how small the elevator was.

“My assistants aren’t slaves,” Victor protested.

“That’s what you think.”

“We do a serious job here at Runway. It’s a job that a million people will kill for and everyone here knows how lucky they are to be here.”

“Living the dream? I’ve seen those neurotic anorexics of yours run around.” Yuuri snorted. “Does anyone here ever explode from the stress?”

Victor didn’t dignify that question with a response. This amused Yuuri even more.

They left the building and the cold spring air made Victor give an involuntary shudder.

“So where is this place?” Yuuri asked in a tone of voice that suggested that he didn’t actually care.

“My driver will take us.” He waved at his car.

“You’re kidding!” Yuuri burst out laughing. “Pink?”

“Do you have a problem with pink?”

“I was wrong. You’re not a princess. You’re Barbie!” He raised Victor’s hand, laying it flat over his own with the fingers splayed out so he could study them. “Look, you’ve got manicured nails,” he looked into Victor’s face, “and you’re even wearing makeup!” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not made out of plastic, are you?”

Victor snatched his hand away and straightened up indignantly. “I’ve never had plastic surgery!”

“That’s not what I meant.” Yuuri turned away and headed back for the building. “I’ll keep it in mind, though.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m not riding in that!” he exclaimed, indicating the car with his thumb.

“B-but –”

“Luckily, I brought my own ride.” Yuuri pointed and Victor noticed the motorcycle standing by the road. “I left the helmets with security.”

“I-I’m not riding a motorcycle!” Victor protested. “It will mess – I-I mean: it’s not safe!”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows. “Worried it will mess up your hair? Oh boo hoo, Princess! I’m sure you can get your stylists to run over there and fix it. Don’t you always have stylists on standby in case you break a nail, or something?”

“I’ll have you know –”

“Yes, Princess?”

Victor closed his mouth and took in the expression on Yuuri’s face. Yuuri smirked and went back inside the Elias-Clarke building.

 They were on their way there when Yuuri pulled over. “Okay, I’ve had enough. Just admit it: you have no idea where it is,” he said.

Up until this point, he’d been following Victor’s instructions. It didn’t take him long to work out that they were going in circles around the same block. In fact, it took Yuuri exactly one trip around the block.

“I know where it is!” Victor argued.

“What’s it called?” Yuuri pulled out his phone.

“I said I know where it is!”

“Is it some kind of secret?” Yuuri went on, unwilling to back down.

Victor gave in and told him.

Yuuri punched the name into his phone and then stuck it in the top pocket of his jacket. A voice told him to make a U-turn and go the other way. “Ready, Princess?”

“Can you not call me that?”

“Does it offend you?”

“Yes!” Victor exclaimed. “I-I mean: no,” he corrected himself. If I say ‘yes’, then he will keep doing it to annoy me, but if I say ‘no’ maybe he’ll stop. I know how his kind thinks.

“I can keep using it, then,” Yuuri said. “Alright, hang on tight, Princess.”

Victor grabbed Yuuri around the waist, cursing everything. He felt like he could fall off any minute, no matter how tightly he hung on. Yuuri’s good looks didn’t make up for this situation in the slightest.

After several turns, just as they were getting close to their destination Yuuri chuckled.

“What so funny?” Victor demanded, certain he was going to be the butt of the joke yet again.

“We barely know each other and already you’re using this opportunity to feel me up,” Yuuri answered.

Victor slid his hands back down to Yuuri’s waist. He only wanted to find a more comfortable way to hold on to his driver.

“You don’t have to stop,” Yuuri laughed. “I was actually enjoying it.”

“I was only trying to find a more comfortable way to –” Victor protested. It was a blessing he was wearing a helmet and sitting behind Yuuri so that the skater couldn’t see the blush in his cheeks.

“Running your hands over my chest makes you more comfortable? The fashion industry is much more exciting than I thought!” He laughed again.

“I’ll have you know that the fashion industry is very interesting and important!” Victor exclaimed, feeling as if his own pride was wounded in some way.

“Oh yes: what colour will you wear today? Red or blue? If you wear the wrong colour then empires will fall! And we’ll get into another war!” Where did Yuuri get all his sarcasm from? It never seemed to run out! And Victor really wanted to make him run out.

“Fashion is an art!” Victor began. “People live their whole lives –”

“I’ll bet they do! Anyway, save your promotional speech for someone who cares: we’re there.” He went around to find a parking spot and then they both climbed off.

Yuuri carried both their helmets as they walked into the restaurant and handed it to the first member of staff he saw with a thinly veiled threat promising something unpleasant should anything happen to them. The first thing Victor did, on the other hand, when they came in was to head for a mirror to try and fix the damage the helmet had done to his hairstyle.

“No stylists on standby?” Yuuri asked. “You can use mine.” He pulled a comb out of the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to Victor.

Victor eyed it and then Yuuri’s jelled-back hair. “I don’t need it,” he said, turning back to the mirror.

Yuuri swept one hand over his head and smirked, apparently satisfied with the results. Victor watched his reflection out of the corner of his eye as he tried to fix his own hair.

“I’m ready,” he said at last.

“Hold on.” Yuuri reached out and ruffled Victor’s hair. “Much better.” He turned around and, ignoring Victor’s exclamation, went to ask about their table.

Victor turned back to the mirror with an exasperated sigh. The conversation at the front desk carried over to him as he tried to undo the effect of Yuuri’s actions.

“Hello! I think Princess made a reservation for the two of us,” Yuuri said.

“P-princess?” a terrified-looking maître d’ spluttered out. I bet he’d never had a customer like Yuuri. The poor man probably doesn’t know what to do.

Yuuri laughed. “I meant Victor Nikiforov. He’s over there, trying to get every strand of hair in the right place.”

The maître d’ stuttered, cleared his throat and said in a voice that was shaking only a little bit, “I’ll just check – I mean, Victor Nikiforov, yes, of course! Your table is over this way!”

Victor sighed. It was no good. His hair was still all wrong.

“Come on, Princess!” Yuuri called. “Our table is ready. Don’t worry about your hair: it looks better the way it is now.”

Victor walked over in as dignified a way as he could. How do I stop him mocking me? I feel ridiculous! He took a seat at the table and tried his best to stop thinking about his messed up hair.

“Is this where you take everyone on their first date?” Yuuri asked.

“It’s classy,” Victor said defensively.

“Sure. If you’re old and rich.”

I can’t lose to him! I refuse to do it! “Fine. Where would you take someone on their first date?”

Yuuri gave this question some consideration. “Depends on who they are, I suppose. Someone like you I’d take to a burger joint with the greasiest food in the shadiest part of town.” Victor shuddered. “You would eat with the commoners there, the peasants.” Yuuri leaned forward against the table. “Where it’s packed with stinky, dirty people who are underfed and underpaid. This big buff guy sits down next to you and you’re sitting there trembling like… like you’re doing now, in fact, trying hard not to wet your pants and all you can think is ‘dear God, don’t let him rob or kill me’.”

Victor’s mouth hung open. “And?” he asked quietly.

“And all he wants is for you to pass the ketchup, or something.” Yuuri sat back. “He’s probably a nice guy with a wife and four kids at home.”

Victor breathed out and adjusted his tie. He brushed himself off, as if trying to get rid of the stench and dirt of that imaginary place. “And you’d take me to a place like that? Why?”

“Because you look like someone who needs to get a right smack over the ears.” Yuuri grinned. “Or just accidentally elbowed in the face.”

“Hmph!” Victor straightened up. “Well, I don’t think… That’s not appealing at all.”

“Oh really? I’m sure you’ll be over the moon when your date whisks you away somewhere clean, or just into the fresh air.” Yuuri leaned forward again. “And I’ll just bet there’ll be some hot, steamy sex to follow.”

Victor’s face turned red and he coughed nervously. He pulled out his signature handkerchief, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I-I don’t think…”

“And I expect a rich bastard like you has a really odd kink.” Yuuri studied Victor thoughtfully. “Definitely, because where’s the fun in doing things the normal way?”

Victor tucked his handkerchief back into his pocket. His heart was beating fast. He’d never been talked to this way before! “And then what?”

“Oh,” Yuuri waved his hand dismissively. “I expect that you’ll wake up the morning after all flustered because your hair is a mess and you’re not dressed as fashionably as the night before (or just not dressed at all, ha), or…” Yuuri paused. There was a dark smile on his face.

“Or?” Victor whispered.

“Or your date woke up before you and walked out on your selfish –”

“May I take your order?” the waiter cut in with impeccable timing.

Victor pretended to study the menu with a serious expression on his face. “I’ll have you know,” he said to Yuuri, “that my dates have always been satisfied with me.”

“Have they? Or were they too terrified of you to say anything?”

“Should I come back?” the waiter asked, visibly uncomfortable with being an accidental witness to their conversation.

“No,” Victor said. “I’m ready to order. I always know what I want.”

Yuuri picked up a fork and fiddled with it absent-mindedly. “When was the last time someone said ‘no’ to you, Princess?”

“Everyone always does what I tell them,” he retorted. It wasn’t strictly true, but arguments with Yakov that ended in Victor winning didn’t count.

“That long, huh?”

The waiter looked ready to make a run for it.

Victor smiled politely at him. “We’ll take the –”

“No,” Yuuri interrupted. “Do you serve steak or is that too fancy for a stuck up place like this?”

The waiter eyed him as if he’d been personally offended. “Of course!”

“I’ll have it rare and the Princess here will…” Yuuri paused and studied Victor, “…take it medium done.”

“Yuuri –” Victor began.

“Well done, then. Do you think you can manage that?”

The waiter nodded, took their menus and left.

“When was the last time someone said ‘no’ to you?” Yuuri repeated his question.

Victor smiled. “Ten seconds ago.” He reached out and took Yuuri’s hand with both of his. He hesitated for only a second before raising it to his lips. He was determined to have the last word. He’d get a blush out of Yuuri before the evening was done!

“A bit old fashioned, don’t you think?” Yuuri pulled his hand away just as the waiter showed up with the breadbasket.

Yuuri watched Victor take a piece of bread, cover it with butter and put it in his mouth. Under the table he reached out with his foot and slid it up against Victor’s.

Victor choked on his bread. Yuuri burst out laughing.

“A-are you trying to…” Victor stammered out and then coughed and coughed until he managed to clear his throat. “What was that?”

“Just trying to demonstrate something more modern. I forgot this was an interview and not a date.” Yuuri cast a look around the room and returned his attention to Victor. “Are you going to publish all of this in your magazine?”

Victor realized he’d let himself get carried away and completely forgot about the reason for their meeting. “R-right. I have a few questions here.” He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his inside pocket. Yuri had prepared them for him earlier.

Yuuri snatched it out of his hand and studied it. “Just as I thought: really standard stuff. Do you ever get tired of being so boring and predictable?”

He folded the paper up and stuck it in his own pocket.

Victor suppressed the urge to demand that Yuuri gave the paper back. What was the first question on the list? Oh, yes. “How did you get into figure skating?”

“An angel descended from the skies and said ‘don’t be an idiot. Don’t go into the fashion industry. They’re all blockheads. Go become a chef.’ So I became a figure skater.”

Victor gave an exasperated sigh. “You agreed to an interview. Can you answer my questions seriously?”

“All of these questions,” Yuuri pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket and waved it in front of Victor’s face, “can be answered with a simple Google search.” He handed the paper back to Victor. “I thought you’d ask me something more interesting.”

Victor imagined writing the article. I dined with Yuuri Katsuki, the living legend of figure skating, and got to know the man as he really is. He doesn’t tolerate nonsense and is always straightforward and honest to the point of sounding harsh. Yuuri Katsuki would hate an article written like that. Maybe he’d write it after all.

“Normally I’d hold someone like you hostage for money,” Yuuri said, “and milk you for every penny you own.” He shrugged. “I know I’m a bastard, but,” he leaned forward again, “at least I’m not a slave driver and I don’t pretend that I’m doing everyone a great service by existing, or hide terrible things behind polite terms.”

Victor calmed himself by imaging what else he could put in the article. He lowered his eyes and stared at his fingers. The expressions on Yuuri’s face were making it hard to focus on any one thought for a long time.

“It’s lucky for you I have a weakness for beautiful things.” Yuuri rested his chin on his hand and there was that smirk again. “And that includes editors with sticks up their backsides.”

Victor said nothing. What could he say to a remark like that?

The waiter came to his rescue by arriving with their food. He placed one plate in front of Victor and the second one – in front of Yuuri.

Yuuri laughed, taking in the small steak in the middle of the big plate. “What’s this? Did they run out of steak? Or is this the last steak left on Earth?”

Victor said nothing. Obviously Yuuri knew nothing about food served in fashionable restaurants. He picked up his fork and knife and cut a piece off.

Yuuri swung out his arm and knocked the fork out of Victor’s hand. “Don’t touch it!” He grabbed the waiter by the wrist. “What is that smell?”

“Sir! What are you talking about?” The waiter’s eyes were rolling around in their sockets in alarm.

“Smell these steaks. What do they smell like?”

“Really, sir…” Yuuri squeezed the waiter’s hand. “Please, sir, it’s…”

“Well?”

“Poison.” The waiter admitted and squeezed his eyes shut.

Yuuri whipped a gun out of his pocket and shot the waiter. Then he jumped out of his seat and grabbed Victor’s arm. “Take your things and let’s go!”

“You killed him!”

“He was going to kill us! Come on, let’s go!”

Victor snatched up his things and the two of them ran. Yuuri had enough presence of mind to retrieve their helmets before they were out on the street and back on the motorcycle.

“Ready?”

“You killed him! You actually killed him! Why do you have a gun?” Too late Victor realized that maybe the correct course of action was to run away from Yuuri, instead of running with him.

“Give the boy a prize. Yes, excellent observation skills, Sherlock Holmes. Now get on the bike and let’s go!”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Victor backed away.

Yuuri sighed. “Fine. Go back in there. I’m sure dying from a bullet is better than dying from poison and since I just made that choice for both of us, bullets is what they’re going to try next.”

There were screams coming inside the restaurant. Victor rushed to Yuuri’s side. “Fine. Have it your way.”

Yuuri got on the bike and Victor climbed on behind him.

“You’re taking all this in your stride,” Victor noticed. “Are people always trying to kill you? And who were they?”

“Yes. And no I don’t always know who is behind it.” Yuuri put his helmet on. “Shockingly when people are shooting at me I don’t have time to stop and ask for their business cards. Tell you what, Princess, next time someone shoots at us you can ask for their business card.” He grabbed the handles of his bike and added, “Hold on tight.”

Victor clung on as they sped off. Yuuri made several sharp turns and ran a few red lights. Oh my God! He’s going over the speed limit! We’re going to die! I can’t believe it! I’m going to die on a motorcycle!

“Where is your castle, Princess?” Yuuri asked.

“What? …Fifth Avenue.” He was too terrified to be able to remember his exact address. Any longer on the bike and he would probably forget what his name was.

“Of course it is.”

They went for another hour. Yuuri doubled back several times, but no one seemed to be chasing them. He turned onto Fifth Avenue and narrowly avoided an expensive car.

Finally Yuuri stopped, but Victor felt like they were still going. The world was still flashing by and going around. It felt like… “I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster,” he mumbled, pulling his helmet off and begging the world to stop spinning.

“That was nothing,” Yuuri said, pulling off his own helmet. Then, without any warning whatsoever, he turned around and kissed him. Victor felt Yuuri’s tongue in his mouth and put one hand on Yuuri’s shoulder to steady himself.

Yuuri was right: that motorcycle ride had been nothing. His head was really spinning now, but he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

He broke the kiss and smiled as if it was no big deal, as if he was used to handsome men taking him around town on their motorcycles and leaving tastes of themselves in his mouth. “Do you kiss everyone on your first date?”

“I thought this was an interview and not a date.”

Victor climbed off the motorcycle and tried to laugh it off. “You’re right. It was an interview. Not a date.” Something inside him protested at this, but he ignored it. He focused on not falling over instead, still feeling slightly dizzy after the ride.

Yuuri took the helmet out of Victor’s hands. “Call me sometime. If you can find room in that busy schedule of yours.” There was that smirk on his face again. “And maybe I’ll take you on an actual date.”

Victor put his hands in his pockets. “I might,” he said and tried not to think about Yuuri’s description of a date.

Yuuri reached out and snatched the handkerchief Victor kept in his breast pocket. He wiped his face with it and tossed it back to Victor who struggled to catch it before it could fall on the ground. “See you around, Princess!” he exclaimed and put his helmet back on.

With a loud revving noise he was off, leaving Victor to stare after him. “See you… around.”

He held the handkerchief to his face, taking in the smell that lingered there. Maybe he should look into figure skating. He’d always thought it was an interesting sport. He would need to get Yuri to find out when the next competition was and buy him tickets.

Satisfied with that, he tucked his handkerchief back into his pocket and headed home.

[kumikirin]

Close your eyes (and I’ll kiss you)

Otayuri Week 2017, Day 4: Domestic or Long Distance

Long distance relationships are never easy, ask Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin about it. But they’ve learned to make the best out of their situation, and they manage to keep it together while waiting for the next time they’re able to see, hold and kiss each other.

Or: the lives of Yuri and Otabek as a long-distance couple, and their strategies to survive the long months between one visit and the next.

Warning(s): Brief mentions of blood (just a couple accidental cuts). Non-explicit sex. A little Hurt/Comfort, a lot of fluff bc it’s me.

Notes: Yes, the title comes from the song All My Loving, by The Beatles. It's perfect for this fic, leave me alone. Prepare for the cheesiest thing ever. Cross-posted in AO3! Beta-ed by the lovely @dinxyjinxy who totally saved me and I’ll be forever thankful, tysm again!  ♥  ♥  ♥

“It’s not too late, you can still go back home with me,” Yuri mutters, grabbing onto Otabek’s sleeve, “You know grandpa wouldn’t have a problem if you suddenly decided to stay with us for a month or a year or forever.”

Otabek can’t help the half smile that tugs at the right corner of his mouth at Yuri’s words. It’s always like this when they have to part, they never want to and one of them —usually Yuri— ends up saying something along those lines. It’s some kind of hopeful attempt to keep the other close, and even if it never works and they really don’t expect it to, they keep on trying, in a sort of joking-but-not-really kind of way. Like they hope this time they will be able to make it happen. Deep down, really, they know that when the time comes for one to leave it’s because it’s absolutely necessary, as they always make sure to make the most out of every opportunity they get to be together.

No matter who says it, though, it’s always Otabek’s duty to keep both their feet on the ground. Yuri’s way more clingy than he makes it appear to stranger’s eyes, and always hesitates when Otabek lets his guard down enough for those words to get past his lips.

“You know I can’t, Yura,” he says, so soft it’s almost a whisper, and Yuri barely catches it over all the chatting and the announcements made through the speakers of Sheremetyevo airport. He doesn’t have to hear it, though, to know what Otabek is saying.

“I know,” he answers, voice low and clearly decayed, but eyes soft and loving fixed on his boyfriend. He smiles that small, downhearted smile reserved for every time they have to say their goodbyes, and Otabek’s heart twists inside his chest.

He can’t help but grab him by the arm and pull him in for a rib-crushing, already longing hug. Yuri immediately wraps his arms around him too, fingers grabbing onto the fabric on his back and pressing their chests together, face going straight to hide on the curve of Otabek’s neck. Otabek nuzzles his hair, breathing in the citric scent of his lover’s shampoo. His hair must smell the same, since they showered together this morning. They stand there by the windows in front of Otabek’s boarding gate, pressed hard against each other, trying to mold their bodies together as much as they can so they don’t forget how it feels during the long months to come. Trying to breath this scent glued to both their bodies, which is the result of being so close the smell of Yuri’s cologne and Otabek’s aftershave have mixed together to create something new, something theirs. They’re aware they keep like that for minutes, but it feels like it’s never enough, and both tense up when the voice coming through the speakers announces the last calling for Otabek’s flight.

“That’s yours,” Yuri mutters after a couple of seconds without them giving any indication of letting go.

Otabek hums and nods, but doesn’t acknowledge it further. He just wants a moment, just a couple more seconds.

They break away just enough to look at each other, hands sliding softly along waists and hips and arms in long caresses. Yuri presses his chest on Otabek’s as their gazes lock, and waits until Otabek carefully pushes his bangs aside to reveal that eye that’s always hidden behind a blond curtain, before leaning up to kiss him. Otabek meets him halfway, leaning down a bit because, no matter how much Yuri’s grown, he’s never managed to top him.

The kiss is longing, deep and a little bit desperate. He’s sure it takes all of Yuri’s willpower to break it, pushing back enough for them to not fall into the temptation of locking lips again.

“You have to go,” Yuri says, voice slightly strained from fighting his true wishes in favor of doing what’s required of him as a responsible adult. Which is letting go of his boyfriend.

Otabek does his part and steps back, grasping his travel bag firmly to find strength somewhere, but keeps looking Yuri in the eye.

“I’ll call you when I land,” he says, because he doesn't want to say ‘goodbye’.

Yuri nods, and stays there with his feet firmly glued to the floor. Otabek knows he won’t go until he sees his back disappear through the door. He himself never leaves the airport until Yuri’s plane takes off.

Finally, Otabek turns around and starts walking to the boarding zone, but after only a few steps Yuri’s voice stops him.

“Wait, Beka!”

He looks back immediately, unlike when he has to turn back to walk away from him.

Yuri’s eyes lock with his the second Otabek turns, and stay fixed there. He looks like he’s trying to get something off his mouth and it’s taking him all he’s got. His lips move, trying to form words, but nothing coherent comes out.

Otabek smiles. This, too, happens every time.

“I’ll miss you too, kitten,” he smiles fondly, and after a moment Yuri returns the smile, a little apologetically but also happy he’s been, once again, understood.

“Go away,” he says with no bite at all, as loving as he can ever be, and the last thing Otabek sees before walking through the doors is his smile.

Yuri stays there for as long as it takes Otabek to text him.

Beka: Already seated. There’s a kid kicking my seat from behind. It’s going to be a long flight.

Yuri chuckles and quickly types back.

You: tell the parents, don't be a pussy

Beka: I’m respectful.

You: the kid isn’t. kick back

Beka: You’re going to get me arrested someday, Yura.

Yuri smiles and shakes his head softly, eyes never leaving the screen. A “...” sign appears, indicating Otabek’s writing.

Beka: I have to turn off the phone. Call you when I get to Almaty.

A short pause.

Beka: I love you, Yura.

You: i love u too, beka. have a nice flight

He sighs, pockets his phone and unglues his back from the wall, starting to walk in the general direction of the exit.

They’ve been dating for almost three years now, but they could never get used to saying goodbye.

True to his words, Otabek calls him right after getting a hold of his suitcase. Yuri can tell he’s still inside the airport and they talk until the moment he gets to his apartment. It’s late, though, around three in the morning in Almaty since they had booked the latest flight they could. Thus, they have to end the call too soon for their liking, since they need to sleep and Yuri has stubbornly stayed awake waiting to hear the ringtone set specifically for his boyfriend. It’s not that late in Moscow, but he has to go back to St. Petersburg soon and that means going back to waking up almost at the crack of dawn to exercise, no possibility of staying up late and sleeping in the next morning, so he needs a good sleep schedule.

Saying goodnight through the phone definitely isn't the same as being able to say it against each other’s skin, but it's the closest thing they have right now and they make do with that.

Yuri wakes up alone in his bed for the first time in a month. He can't help the tears that well up in his eyes at the realization that, fuck , his yearly month-long vacation with his boyfriend is over and there’s an, at least, four months path before they see each other again. It’s awful to be suddenly so alone and the longing, sadness and emptiness comes all crashing down on him, making his chest ache so much it's hard to breathe.

Yuri hugs tightly the pillow Otabek had been using. It smells like him, and that makes it better and worse at the same time. The first morning without him, as he does every time, Yuri lets the emotions take over.

Back in Almaty, Otabek clutches a black t-shirt against his chest, one that Yuri had claimed as his for as long as they were together and smells like the unique scent of the blond’s skin mixed with the soap he uses to wash clothes, and with his eyes closed tightly he tries to pretend he’s still in Moscow, lazing around in bed with his lover.

 • •

They need to be in contact, crave the artificial but welcomed closeness they get from texting and calling and Skyping, and for that very reason there’s an unspoken pact between them: never go to sleep without a call, never start the day without a message. It’s very rare of them to not fulfill that silent promise, as there can be days they hardly have time to text at other times, not to mention call, and in the busy lifestyle they have days can easily grow into weeks.

True to their unending devotion for each other, they fall back into the habit as soon as they're separated. It makes it easier for them to sleep, and they feel better after sending a good morning text or, occasionally, making a morning call, sometimes even Skype. They’re well past the ‘don’t look at me when I just woke up’ phase, and Yuri feels especially proud of himself the days he manages to wake Otabek up with a call, since it’s usually the other way around.

It goes without saying that they can text and call whenever, and the other will answer or pick up if he’s available.

“Are you in bed already?” Yuri asks, sitting cross-legged on his bed with Chopa, his cat, sprawled all over the sheets right in front of him as he pets her.

“I’m putting on my shirt, then I’ll get in bed, ” Otabek sounds a little far away, and Yuri guesses he must have activated the hands-free speaker. Since he lives alone, Otabek doesn’t tell him when he does that at home. It’s not like anyone else will hear, unlike in Yuri’s case, for he hasn’t been able to move from Lilia’s home to his own, though he hopes he will soon.

“You don’t wear a shirt to sleep, you liar,” Yuri accuses, but he knows his tone betrays the amused half smile on his lips.

“I do, it’s just with you that I don’t. Because you won’t let me,” Otabek seems to find the accusation quite funny too.

There’s a pause filled with the rustle of fabric, and while Yuri waits, Chopa turns around and exposes her belly in a playful manner. Yuri looks at her and arches an eyebrow, not really trusting her, but finally lowers his hand to tentatively touch her. He gets attacked the moment his hand comes in contact with her fur.

“Ah, you little bitch!” he curses, flicking Chopa on the head and taking his hand closer to his eyes so he can inspect the damage. The cat tries to snatch his hand again, but finding herself unable to reach it she proceeds to attack his knee and then run away.

“What happened ?” Otabek’s voice comes from the other side of the line, “Chopa? ”

“Yeah,” Yuri waits a moment and clicks his tongue when the scratch on his hand starts turning red. First it’s a thin line, then the blood starts overflowing to form small dark droplets, one of which threatens to fall soon. Yuri holds his hand still as he looks around for his cat, “The little shit suddenly turned all sugar-high on me, attacked my hand and ran off. I’ll go wash the scratch, wait a minute.”

“Go,” Otabek says after a second, and Yuri knows he nodded before saying anything and then realized he couldn’t see him, “I’ll wait in bed. ”

Yuri smiles at those words. It sounds like they’re going to sleep together.

He leaves the phone on his bed and makes a swift run for the bathroom standing on the balls of his feet. The wound is nothing too deep, so just washing and pressing a towel for a couple of seconds is enough to leave just the clean scratch forming a pink-ish line on his skin. He hurries back to his room.

When he comes back, however, instead of finding his phone still laying on his bed he’s welcomed by the sight of Chopa viciously attacking one of his leopard-printed pillows, biting and holding it with her claws as her legs repeatedly kick it. His phone is screen down on the floor.

“Hey!” Yuri yells, and as soon as Chopa sees him she’s jumping off the bed and disappearing through the door. He growls out of irritation and rolls his eyes, picking up his phone and looking at the screen in search for any damage. Nothing, but his call with Beka was ended and there’s a blurry picture of Chopa on his chat with Yuuko, along with a couple of texts consisting in a series of numbers and letters. He’ll apologize later, his priorities are well organized and he needs to call his boyfriend again right now.

“Yura,” he sounds tired, voice a little raspy, and as he clears his throat Yuri knows he had fallen asleep waiting. He smiles.

“Sorry, Chopa came back while I was gone and somehow ended the call and threw my phone to the floor,” Yuri speaks softly, he doesn’t want to fully wake his boyfriend up. He’s a little tired too, after coming back to St. Petersburg almost two weeks ago he has started practising all day again, so he understands and wants him to rest.

“Ah, so that was it,” Yuri can hear some more rustling and he guesses Otabek’s turning to find a more comfortable spot in bed. He always lays in some uncomfortable way when he’s tired but doesn’t want to fall asleep, and he always does anyway. “ I heard some rustling, she was probably attacking it. ”

“I don’t even know why she hates my phone so much,” Yuri walks back to the door and his fingers linger over the light switch, “Lights off?”

Otabek hums from the other side.

“Mine are already, just the lamp on the nightstand is on,” Yuri hears him move again. He’s trying to stay awake.

Yuri flicks the lights off and goes back to the large bed, flopping down on it and tugging the sheets over his body. He turns to his side.

“Turn it off, already,” he says, hugging one of his many extra pillows and pressing his chin over it, “I know you fell asleep waiting for me, and you know I know, so let’s skip the show and do this.”

Otabek groans softly. It’s kind of funny, Yuri thinks at that, how half of Otabek’s way of communicating is through body language and hums and groans, and how he’s came to understand his manners.

“I’m sorry,” he finally apologizes, and behind his voice there’s the distinct sound of the light switch being pressed, “I wanted to talk to you too, but today was busy.”

Yuri huffs and his legs find their way around the long pillow, pressing it closer against his body.

“Don’t be an idiot, Beka. It’s happened before, we just were busy all day and too tired to talk now,” he can’t say he’s not disappointed, because he was looking forward to their little chat before bed. Georgi had fallen face-first on the ice today and it was really funny, and Yuri himself has improved quite noticeably at performing the first half of his new SP, and he still wants to tell Otabek all that, but he’s not a selfish bastard. When he’s too tired to talk or just not in the mood, Otabek always respects it. He deserves the same. “I’ll just have twice as many things to tell you tomorrow. It can wait,” he insists, closing his eyes for a moment and picturing his boyfriend sprawled on his bed, probably laying on his stomach and with a hand under the pillow, the way he tends to sleep when he’s alone. “You can wake me up with a call tomorrow if you feel the need to make up for this, though.”

Yuri hears a short exhale from the other side of the line and knows his boyfriend is smiling in a mixture of amusement, fondness and tiredness. It makes him smile too.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Otabek finally says, voice low in a whisper that, if anything, makes the statement feel all the more intimate. Yuri knows, now, that his boyfriend is way more tired than he had initially thought, because that sentence came literally out of nowhere and that’s just how sappy Otabek turns when his brain is shutting down from tiredness but he wants to keep being awake. Knowing that, of course, doesn’t stop Yuri from turning beet red, blush creeping all the way up to his ears. That corny bastard. “I love you, Yura.”

“I love you too, idiot,” a couple of years ago he wouldn’t have been able to say that without stuttering, or say it at all, but this much time dealing with his lover’s antics and displays of affection have helped him get accustomed. Not to say that he doesn’t stutter anymore from time to time. “Good night.”

“G’night, kit,” Otabek mumbles, using that nickname that’s short for another nickname, ‘kitten’. Yuri hears those from time to time, and has come to realize Otabek uses them when he’s overwhelmed by emotion and just ‘Yura’ or ‘love’ won’t suffice to convey his feelings. He can relate to that.

He stays there, just listening intently to Otabek’s breathing until he feels the lightheadedness that comes with sleep and barely manages to press the ‘end call’ button before losing consciousness.

He’s woken up by the chorus of a Jon Bellion song that Otabek loves and Yuri’s set as his ID ringtone. He answers with a smile already seated on his lips, and from the other side the deep, soothing voice of his boyfriend hints a smile of his own.

“Good morning, Yura.”

 • •

Being far away for long periods of time has lead them to develop some costumes other people wouldn’t even think about, but hey, ‘desperate times call for desperate measures’. And if they’re something, that’s desperate to feel close.

“Watch your fingers, Yura,” Otabek warns as he sneaks a glance to his computer screen, where he’s greeted by the sight of his boyfriend in a red apron, brow furrowed in concentration as he cuts the chicken breasts in strips and then those strips into cubes. 

“I’m nineteen, I know how to use a knife,” he growls back, never lifting his gaze from the cutting board even when Otabek knows the glare directed to the chicken is meant for him.

Otabek smiles amusedly.

“I am aware of your age,” he says, and at that Yuri does look up, but only because he wants to kick that smile away from his face, “But you were also nineteen the last time we did this, and you had to hurry to the hospital because you nearly cut off your thumb.”

It had been a nasty accident, not as terrible as Otabek makes it sound but, Yuri has to concede, there had been a lot of blood involved. Their little cooking-together-through-Skype had been interrupted for that day and put on stand-by for a while, since Yuri had been banned from the kitchen for as long as it took for his thumb to heal properly. He had sent Beka a couple of pictures of the three stitches holding together his skin, not exactly the most romantic pics he’d ever sent him but hey, not the worst either.

“That was half a year ago,” he means to growl but Otabek can make out the pout on his lips by the tone it imprints on his voice, and can also see it even though the video isn’t exactly HD.

“Just be careful, love,” he repeats, this time softer, and Yuri still frowns but goes back to cutting the chicken in silent agreement.

They chat while they prepare the ingredients for their meal, chopping garlic and cutting parsley leaves, setting out all the spices, washing the tomatoes and putting them to boil. It’s nice for both of them to be able to share a moment like this, doing everyday things in a way that makes them feel closer. Silence takes over from time to time but it’s welcomed and easy, like when Yuri is trying to figure out where the hell Lilia hid the salt and Otabek is grating the parmesan cheese because he’s always dead set on doing it himself, unlike his boyfriend. The conversation topics change, sometimes subtly and sometimes no so much, ranging from the climate to the possible deep interpretation of one of their dreams, to the latest nail polish Yuri has bought. It’s nice.

Until they get to the part where they have to actually start cooking, and the same discussion topic arises every time without failure: Yuri’s preference to follow the recipe vs. Otabek’s tendency to deviate from it.

“Beka, it says olive oil, why the hell would you use canola instead? ” the blond protests, a black spatula on his right hand. He looks so cute with that red apron and his hair tied in a half-ponytail that Otabek gets distracted for a second.

“I like it better,” he says matter of factly, “You know I’m not a fan of olives.”

“Well, yeah, but the recipe says--”

“Yura,” Otabek interrupts him as he uncaps the canola oil. Years of being by the boy’s side, both as a friend and as a lover, have taught him the best way of bringing these useless discussions to an end. “I’m the one eating it.”

Otabek tilts the oil over the pot and Yuri’s eyes go wide.

“Don’t you da-” he starts, but the oil is already flowing and it hits the bottom of the pot with a soft metallic sound. Yuri growls, “You asshole.”

As he screws the cap back, while Yuri busies himself with his own oil and a couple of things muttered under his breath, Otabek smiles faintly and shakes his head. He finds his hot temper endearing, always has.

 • •

“I can’t believe I’ve never seen this movie,” Yuri mutters before stuffing his mouth with the popcorn he made for himself.

“It’s really good,” Otabek nods from the other side of the screen, though Yuri knows he’s watching his camera to see his reactions more than he’s watching the movie.

It’s the third time Otabek’s watched it, and even though he’s said he still likes it as much as the first time there’s apparently something more appealing about the way Yuri hugs his pillow and frowns or bites his lower lip according to whatever’s happening on screen. His face has always been really expressive, especially when Otabek is involved.

“I don’t want it to end. They have to find a cure or something,” he whines, something he only allows himself to do in front of Otabek. He just hums noncommittally and keeps quiet otherwise, probably to not spoil the movie for him. Yuri’s focused on the dialogue between the two main characters, but after that scene ends he huffs and hugs his pillow closer to his face. He’s lying on his stomach on top of his bed, lights off so the only illumination Otabek gets to see his face is the brightness of the screen. This movie is touching some strings in Yuri, nothing too deep but it still makes him remember some things. “Cancer is shit,” he says. It’s just a statement, something everyone on Earth knows but he feels the need to point out.

Still, he can basically feel Otabek’s eyes glued to him even from the other side of the camera, a whole country away.

“It is,” Otabek agrees. He doesn’t bother trying to find more words because he knows Yuri doesn’t need them.

They’ve talked about this before, the multiple times they‘ve addressed the family topic. Yuri’s told him all about his mess of a family, about the unknown identity of his father, about his disappeared mother, and of course about his grandmother who died of cancer. Yuri never had the chance to meet her, since she had passed away years before he was even conceived, but Yuri is really close to his grandfather and whoever is important to Nikolai instantly turns into someone important to him. So, he remembers his grandmother, and the face he’s seen in photographs always pops up in his mind when someone mentions cancer.

A while more into the movie, Yuri deems a scene unimportant enough to speak again.

“What would you put in your bucket list if you knew you were gonna die soon?” he asks, eyes traveling to the corner of the screen where Otabek’s camera is.

“Yura, the movie,” Otabek reminds him. Yuri is well aware of his tendency to start talking during the slow parts of the movie, get wrapped up on his ideas and go back to watching when he’s missed part of the story, but he’s never had any interest to change that about himself.

“I’d like to pet a tiger, at least once,” Yuri ignores him, and Otabek sighs, “We could go to a zoo or some place where they let you pet the tigers, right?”

When Yuri sees Otabek’s fond smile, he knows he just won this battle. During the years they’ve been together, Yuri has learned Otabek has a soft spot for him acting on his most childish wishes.

“Horseback riding,” Otabek contributes, and smiles when Yuri’s eyes once again glue to the corner of the screen where his camera is. “A last holiday with my mother and sister” he adds, and Yuri nods. “Kiss the most beautiful boy in the world,” Otabek’s half-smile is playful, looking at the corner of his own screen where Yuri’s face is on display. The fucker just wants to get a reaction from him. “That being you.”

Yuri can’t help it. His response is instantaneous. Otabek’s just repeating one of the items of the bucket list from the movie, and yet Yuri can feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

“I know, you sap,” he grunts, trying to hide his face a little more behind the pillow, “Stop copying the fucking movie.”

 • •

They have each other in every social net and app they use, frequently or not, so there are lots of ways for them to communicate. They mostly text, send snaps on Snapchat and, more than anything, Skype, and on the side they constantly send each other pics through Instagram. There probably isn’t a picture in Yuri’s Instagram that hasn’t been liked by Otabek.

At the beginning, Otabek must say, he wasn’t really fond of apps and social media, but with time and Yuri’s nagging he started to use them more and more, eventually even changing his cellphone for a newer model that allows him to download more things and makes his communication with Yuri all the more easier. Like, for example, having Skype on his phone while his computer is being fixed.

“Mila was talking about her new boyfriend today,” Yuri is sitting cross-legged over his bed, hair falling loosely over his shoulders and back as he brushes it. He got out of shower just ten minutes ago and Skype-called Otabek the minute he stepped out of the water so they could have at least a quick call before sleeping. Otabek still can’t take those long legs and creamy thighs out of his mind.

And the way the blue towel hung loosely around Yuri’s hips and how it, upon being untied, slipped sensually over his skin and fell to the floor.

Already past a month and a half without being able to touch Yuri, and he’s feeling it.

“Mila’s always talking about her boyfriends,” Otabek responds to Yuri’s comment, turning on his bed to lay on his back, one arm behind his head as the other holds his phone up over his face so they can see each other, “Was she complaining too much?” he asks, knowing that even a little complaining is too much on Yuri’s ears, especially coming from Mila or Georgi.

“No,” Yuri takes deep interest in brushing a particular strand of his light golden hair, and his voice says more to Otabek than what Yuri intends to convey through that one word. It sends alarms off inside the Kazakh’s head, his chest constricting in anticipation for the next sentence. “She’s pretty happy with this one. Couldn’t stop talking about how wonderful he is and how amazing it is to spend time with him.”

Ah. There it is.

“I… Yura, you know she gets like that,” Otabek turns around so he can rest with his chest and belly over the mattress, all his attention now on Yuri, whose fingers are now caressing the strands of hair as if he’s in deep thought, “She’s probably doing it to Georgi and Sara too.”

“I know that,” Yuri snaps, voice containing something that runs cold in his veins, “but…”

There’s a pause, where even Yuri’s fingers stop moving and everything sits still. Otabek waits for the words he knows won’t come out of Yuri’s mouth. He always misses him too much to handle it.

Then he sighs.

“Yura,” he calls, patient and calm, but Yuri doesn’t react, “Yura, look at me.”

It seems that Otabek’s mellow voice reaches the blond now and, just as the rodents in The Pied Piper of Hamelin couldn’t resist the music, Yuri’s unable to do anything but obey his boyfriend’s request.

His eyes tell much more than Otabek was expecting.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Beka,” Yuri’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper, and sounds wet and hurt in all the wrong ways, and damn if it doesn’t break Otabek’s heart to see him like that. “I want to kiss you. Hug you. I miss you so fucking much, Otabek Altin, what the fuck have you done to me.”

He knows he doesn’t mean it like that, but Otabek can’t help but feel responsible and he’d do anything, he’d give up skating right this second if it meant Yuri wouldn’t hurt like this. His arms tingle in an unpleasant way with the need to hold him, the constricting feeling inside his chest turns tighter and makes his throat knot painfully, especially given the fact that Yuri actually said he misses him, instead of leaving it implied for Otabek to understand, like he always does.

He hates this.

“I miss you too, Yuri,” he whispers, leaving the pet names aside for once because things just got serious. Yuri’s eyes, pixelated and far away but still unbelievably green and honest, hang onto Otabek’s with such longing it feels like they’re getting inside his body and taking his heart away like a war treasure. Otabek would be fine with giving it to him.

“I want to see you,” Yuri breathes, and it’s desperate and broken and everything Otabek wants Yuri to not be, and it irks him that they have to go through this every time, because the boy sure as hell doesn’t deserve it. “I’m just this bit away from picking up my things and taking the next flight to Almaty.”

“Yuri…” Otabek breathes. He knows he can’t do anything about it, they have scheduled times to meet and have to endure the months between the visits, and they usually can but every time one of them snaps at least once, and it’s mostly Yuri and he can’t handle it when it happens. They miss each other with the same intensity, but he’s never been one to show those things, while Yuri is pretty transparent and emotion-driven, even if he doesn’t want to be. “We just have to wait a while longer until you come visit. Just another month,” he reminds him, pleading, because the impotence he’s feeling right now is heavy and difficult to deal with. What can he say, after all? They’re not breaking up, that has been put on the table many times when the distance became too much to handle and still the one time they did it lasted less than a week and they decided to never do something that stupid again.

“Like another two months,” Yuri corrects, a heavy sigh he doesn’t want to let out weighing on his chest. “I just want to kiss you, Beka, I’m not asking for much,” and yet I can’t have it is left unsaid, but they both know that’s what he means.

“I’m sorry, Yura.”

Yuri frowns, but then looks down.

“What are you apologizing for? I’m the one who asked you out on the first place,” he reminds him, letting his hair fall in front of his face like a glowing curtain.

“Yes, I know, but--”

He can’t finish his sentence, though, because suddenly Yuri disappears from the screen, which trembles with the movement of the mattress.

“You shit! You’re a fucking demon!” Otabek hears his voice coming from the speakers of his phone.

Oh wow. Well, now he knows what happened. Or who was involved, at least.

As if on cue, a light caramel and black blur jumps on the screen and Yuri screeches .

“Get off the computer, you crazy bitch!” he yells, and through the tilted camera Otabek can see Yuri’s legs and a black, fluffy tail.

“What did she do now?”

With some more mumbled words, Chopa is left over the bed and Yuri leans towards the camera and repositions the computer where it belongs, proceeding then to hand-tame his slightly tousled hair.

“She had something stuck on her tail, and since she couldn’t get it off she started running around and jumped on me,” he huffs, but Otabek can’t help the amused chuckle that leaves his lips. “Don’t laugh, it wasn’t funny.”

“You didn’t see it from here,” he counters, and Yuri scorns. The atmosphere has lightened up significantly, but when they lock eyes once again it’s heavy and slightly uncomfortable, the need to talk about it clashing with the want to leave it there if just to avoid feeling worse.

Chopa decides to join their staring contest.

“Oh, hi princess,” he greets the pet when she suddenly appears in front of the camera, blocking Yuri’s frame with her too-fluffy fur and her big, round blue eyes. She looks wild, pupils barely a black line within all that blue, and Otabek takes a screenshot. He’s surprised to see the picture shows Chopa’s eyes almost entirely black, her pupils now dilated with barely a ring of color around them. “Wow,” he says, and effectively the camera depicts a wide-eyed Chopa looking at him.

“What-? Hey, what the hell Chopa?”

Otabek sees the fur moving up and down, his screen mostly obscured by it. He doesn’t understand a thing.

“What is she doing?” he asks, curving an eyebrow. The tenseness from before lifts, and his shoulders slump against the pillow he’s been leaning over.

“She’s licking the damn screen,” Yuri informs, and the fur covering the camera retreats. “I think she misses you too, the little bitch. You know, I was the one who adopted you when you were just a little ball of fur and fleas, you ungrateful shit. ” Otabek laughs and takes another screenshot almost in reflex at seeing his boyfriend holding Chopa from below her front legs, the cat stretched as long as she is —which, frankly, isn’t that much— and staring at the screen with pupils still blown wide. The blond is cross-legged again, looking at her with a tilted head in a position that makes his shoulder blades-long hair cover almost his entire face from Otabek’s eyes. “She looks like she’s high or something.”

“Like that time I gave her catnip?” Otabek suggests with the hint of an amused smile on his lips.

“Yeah, almost,” Yuri concedes, and then looks at him with green eyes that are shining with an entirely different emotion than a couple of minutes before. He’s smiling. Otabek thanks everything that’s holy for that cat’s antics, she’s lightened their mood a lot. “I was so worried back then when she wouldn’t move, but now it’s funny to remember.”

“You wanted to kill me for breaking your cat,” Otabek reminds him, finally earning a hearty laugh from Yuri’s side.

“She didn’t move for like an hour!” he exclaims, laughter still tinting his voice.

Otabek can’t help the smile that creeps to his lips too.

“She’s still so small, isn’t she like five years old already?” he asks when Chopa is finally put back on the mattress, and she seems to have calmed down as she lifts a black leg, sticking it up in the air and licking it, “Well, they say pets take after their owners.”

“Yea- hey!” it takes a moment for Yuri to process the teasing behind that sentence, and Chopa jumps when he slams his hand over his bed. “I grew again, I could be as tall as you by the time we meet, for your information.”

It’s Otabek’s turn to laugh, the sincere, deep rumble of his voice catching both Yuri’s and Chopa’s attention.

“Sure, Yura. Although I was talking about her flexibility too,” he says, in a peace-offering sort of way.

Yuri responds by sticking his leg up in the air like his cat.

“You might be right there,” he concedes, sided smile in place. Chopa looks at him, lowers her own leg and stares for another second before walking calmly towards the computer again, “Oh my God, she’s rubbing against the fucking screen,” Yuri rolls his eyes and slumps his shoulders dramatically, but when he reaches forward to pick her up again he ends up freezing in place. “Now she laid down right by the keyboard.”

"Do you think she wants to cuddle me?” Otabek suggests, and Yuri’s amused smile is all the answer he needs, “You can’t say you two aren’t alike.”

And the truth is, Otabek also likes cuddling with both of them. He’s glad Yuri has Chopa, so tonight he can hug her and miss him a little less. That cat has a sixth sense, she always knows when Yuri’s feeling down, and he silently thanks her for distracting them from their moping.

The next morning Yuri wakes up with a new notification on his cellphone.

otabek-altin has tagged you in a new photo.     @ yuri-plisetsky ’s cat’s look when she saw me on the screen. I guess pets do take after their owners. Thanks, Chopa.

Yuri’s eyes are barely open, but he smiles softly at the caption, chest swelling with love. Indeed: thanks, Chopa.

 • •

They’ve been texting through all their practice, or at least ever since Otabek first set foot on the rink today, and it’s been happening on and off since then, like a lot of times before, both of them sneaking to the side of the rink to send a quick text or sometimes pictures. A video of Otabek’s rinkmate —the only one he has— performing a jump combination and a picture of Yuri’s new pair of skates were tossed somewhere between the texts.

Thus, it’s not to say Otabek wasn’t expecting the blinking green light of his phone announcing a new message during the next hour. He just wasn’t expecting it so soon after Yuri’s break ended. Having still a couple of minutes of break himself, he opens the message immediately.

Yura: viktor n kautsdon invited me for dinner again

Yura: i swaer theyre gonna pull out the adotion papers anyday gdi

By the way Yuri’s texting, Otabek can only assume two things. One, he’s so angry he can barely type correctly, or two, he shouldn’t be typing at all. He knows the idea of having dinner with his self-proclaimed parents, no matter what Yuri wants everyone to think, isn’t that bad, so while he takes a swig of water he rushes to text him back before Yuri is discovered either by Lilia or Yakov.

You: It can’t be that bad. You could think of it as free food.

Yuri’s reply is almost instantaneous. A faint smiles attempts to tug Otabek’s lips at this.

Yura: no free fod is good enough

Yura: i hope the y keep th pda down

You: It won’t be PDA if you’re in their house.

Yura: its pda. im th public n i dont apprecate it

Well, there’s no way to fight that reasoning. Instead, he just exhales amusedly.

You: Then I guess no call tonight?

He could have asked that after they’re done with practice, since he knows Yuri’s daily schedule as well as his own and they almost always text right the moment Yuri’s practice hours end. Still, he wanted to know.

Yura: wht no. im still calling u i dont care

Otabek lets a small smile take place on his lips and softly shakes his head as he starts typing a response, but a new text from Yuri has him erasing it to type something completely different.

Yura: oh fuck Yakov sw me

Yura: gotta run

Yura: love u babe

You: If you don’t survive I’ll tell your parents you loved them dearly too.

He doesn’t get any text back from him, no “fuck u” or “forget it i dont love u anymore”, but he knows —almost four years of knowing Yuri have given him the right to use that word— that he made him smile with that sentence, or at least gave him the want to smile, whether Yuri repressed it in order to scorn at Yakov or not.

Otabek leaves his phone with the rest of his things, stands and skates back to the center of the rink for a little more practice before calling it a day, knowing that he probably won’t get another text until Yuri leaves his rink in two more hours.

Four hours later, though, he’s still waiting and already starting to get a little antsy. It’s not like Yuri to do this, he usually texts him right the moment he steps out of the rink for the final time that day and they keep talking until Otabek has to go to sleep. Sometimes they both go to bed at the same time just to feel closer. Today will be different, or so it seems since he’s staying awake waiting for Yuri to text back, no matter how tired he’ll feel tomorrow. It’s not like he can’t just go to sleep and ask what happened tomorrow, but he has the feeling that Yuri’s absence isn’t caused by Viktor and Yuuri dragging him to their house for dinner, or by low battery. He said they were still having that night call, if only to say goodnight and nothing else, and Yuri would have told him if he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it.

He sends yet another text and waits, already on his third cup of tea and watching a show on his laptop just to keep his mind active and distracted, though it’s not helping that much.

Finally, he sees the screen of his phone light up with Yuri’s ID picture and he almost causes his laptop to fall to the floor as he scrambles to pick up the device and slide the answer button.

“Yura?” he asks, hopeful and relieved. “Did something happen?”

His relief doesn’t last much. Rather, it comes crashing down when he hears not Yuri’s, but Mila’s voice.

“Uh,” she hesitates, “no, sorry. It’s me, Otabek.”

“Mila,” Otabek frowns, worry slowly filling his chest, “Why are you on Yuri’s phone?”

There’s a small pause, and Otabek swears he’s going to have a heart attack if Mila doesn’t speak soon.

“Well, you see,” she starts, obviously trying to find the right words to say whatever she has to say, but then she sighs, “Okay, so, don’t panic but Yuri had an accident.”

Don’t panic, she said. Hah. Funny.

“What?” he snaps immediately, sitting even more upright than before, “What happened? Is he-?”

“He’s fine,” she cuts him, trying to calm him down, “He fell a little while before finishing practice. Pretty badly, actually, hit his head and his ankle took some damage too. He was knocked unconscious and we took him to the hospital,” she explains. Otabek’s chest feels tight, but he doesn’t speak and won’t do so until she’s finished. “They bandaged his ankle and had to glue the cut on his forehead to keep it from bleeding. The doctors are double checking for a concussion. When he woke up he asked me to pick up his phone for him and call you on my way back.”

A small silence settles in and Otabek knows that Mila’s done talking, but he takes his time to breathe again before saying anything.

“... is he really okay?” is the first thing that leaves his mouth, and frankly the only thing that matters to him right now.

He can hear Mila’s smile in her voice when she speaks next.

“Yeah, I assure you, the kitten is fine,” she’s saying it so carefree that he tells himself he has to calm down and believe her. It’s just that the fact he’s not able to be with him right now weighs heavy on him, heavier than usually. “You can trust me. The first thing he did was curse because his ankle was swollen and it hurt. Then he turned to look around, panicked and asked what time it was,” Mila narrates, and Otabek can almost picture her leaning casually against the railings of the rink. So far what she’s saying does sound like Yuri, especially the cursing part. “He didn’t even ask what happened, he just wanted to know the time because he was supposed to call you tonight, right?” Otabek nods, then hums, “He was more worried about that than about himself. Even gave me the password to unlock his phone so I could call you.”

She’s obviously still smiling and Otabek doesn’t hear teasing or mischief in her voice, but just to be sure he has to say something important.

“I know it’s probably a golden opportunity, Mila, but please don’t--”

“I won’t pry around, I swear,” she interrupts him again, and his silence apparently says a lot because she’s speaking again soon enough, “I know how long-distance relationships work, you know. And no matter how hot you are or how much blackmail I could get out of this, there are things about my friends I don’t wanna see,” she explains, and even if she’s being extremely understanding of the situation Otabek can feel the heat rising on his cheeks. “I’m not that evil.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” he clears his throat and focuses once more on the important topic, “So, you’re taking Yuri’s phone to him now?”

“Yup. But it’ll take a while until I get there and they let him go, so Yuri said you don’t need to keep awake. It’s pretty late there, isn’t it?”

Otabek looks at the time. 12:57 am.

“I’ll be awake. Tell him to call me as soon as he can, please.”

Mila laughs.

“Will do,” she says, and Otabek is prepared to hang up when her voice comes again through the line, this time softer, "Oh, and Otabek?” he answers with a hum. “He loves you.”

That takes him by surprise.

“He said that?” it’s pretty unrealistic to believe Yuri would tell her to say that to him, and if he did then Otabek knows there’s a good reason to stay awake. Yuri wouldn’t send someone to tell him that if he was in his right mind.

“No,” comes the reply. Otabek arches an eyebrow, confused, “but I know. You can tell a lot with a look at his eyes. I thought I’d tell you.”

“Oh,” Otabek eloquently says.

“You two are really lucky,” Mila almost whispers. Otabek knows he’s lucky, but he doesn’t have time to say so, “Well, I’ll tell him to call you! Bye~” she chants, and then the conversation is over.

Otabek makes sure to stay awake until he gets Yuri’s call, and by the time he plops on his bed and closes his eyes to finally sleep it’s almost three am.

He hates himself in the morning.

 • •

A bored Yuri usually means an angry Yuri, and bored is all Yuri has been during the past three days. He’s forced to stay in bed until his ankle heals completely, and he’s never been good at staying still for long periods of time, unless it’s for a very good reason —like, lets say, Otabek’s there hugging him— but he’s not as stupid as to go try a jump combo and end up fucking up his ankle even worse, so he’s stuck there just kind of complaining, catching up with shows and sending multiple angry texts to his boyfriend.

Today being Sunday, Otabek’s proposed to have an all-day call, Yuri almost jumping at the prospect of having something else than angry-texting, watching some show, reading and sleeping to pass the time. They’re currently just texting, though, as Otabek was having lunch with his family and is just preparing to go back home in a few minutes.

Otabek’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he discreetly takes it out to look at the newest message while his mother and aunt are immersed in their own conversation. His little sister, ever watchful, catches him in fraganti , but just quietly smiles when he puts a finger over his lips.

Yura: im soooo bored bekaaa. how much till u get home?

He looks around to ensure no one’s looking and types a quick reply. It’s not like his family would say anything, he actually told them about the situation while they were eating, but he still doesn’t want to be disrespectful.

You: I have to do the dishes and stop by the coffee shop before getting home, so maybe an hour.

Immediately after he presses ‘send’, he looks up to find his sister staring at him with her big, dark eyes.

“Is Yuri okay?” she asks, and though she’s not a little girl anymore he still sees her as such.

“Don’t worry, he’s just bored. He’s not good at staying still for long,” he explains, but doesn’t bother to pocket his phone again as he knows he’ll be getting a new message soon.

“So you’ve said,” she puts her hands over her lap and her eyes fly up to the ceiling and then to the side, “Tell him I say hi?”

Otabek’s phone buzzes twice in his hand, and he smiles.

“Of course,” he tells her, and then looks down to read.

Yura: another hour ugh im gonna die

Yura: :(

Smilies, huh? That’s unusual.

You: I know, I’m sorry. I’ll try to be there soon. Oh, Aigerim says hi. She’s worried about you.

Aigerim, currently on her chair and balancing her legs, leans towards him as if expecting a reply from Yuri. She admired him for some time before Otabek became his friend, still admires him and wants him to like her so she tends to be extra cute and polite around him the few times they can actually meet.

Otabek puts his phone up and snaps a quick shot of the girl, quick enough that she doesn’t manage to cover her face with her forearms in time.

“Brother!” she complains, but Otabek’s already sending the picture to Yuri, and the reply is instantaneous.

Yura: that cute brat

Yura: tell her i say hi too

Yura: also that i’ll reward her if she helps me get you home quicker

Otabek sighs and shakes his head with a small, fond smile.

“Did he say something?” his sister asks, leaning over the table again.

“He says hi too,” he looks down at his phone again and shakes his head once more, “and he’s trying to bribe you into helping him. He wants me to go home faster.”

Aigerim’s attention is piqued at that.

“What does he have to offer?” she asks, leaning sideways towards him and eyeing his phone with interest. Otabek knows both their mother and aunt are watching them amusedly.

He looks at his phone again and hands it to her.

“Here, you talk to him,” the device slides over the wooden table and he stands up, “I’ll go wash the dishes meanwhile.”

Aigerim smiles, somewhere between excitement and a smirk, and eagerly takes the phone to start texting.

Two minutes later a head of braided black hair enters Otabek’s side vision, and suddenly his sister’s bumping him with her hip.

“Yuri and I came to an agreement,” she says in a businesswoman voice, rolling up the sleeves of her dress, “I’m doing the dishes now.”

Otabek smiles and leans down to take her face between his hands and give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey,” she tries to complain like the rebellious teenager she’s supposed to be, but the smile gives her away. “Go, your boyfriend started almost moping when I left him alone.”

The fact that Otabek arrives home in around half an hour is entirely thanks to his sister, and a little bit thanks to the fact the coffee shop is almost empty when he stops by.

Yura: i love your sister

Yura: also dont tell her i was coming for her 15 birthday anyway

 • •

By the fifth day, Yuri’s boredom has reached unsuspected levels, and with boredom —once you’re past the anger phase— comes Yuri’s imaginative problem solving. He can get quite creative on what to do with his time.

Like, say, sending Otabek dirty texts while he’s at practice.

Otabek nervously eyes the blinking green light that indicates there’s a text waiting to be read, but he resists the temptation of opening it. Last one was a very compromising picture of Yuri and no, despite what the less than pure part of his mind says, reading those things out in public is a bad, bad idea.

His attention, of course, plummets to the floor and then a little more with every blink of the bright light dot. He suffers through it with steel determination… well, no, not really. Every now and then he can’t help but open the accumulated messages and read them one after the other, all the while trying to not get too flustered. And it’s obvious the only thing Yuri needs to keep going is the tick that gives away that Otabek is reading. Either way, it’s been five hours and he can’t take it anymore. The moment he finishes practice is the moment he finally replies before hastily taking off his skates and replacing them for shoes.

You: I’m going home.

He can practically see Yuri’s smirking.

Yura: ill be waiting

Otabek can say, with all honesty, that this was his fastest ride home.

He’s not even done climbing the stairs to his apartment and he’s already dialing Yuri’s number. He picks up right after the second tone.

“Hey, Beka,” he sounds slightly out of breath, and by what he’s supposedly been doing all this while it doesn’t surprise him. “Are you home?”

Otabek hastily fishes his keys out of his pocket and practically jumps the last steps.

“Just getting there,” he says, huffing. He just went up three sets of stairs in less than a minute.

“Already that worked up?” Yuri’s smile is painfully obvious in his voice, but he isn’t exactly trying to hide it. 

“Would it be that surprising?” Otabek sticks the key in and opens the door, shutting it behind him, “I just endured the longest teasing ever.”

Yuri clicks his tongue.

“Could have been worse,” he’s clearly amused by the situation, knowing right now Otabek is nearing his limit.

Otabek doesn’t know how it could be worse, but he’s not going to challenge Yuri.

“Yura,” he breathes.

“You want me that bad?” the blond teases again.

“You’re lucky you’re not here,” is his response. He’ll leave the rest to Yuri’s imagination.

Yuri clicks his tongue again and Otabek hears fabric rustling, and he knows the blond is turning. For what he’s been telling and showing him, he’s on his bed, only the sheets covering his naked body.

“I’d rather be with you,” he says, and the truth is Otabek would also love to have him here. “I don’t mind if you break me. I even want it,” he confesses without a trace of shame, and Otabek snaps.

It’s been at least a month since they did this together, and now that they have the opportunity they’re going to take it and make it count.

The next minutes are filled with teasing, names whispered with want and suggestions that could make Christophe Giacometti blush. They can get pretty specific when the moment allows it, and they enjoy teasing each other until one of them ends up submitting and lets himself be guided through it. Hands caress their own bodies like they’d want the other to touch them, heels dig into the mattress and backs arch against sheets and pillows, and between parted lips escape hot gasps and the most sinful pleas.

They end up panting, covered in sweat but smiling, whispering ‘I love you’s’ into the sudden quietness of the line.

 • •

Yuri’s time of obligatory rest is finally coming to an end in two days, and the boy is impatient to say the least, practically bouncing. All he’s been allowed to do during a whole week is stretching, banned from anything that could put strain on his ankle so it would be able to heal quicker and better, and for someone used to move practically all day every day it can be maddening to be bedridden for more than twenty-four hours. The cut on his forehead has healed too, though it’ll probably leave a small scar, and Otabek’s grateful it was just a bad fall with minor injuries and nothing more serious.

Otabek’s at the rink, as always, and he finds it strange that he hasn’t been getting text after text from an impatient and angry-because-I’m-bored Yuri, but he guesses he must be sleeping or reading or doing something else, finally taking pity on him and deciding to not distract him so much during his practice. It’s the least he should do, Otabek thinks, after the merciless teasing he was subjected to not more than two days ago.

The infamous green light is blinking when he goes to check his phone during his break, and he smiles against his water bottle before tilting it along with his head to take a sip. Then he opens the message. A picture. With a soft tap over it, it expands to occupy all the screen and the discreet smile comes back to his lips.

“the hag bought this for me so i will ‘stop sulking'", it reads. Above the caption are Mila and Yuri holding two small cups filled with ice cream, between them the pot containing the treat. He recognizes it, Mila’s homemade ice cream. She started making it herself when she grew tired of not being able to eat one of her favorite desserts because of the high sugar content, and sometimes she gifts her rinkmates with it. Otabek can see Yuri’s cup filled with mint ice cream, probably his favorite, and he suddenly craves for some. Mila makes a delicious strawberry and plum ice cream.

Otabek types a quick response and fills his mouth with water just to have something fresh to swallow.

You: Tell Mila I need to know her recipe.

 • •

The first day Yuri’s back on the ice, they have a night call so he can tell Otabek about it. It ends up being a full hour of complaining about how he forgot some steps of his program and how people were eyeing him cautiously, ready to assist him if he fell again after the same jump that had sent him to the hospital a little more than a week ago. Once he complained to his heart’s content they move on to talk about their programs, the strong points and the parts they’d rather change.

The second day they talk almost exclusively about how Yuri’s muscle memory helped him a lot, because after a little practice he was able to perform just as well as he was doing before the fall, and how he finally nailed that fucking jump. He says when he perfects it he’ll ask someone to record it so Otabek can see.

The third day the talk deviates widely from skating to the package that was waiting at Otabek’s door when he came home a couple of minutes before.

“Come on, open it,” they are on videocall, so Otabek can see Yuri is sitting on his bed, cross-legged as usual and balancing impatiently, “I didn’t pay for the express shipping so you could take a week to just stare at the box.”

“We’re meeting in three weeks, you could have waited until then,” Otabek says as he watches Yuri bounce.

“I didn’t want to. Come on,” he insists. Otabek guesses he’s waited enough and rips the package open, unboxing the item.

His eyes go wide in surprise. He wasn’t expecting this.

“... you made this?” lifting his face to direct his incredulous look at his boyfriend, he asks the first thing that comes to his mind. It definitely looks handmade, and Yuri wouldn’t purchase something like this to give to him, so he’s probably right. Still, he had to ask.

“Yeah,” the blond’s smile is blinding, he’s proud of his work, and there’s reason to be.

Otabek finally picks the scarf from the box and lifts it. It smells like Yuri, like his sheets the day right after he changes them, the unique scent of his skin mixed with laundry soap.

“You’re really good,” he muses, impressed by his lover’s skill. He was told, months ago, that Yuri had learned how to knit when he was younger in hopes that would teach him to be more patient. It hadn’t, and he had stopped for years but Otabek had jokingly asked him to knit him something and Yuri had said yes. And here it is, the result of his work, a tight-knit, soft, dark green and white woolen scarf.

“Thanks,” he pushes a strand of blond hair behind his ear and tilts his head slightly. “I needed some practice before I got it right, but I had plenty of time during the week I was banned from the rink. So yeah, I wanted to give it to you now.”

“It’s really soft,” Otabek rubs his thumbs over it and then brings it to his face, rubs it on his cheek and kisses it, “Thank you.”

“Shut up, it was nothing,” Yuri waves his hand in a dismissive way, looking to the side. Otabek knows he’s embarrassed, most likely because of the kiss. He did that on purpose.

“I’ll go take a shower, I’ll be back soon,” he announces, suddenly very aware of the fact that he got out of practice a while ago and still hasn’t showered.

He doesn’t end the videocall, by now they’re too used to have it on while they walk around the house doing things, at least to feel the presence of the other. When he comes back a couple of minutes later, Yuri is very concentrated on painting his nails, back arched forward so he can easily reach his toes..

“I’m back,” he announces, proceeding to pick some clothes and then change, already getting ready for bed. Yuri stares at him for a little while and then goes back to work.

“You didn’t take long,” he mentions, focused on the small nails he’s painting. Otabek sometimes does it for him, though he’s not that good at keeping the nail polish over the actual nail.

“I have really short hair, Yura,” he notes while pulling up his pants, “You’re used to longer showers because your hair reaches your shoulder blades.”

“Point,” Yuri answers, stretching his foot to take a good look at it.

Otabek sits in front of the camera again and, for a moment, he’s just content with watching Yuri assess his work and then move on to the next nail.

“It’s been awhile since I last saw you doing that,” his voice is soft, so as to not disturb the quiet peace that has settled between them.

“That’s probably because I haven’t been doing my nails lately. It’s been like five months,” he finally looks up to look him in the eye, “Next time I can paint yours, too. You’d look great with golden nail polish,” the smirk on his lips is devilish, he’s probably joking, but Otabek would let him paint his nails if he asked.

“So you’re painting your nails gold?” he asks in return. The video isn’t that great and it’s not like the camera is zooming right on Yuri’s nails, so he can’t really tell which color he’s using. Suddenly, he remembers, “Didn’t I buy you a golden nail polish during summer?”

Yuri almost drops the brush and ends up staining his hand.

“Fuck!” he curses, scrambling to avoid the nail polish to fall all over his bed, “Beka!” he complains. Otabek just arches an eyebrow with an amused look on his face. “... fine, yes, it’s the one you bought for me. Happy?”

He smiles warmly.

“Actually yes, very much so.”

 • •

Yuri’s impatient. There’s only one day left for them to meet, and he needs to talk to his boyfriend or the excitement is going to kill him. So, he does what seems logical and videocalls Otabek the moment he comes back from practice, escaping Lilia with the help of his ever loyal cat, who instantly comes to greet them upon hearing the door open and starts rubbing between her legs.

He was pretty surprised a couple of years ago, when Lilia saw Chopa for the first time and leaned down to pet her. Nowadays, it’s not unusual to walk into the living room to find Chopa resting on Lilia’s lap, probably the only moment Lilia allows her clothes to be less than perfect, with Chopa’s light caramel, white and black fur sticking to it.

Otabek picks up after a couple of tones and Yuri’s eyes go wide.

“Sorry Yura, I’m showering,” he’s holding the phone away from him so the water doesn’t reach it. Yuri wonders why did he pick up at all, he could have just called back when he stepped out of the shower, but he’s actually glad he did. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” his eyes trail over his boyfriend’s face, his black hair damp and brushed backwards, the droplets of water sliding down his naked chest. “Now, if you would just please turn the phone a little downwards…” he trails off, eyes glued to the lowest part of Otabek’s body the screen allows him to see.

Otabek just laughs that quiet laugh of his.

“Just give me five minutes and I’ll call you back”, he promises. Yuri purses his lips for a second.

“You better be naked and wet when you do or you’re not getting that birthday lap dance we were talking about”.

 • •

You: getting on the plane!

Beka: I’ll be waiting for you at the airport.

You: u better be

You: i still dont know how to get to ur house on my own

Beka: Aigerim is almost jumping. She’s really excited you’re coming for her fifteen birthday party.

You: wouldnt miss it. you haven’t told her she didn’t need to do me any favor to get me to come, right?

You: because she will make me pay if she finds out

Beka: I haven’t said a thing, I swear.

You: good boy

You: gotta turn this shit off. see u soon

Beka: Have a nice flight, Yura. I love you.

 • •

He makes a run for it and latches onto Otabek the moment he sees him, suitcase all but forgotten at the point where he started his race towards his boyfriend. Someone could take his damn things, he doesn’t care, he’ll buy new clothes later but he has to exploit every minute they have together, starting right now.

“Beka!” he exclaims, squeezing him between his arms and legs wrapped around him. He presses his head to the curve of his neck, where he meets soft, dark green yarn. Oh, how he’s missed his scent.

“Yura,” Otabek says in turn, less excited not because he isn’t as thrilled to see him but because he’s occupied trying to regain balance. “Yura, you’re here,” he tightens his arms around Yuri’s waist and under his thighs, pressing him against himself as much as he can, feeling his warmth and squeezing him with his fingers just to feel his body like he’s been wanting to for four months. “I missed you,” he murmurs over the skin of his neck, and of course he’d be the one to say it.

Yuri’s smile makes his face feel like the muscles of his cheeks are going to get cramped any minute. He can’t resist but to lean backwards just enough to take Otabek’s face in his hands and kiss him. It’s hasty and clumsy, like all of their first kisses, their teeth clash because they’re smiling too much and it causes them to look into each other’s eyes and laugh before trying again. This time their lips meet and mold seamlessly against each other. They’ve learned to not make the kisses too long when they’ve just met and are in public because they might not be able to stop, but that doesn’t stop them from letting the touch linger a little more than necessary.

When they part, they’re still smiling.

Yuri untangles his legs from around Otabek’s waist and he guides him down until his feet are touching the shiny floor of the airport.

“You’ve grown,” he notes, hand reaching to caress Yuri’s cheek. He can’t believe he’s finally in front of him, Yuri Plisetsky in the flesh, full resolution.

“Told ya,” he grins, head tilting a little to the side, “Maybe I’ll grow another inch and finally reach you.”

“Maybe,” Otabek murmurs, busying himself with letting his eyes wander over Yuri’s features, sharpened with age but still young-looking and incredibly beautiful, but a little obscured by the hood of his black hoodie.

The fact that he’s wearing his hood isn’t strange, he usually wears it no matter where he is, but something looks off and Otabek can’t accurately pinpoint what, until he realizes. He sees in Yuri’s eyes the exact moment he notices that Otabek knows. The blond stays still, a sly smile stretching on his lips, and lets him pull the hood down. Otabek’s eyes go wide.

“Surprise,” his grin says much more than words could ever begin to convey, as he lets Otabek’s brown eyes travel along his exposed jawline, his neck, his ears, all free from the golden locks of hair that were covering them the last time they saw each other.

Yuri’s hair is shorter than Otabek’s ever seen it. There’s still this bang that covers his right eye more often than not, but now there are strands that reach no further than Yuri’s ears, and only a couple extend long enough to barely brush the base of his neck. It’s new and refreshing and he looks so good , it suits him so well that Otabek thinks he may have just fallen in love all over again.

He has to look to the side, silently covering his lips with the back of his index finger.

Yuri’s grin is wider than ever.

“You like it”, he states. Judging by the way he’s been grinning like mad he most probably knew it even before Otabek saw him, but getting confirmation is good and he appreciates it.

“I always like you,” Otabek responds noncommittally. He never knew how much he needed short-haired Yuri until he saw it, and now he can’t get enough of it. His hands itch with the want to touch the short golden strands, and he promises to himself he’ll indulge once they get to his apartment.

There’s a moment when the only thing they do is look into each other’s eyes and smile, and then Yuri’s eyes and expression soften.

“I’m here,” he says, and Otabek barely catches it over all the chatting and the announcements made through the speakers of Almaty International Airport.

“Welcome home, Yura,” he takes his hand on his own and tugs, not needing anything else to have Yuri follow him. They pick up Yuri’s long forgotten suitcase and start walking together towards the exit.

"Come on,” he says, picking up the pace, “I’m starving and I really want to test that new mattress you were bragging about”.

Did anyone get the movie they were watching was The Bucket List? One of the characters writes “Kiss the most beautiful girl in the world” on the list, and I thought sappy Otabek would take advantage of that.

Also, Yuri’s cat name (Chopa) was taken from Yulia Lipnitskaya’s cat.

Insp for short-haired Yuri can be found in this post (first pic), with the credit to the author.

Oh and please please please, you have to listen to this audio of Yuri missing Otabek and leaving a voicemail for him, made by the wonderful, the talented, the one and only @yuratchka-speaks. When I first listened to it I felt like wow, this really complements my fic, because you’ve seen how my version of Yuri gets when he’s apart from his bf. So yeah, I had to link it here. The most precious voicemail you'll ever hear.

My favorite scene was probably the cooking-together-through-Skype, I'm a total sucker for domestic stuff. Also Chopa being a little shit and Yuri painting his nails. I loved writing this whole fic.

[beacon-of-chaos]

Defenders of Aura - A Battle Century G Campaign Diary

Session 11 As the Chinese march us out of the building, Ax passes out once more. This time, the GM runs a little flashback session, showing Ax's dream from when he was knocked out the first time. Ax looks around. He's in some kind of dark space. There are walls around him but it's hard to see. A form materialises in front of him. It's Adam Westfield. Adam: Well done. I'm impressed you made it this far. Adam taunts Ax and reveals that he was the reason we were all hired in the first place, as pawns in his little game. Spectre for his scientific genius, Fiona for her strength and lack of ambition, Sinclair due to his link with Sara, and Ax as a charming face for the team. Adam: A mediocre musician was the perfect choice. Ax: MEDIOCRE!? Ax rushes forward and attacks. Adam socks him in the jaw but Ax is able to counter with a nut shot. Ax then fires back with his new fire powers, but Adam is able to use an energy blast to counter it. Adam: Impressive, but I have far more power and knowledge than you. You can't defeat me. GM: You feel a presence. Something familiar, something that's been with you all along. Ax: ...Riggnarok? GM: Yes. Ax: I call to it. Ax makes his willpower roll easily and doesn't just call his mech, he transforms into it. Adam is still grinning but he looks uneasy. Ax: Can I use mech weapons to attack him now? GM: Of course! Sinclair: Anti-mecha cannon? Juyon: Adam would be a fraction of the size of the bullet! GM: Actually, Ax's mech is currently human sized. Ax: Works for me! Fire! Adam is blown away by the attack. Ax's vision wavers and the dream begins to fade. The next thing Ax sees is Spectre's fist coming towards him, shortly before he blacks out again. Back to the current timeline: The rest of us are on board a Chinese transport ship. We're not handcuffed, but Sinclair has been fitted with a jamming device that restricts his hacking abilities. Fair enough. We're sat in the hold, surrounded by troops. General Aishi is interrogating us about the info we just found on Adam. She asks for his location so they can try and capture him. We don't know, but Sinclair offers Sara's location from the tracking device he put on her mech. The General then offers us a deal if we agree to surrender to the Chinese forces. Fiona tells her in no uncertain terms that we won't surrender and she can eff off. The rest of the team enthusiatically agrees. Aishi shakes her head and exits, leaving us with the troopers. Fiona: Well, I think it's about time we got out of here! Sinclair: One portal, coming up! The android attempts to use his wormhole powers but the device used to scramble his wireless access detects the attempt and shocks him with a heavy burst of electricity. He falls inactive. Sinclair: Motherf- *bzzzz* The rest of the team get up and try to grab weapons from the troopers. This goes poorly as Fiona and Spectre both get knocked out by tasers. Juyon fares better, managing to get a few good hits in, but in the end five troopers pile up on him, all using their tasers to drop the plucky teen. Juyon: Typical Chinese cowardice! Ack! We all wake up (Ax included) in white plastic cells. Sinclair notices with horror that his hacking rig has been removed. However, there's another piece of tech hidden on his body. A small device hidden in his clothing. As he examines it, it sends him a message. ???: Help is coming. You can use this to unlock the doors. It seems to be a minature hacking device. Through it, Sinclair is able to access the door mechanicisms for the cells and let everyone out. We sneak through the prison until we come across a section where several guards have been knocked out. A character that can only be described as a cyborg ninja approaches us and says: Cyborg: Come with me if you want to live. Seems like a plan. Juyon, Fiona, and Spectre grab some weapons from the KO'd guards (apparantly gene-coded, but Sinclair hacks them too), while Ax sticks with his flame powers. We head through the facility, taking on small groups of guards. Spectre gets a good moment where he blasts a fuse box near a pair of guards, sending them flying. Eventually we get to the roof, discovering that the prison is in the centre of Neovara. Guess it got taken over after all. Our ninja buddy attaches a rope and we rappel down and out into the streets. Ninja man takes us to a hideout where the Neovaran resistance resides. It's a run down bar down a narrow alleyway. After we get in, the ninja takes off his helmet... GM: ...and a mass of floppy black hair spills out. Fiona: Oh no. GM: It's Zack Adani wearing an advanced battle suit! Fiona: UGH. Other rebel members include two members of Ax's band: Yuri and Iron Eddie; Ajhani, the teenaged hacker; Fiare, the naul mage; and David Washington, the leader of Alpha Team. We spend some time speaking with them on an individual basis. Yuri and Eddie haven't heard from the rest of the band since the attack. Ajhani reveals that she was the one who put the device on Sinclair's clothes, hoping to use him as tool to get better internet access. David tells us that he lost the rest of his team in the fighting. Accoring to Fiare, he's been drunk ever since. She helps Ax heal up after his ordeal, but says that his body may not be able to handle the biofuel much longer, like he's burning out too fast. Ax asks if he's going to die but Fiare doesn't seem sure. It's like his life force is being replaced with something else. We need to come up with a plan. Zack tells us that our mechs are being held in the Neovaran military base, now a Chinese stronghold. This seems like a good place to start. David also tells us that Nina was captured and that we should try to get her out. He offers to come with us, but it's clear that he's in no condition to assist. We're going to infiltrate the base disguised as maintenance people. We make a list of things we need, including disguises and a truck. Iron Eddie pops up, tells us he's on it, and vanishes again. Ax tells us that Eddie, the band's roadie, is a man of few words but can always get stuff done. Apparantly he just showed up at a gig one day, face covered with scarf and goggles, and began helping out. No one questioned it. Sure enough, Eddie is back within a couple of hours with the truck and disguises. We ask no questions. The plan is to drive into the compound through the service entrance, then use Sinclair's wormhole generator to teleport into the mech bay where our mechs are being held. Ajhani warns that the Chinese may have already put their own systems in place so hacking may be difficult. We'll have to avoid being seen on cameras, rather than disable them. Once we've got our mechs, Fiare will aid Sinclair in warping us to the Argo, currently the only ship left in the Auran fleet. The next day, we make our way through the eerily quiet streets towards the base. We're stopped by guards who check our credentials. There's a tense moment when they scan Sinclair for his ID number, but he is able to hack the scanner just in time to put the team on the schedule. We move slowly through the compound, parking up around the side in a surveilance blind spot. Sinclair scans the surveilance to find that the Chinese have installed their own operating system over the old one. A rough job, but it means effectively hacking through two layers, both of which may activate alarms. We decide not to risk it yet and portal through the wall. Inside, we find ourselves in a store room near the mech hanger. A couple of guards block our way but they haven't seen us so Juyon and Fiona are able to take them down. David Washington radios us, asking us again to look for Nina. We have no way of getting to the detention centre without being spotted, so Sinclair and Fiona attempt to get access to the cameras to search for her. A couple of crit successes later (with help from Ax's leadership skill) and we have access to the entire facility. We get a camera on Nina. She's in a cell, battered and bruised and her hair has been shaven off. Sinclair patches the intercom through to her. Sinclair: Nina, it's me, Sinclair. can you hear me? We're in the base. Nina: ...You've tried that one already. Fiona: No, really, it's us. We snuck in. Nina: They've already gotten the codes out of me. Everything is theirs now. Sinclair: If I can unlock the door for you, can you get out on your own? Nina: ...Yes. I'll create a distraction. We unlock the door remotely and Nina darts out, grabs a gun from a guard before he can react and kills him and two others easily. She escapes, making her way towards the munitions store, planning to create an explosion. Meanwhile, we break into the mech hanger to look for our robots. We notice our mechs, along with Adam's and the strange monster we fought, the fleshy parts gone leaving only a metal frame. Unfortunately there are also two guard mechs patrolling around, perhaps expecting us. Ax gives us a look that says "I got this" and summons Riggnarok directly into the hanger. Fiona: Holy **** Ax, that's awesome! The guards are too surprised to react before Ax blasts them (While Sinclair plays "Invaders Must Die" through the tannoy). It's at this point that we hear an explosion ring out (Nina works fast!) so we head to our mechs. Before we head out, Sinclair attempts to access the records on Adam's mech to see if we can find out where he's gone. Unfortunely he fails the check and all he gets is a gif of Adam's laughing face. Sinclair curses that he was out-hacked, but it sounds like he doesn't have time to try again. There are more explosions and Fiare tells us that the entire place is about to blow. We get the warp coordinates from her and jump through a wormhole to the Argo. We have just enough time to register the smiling face of Eric greeting us before the explosion comes through the portal. Session ends with the GM cruelly laughing about the fact that we didn't say we were closing the portal behind us, despite never having needed to before. Git.

[askdawnandvern]

A Lamb Among Wolves CH:3

Chapter Three: All Stood Up

The Rainbow Falls train station is known by Zootopia at large as 'The Gateway to the Meadowlands'." While there are many routes by car or on foot to venture into Zootopia's more northern districts, there is a significant lack of subway lines that venture beyond the steep mountains that separate the north and south. Some mammals chalk it up to the difficulties involved in mountain tunneling, while others believe it is due to the lack of economic incentive to tying The Meadowlands and Alpine Glade to the more bustling districts. Despite their relative size, the population is significantly smaller than the rest of Zootopia, and so difficult to build subway lines that would be rarely used and hard to maintain could be seen as a waste of money. The eventual answer to the transit problem was the creation of the "Rainbow Falls Rail Line", An above ground train that passes through the sole valley between the northern range into the upper districts. The line encompasses the North and South Meadowlands, Alpine Glade, and the northern outskirts of Zootopia. While not the only route, it is certainly the fastest for any traveler seeking to relax in the sprawling borderline country the Meadowlands has to offer.

Needless to say, visiting home was always more of a chore than Vernon thought it should be. With all the transfers and pick-ups it could become rather grating rather fast. It was at times like this he wished his family lived far enough away to simply visit by plane.

For Vernon the walk over to the Rainbow Falls station from the Haymarket terminal had been uneventful compared to the subway ride, but tiring none the less. The trip was always tiring, but it hadn't helped that the wolf had a rather rough nights sleep. After waking up to find Dawn nervously typing away on her laptop and attempting to ease her back to a comfortable sleep, the wolf was left to ponder over his own growing dread over the whole reunion affair. He wasn't nearly as nervous as Dawn, but was keeping up a brave front for her sake. Any show of weakness or worry might help spur the timid ewe into a full blown panic and that was the last thing he wanted. But as he lay there in the dark of the bedroom, cuddled up with his Honey Lamb, he couldn't help but ruminate on some of the ways the trip could go south.

His largest fear was having to deal with his brother Yuri. Vernon's Mother had already confirmed he would be showing up this year, along with Ada his Hyena mate. Yuri had always been a troublemaker, and that was saying something when Vernon reflected on his own muddied past. He always knew the perfect words to say to get under your pelt, a skill he had only honed with time. There was a snowballs chance in Sahara Square that Yuri was going to keep his yap shut when it came to Dawn. He was most definitely going to spend the entirety of the trip tormenting the lamb. If Vernon could barely contain the urge to hit him under normal circumstances, this was going to be a true test of willpower.

With Yuri he could only pray that at the very least the rest of the family would call him out on it, but that was rare. Most of them preferred to just try to ignore him. So if the wolf pushed Dawn too hard, it was going to be up to Vernon to push him back and keep Dawn's spirits up.

The other somewhat major concern was how his Father was going to react to Dawn. Much like Vernon's Mother, Dorian knew Dawn was coming as well as exactly who she was. But how he was going to handle it was another story. While Dorian was mostly easygoing, there were point of contentions with the older wolf which he refused to budge on. He could be stubborn at times, and his beliefs about certain issues were often set in stone. Vernon could remember the push back he got when he told Dorian he was going to study to become an architect rather than a police officer. Even now, despite Vernon having a position in the Architecture Department in City Hall his Father still believed that he would 'come around' and join the force.

Dorian's feelings on interspecies couples were reasonable, but with that came his staunch distaste and disgust for anything relating to prey or predator supremacy and the criminals who've worked to perpetuate such notions. Dawn's history with Night Howler, despite her best attempts to make up for it might not count for anything in his Father's eyes. But Vernon reassured himself that once he met Dawn, and could sense her sincerity as he did, that it would be all water under the bridge. At least, Vernon hoped. There were other concerns of course. Would his other brothers behave? how would their mates get along with Dawn? But they paled in comparison to those two looming issues which the thought of managed to steal enough sleep from the wolf to create the need nap on the subway, and even that hadn't quite been enough.

Vernon rubbed his eyes as he stumbled onto the busy train platform at Rainbow Falls, letting out a dull yawn as he dropped his green duffle bag to the floor. The wolf again stretched in a desperate attempt to wake himself up, before turning to the ewe he had in tow. Vernon had also been pulling Dawn's roller suitcase along. The ewe's suitcase easily doubled the size of Vernon's own bag, and was actually larger than Dawn herself. Despite the size it was an easy carry for Vernon, and he playfully insisted that the ewe seat herself on it and he would carry her up to the station which she agreed to gleefully. To the wolf it was worth it just to keep looking back and catching her silly grin as she enjoyed the ride.

"Last stop, everybody off." He chuckled.

Dawn beamed as she hopped of the suitcase, allowing Vernon to stand it up.

"Did you enjoy the ride my Queen?" Vernon grinned, his words laced with playful sarcasm.

The ewe gave the wolf a dull and un-amused stare.

"It was acceptable, now bring me a cluster of grapes as I have grown hungry." Dawn leaned her hoof on her head, feigning helplessness before breaking into a laugh.

"No, it was delightful."  She smiled weakly before faltering into a look of concern.

"Are you okay Vernon? You seem awfully tired." She asked. "Maybe carrying me was to-"

"Nah." The wolf assured. "I'm fine, I'm fine. You know I'm not a morning mammal." He snickered.

Despite his assurance, the concerned look didn't fully leave Dawn's face. As the ewe went to open her mouth, Vernon decided it was best to change the topic to the task at paw.

"Welp, let's see if we can spot Wade and his girl." Vernon sighed, turning his attention to the bustling stampede of mammals.

The wolf craned his head over the bustling crowd as best as he could to make out hide or hair of the dowdy grey little wolf that was his older brother Wade. The wolf was supposed to be already waiting for them, if the text Vernon had received a few minutes ago was anything to go by. Still he was having a hard time picking him out of the crowd.

"See him yet?" He heard Dawn over the murmur of the crowd.

"Nah." Vernon said, squinting as he held his paw over his eyes to block the glimmers of sun peering through the canopy overhead. "Shouldn't be to hard to find in his off duty clothes."

"Why, does he dress weird?" Dawn half shouted as the din of the crowed grew.

Vernon turned back to Dawn, crouching down to better hear her.

"No, but he always wears this hideous 'Tundratown Terrors' Baseball cap. He loves that thing." Vernon chuckled. "It's practically a rag at this point, but that bright blue should stand out like a sore thumb in all this."

"Why not try looking for him by finding his mate?" Dawn asked. "It's not exactly hard to find a giraffe right?"

The wolf hadn't thought of that. Wade had only been dating the cow for about a month now, and so Vernon hadn't become fully accustomed to associating the two. Vernon stood back up, glancing over the crowd again. He looked from side to side before crouching back down.

"There's about seven or eight giraffes walking around here. That narrows it down, but not by much." He gave the ewe a shrug.

"So call her over." Dawn replied. "W-what was her name, G-g-" Dawn scratched her chin, clearly trying to eke out the name.

"Giselle." Vernon stated.

"Yeah Giselle." Dawn clapped. "So just call her over and I'm sure Wade will be with her.

Vernon stood back up, giving the crowd another brief glance. With a deep breath, the wolf placed a paw to his mouth and began to call out.

"GISELLE!?" The wolf's eyes darted from long speckled neck to long speckled neck.

"GISELLE ZARAFáH!?" Again he called, adding the cow's last name. But not a single giraffe paid the wolf a single mind. Vernon got a few odd stares as the crowd continued to move around the couple, which he simply shrugged off.

"GIS-"

"EASY THERE PUPPY!" Vernon felt a firm paw grasp his arm, and turned to find Wade standing right next him. "You could have just called out to me you know." Wade chuckled nervously.

Wade was a somewhat smaller wolf than Vernon, as well as somewhat leaner. His physique clearly a reflection of a mammal who had to keep up at least a modest regiment in order to perform his job. His grey fur matched Vernon's, but lacked the white around the eyes and neck. He was dressed in the kind of worn out clothes Vernon expected. An old The Beagles' tee under a worn padded green fishermen's vest and blue jeans. And on top of it all off he was wearing the hideous blue hat Vernon had come to know quite well. The contrast between the shaggy, worn and faded sports cap and Wade's cloudy blue eyes was something the wolf seemed to think was a real eye-catcher when it came to 'the ladies'. Vernon agreed, but for entirely different reasons.

"Wade!" Vernon pulled the wolf into a hug and squeezed tightly. Between the Hunters, hugs were almost as much of a test of strength as a sign of affection. "Good to see ya! "

He could feel his brother's grip weaken first, signifying Vernon had bested him at the art of the brotherly hug before pulling away.

"Still wearing that old thing huh?" Vernon tapped the brim of is brother's cap.

Wade backed away from the rough prodding, caressing the brim affectionately with his own paw.

"Of course, I can't go to the reunion without this bad boy." Wade smirked.

"You remember Dawn." Vernon gestured to his beloved little ewe.

"Oh of course, eh." Wade scratched the back of his head. "Howdy again Ms. Bellwether."

Wade crouched slightly, extending his paw to the lamb. Dawn smiled, shaking Wade's hand gently.

"Wade, I told you before. You can just call me Dawn." She chuckled.

In the time that Vernon and Dawn had officially become an item, Wade had visited with the couple at least three or four times. He and Dawn had already formally met sometime ago when Wade took the three out to lunch roughly a week or so after Dawn got out of the hospital. Every time they had gotten together things seemed to go well, although Vernon noticed that Wade was rather stiff and awkward around the ewe. He wasn't sure whether this was due to Dawn's history, or Wade's natural awkwardness around prey-folk. Vernon knew Wade was somewhat fearful of scaring innocent prey.

"OH!, Yeah, sorry Dawn." Wade replied, wincing has he released her hoof.

"So where's Giselle?" Wade jumped slightly at Vernon's question, earning him a curious glance.

"Yes, yes, I can't wait to meet her." Dawn added.

"Oh...well um, she's." Wade looked over the crowd briefly. "She's around."

Wade seemed jumpier than usual. His eyes seemed to be darting around nervously, and he kept wincing in discomfort. Vernon knew something was up, and was about to ask about it when Dawn cut him off.

"Oh! You know what, I should get us all something to drink at that Snarlbucks stall before we get on the train to up north." The ewe smiled widely as she turned to Vernon.

"Puppy, what do you want?" She asked.

"Oh, tiger size black coffee, and just bring a whole bunch of sugars. I think I need the extra pep today." Vernon engaged Dawn, but continued to dart his eyes between his twitchy brother and the sheep.

"What about you Wade?" Dawn turned to face the other wolf. "You can order for Giselle right?"

Wade winced again.

"Erm..." Wade's voice cracked. " We're fine, U-um I mean-" The wolf coughed,  running a paw over his scalp. "Nothing for us I mean."

It was at this point Wade seemed to notice Vernon's stare, and the wolf could swear he saw Wade visibly gulp.

"Well, okay." Dawn seemed slightly disappointed. "I'll just get our drinks then." She flashed Vernon a final smile before taking off into the crowd toward the distant stall. With the ewe now out of sight, and definitely out of hearing range Vernon allowed his curious glance to fall into a more agitated glare. Now he was sure Wade was hiding something bad, and it was best to confront it now rather than let Wade hang himself.

"Alright spill it Wade." Vernon said bluntly.

"W-what!?" Wade jumped, taking a step back from the larger wolf.

"What's the bad news?" Vernon crossed his arms.

"I don't th-"

"Wade, we both know you are a terrible liar. That's why they never let you grill suspects." Vernon cut him off. "The quicker you get it out the easier it will be, so tell me."

Wade's head drooped in shame as he let out a prolonged and disappointed sigh.

"I-" Wade shook his head. "Giselle isn't coming along."

Vernon simply stared through the wolf. There was no way he had heard him correctly.

"What?' Vernon asked in disbelief.

"S-she's." Wade shrugged. "She couldn't make it this time around. I'm sorry, I-it was out of my paws."

Vernon could feel his stomach drop. This was not happening. Wade and Giselle were part of Vernon's deflection plan when it came to bringing Dawn home for the Harvest Festival. With both of them coming home with prey mates, the attention would be split between them giving both couples a bit of breathing room.

Without Giselle the pressure was going to fall solely on Dawn and Vernon, they being the only 'new' couple in attendance. While it would be annoying, Vernon was sure he could endure the scrutiny. But he was more worried about Dawn, and how she would fair under the constant spotlight of the Hunter brood.

"W-Wade." Vernon stammered slightly. The wolf glanced back toward the stall in an effort to spot the wayward ewe. He wiped his brow briefly before turning back to his brother.

"What are you t-telling me right now?" Vernon asked again. Hoping desperately for a different answer.

"It was a family emergency, she couldn't help-"

Vernon grasped his brother by the shoulders, giving him a slight shake.

"W-wade, Dawn is really worried about this." Vernon gulped. "I-I'm worried too, but I've been keeping a positive attitude for her sake." he shook his head. "I mean less worried, but still.."

Vernon allowed his head to hang in exasperation.  The floor seemed to spin as he tried to focus on the tile to get his bearings. With no real success the wolf looked back up at Wade.

"You were supposed to help us break the ice!" Vernon shook him with more vigor, nearly knocking his cap off. "With you and Giselle the family wouldn't focus so hard on me and Dawn."

"I know bu-"

"You two were supposed to keep them from dog-piling her!"

"I k-know I'm sorry, It can't be helped!" Wade stammered back.

Vernon released his brother, sighing as he placed a palm over his face.

"I don't want them to end up hurting her by accident." He drew his paw back over his scalp. "What if they grill her on her past she doesn't want to relive? She's technically an ex-con." Vernon shook his head.

"W-well she's not a child Vernon...I mean if they do talk about it-" Wade trailed off.

Vernon let out another sigh, slouching his shoulders in defeat.

"I know, I ju-" Vernon shook his head again. " I want her to have a good time, to feel welcome. I want them to get to know the Dawn I know, you know?" He eyed Wade pleadingly.

Wade nodded softly.

"How the hell am I gonna break this to her?" Vernon asked.

"Break what to who?" Vernon's blood froze. The wolf tried to turn toward the voice, but his body failed to move. Only his eyes managed to shift to the source of the call, falling on a familiar ewe holding a drink tray. Vernon grimaced.

"H-hey Honey Lamb." Despite his best efforts, the sentence came out shaky. "T-that was fast."

"Well they weren't that busy." Dawn smiled. The ewe raised the tray toward Vernon, the cup clearly too large for her to hand off on her own.

Vernon gingerly took the large cup from the tray, flashing Dawn a weak smile.

"Thanks Darlin'." Vernon grabbed a hand full of sugar packets off the tray as Dawn took it back.

"Oh, get this!" Dawn clasped at her purse with a free arm, giving it a jostle. "I got a text from Judy while waiting at the stall. Turns out Nick and her are heading out to Bunnyburrow for a festival too."

"R-really?" Vernon gulped slightly. "Same kind?"

"I think so, although she said it was called 'Carrot Days' or something." The ewe shrugged. "I think it's the same thing with a different name. But it's nice to know I'm not the only one meeting their mates family this weekend."

"I wonder how the Hopps will take that one." Vernon murmured.

"From what I heard they already met Nick, and Judy's Mother knows, but I'm not sure about her Dad." Dawn said.

"Good luck Mr.Hopps." Vernon smirked as he popped the lid off of his coffee. Even though Vernon and the fox were on somewhat acceptable terms, the wolf could only stand dealing with him in small doses. So Vernon couldn't began to imagine what having Nick as an in-law would be like. Vernon shuddered at the thought before pouring a few of the sugar packets into his piping hot coffee. As he idly stirred his drink, he decided to shift the conversation to the train before the ewe brought the conversation back to the missing giraffe.

"Well, we should probably get to the train. It should be heading out soon." Vernon muttered.

"What about Giselle?" Vernon dropped the new packet he was opening as Dawn spoke. He felt like an idiot. Of course, how could he avoid the subject of Wade's absent date as they boarded the train without her? Bringing up the need to get to the train was only going to beg the question. The wolf let out a defeated sigh. There was no way out of this, they had come to far to go back. Much like getting Wade to spill the beans, it was best to just get the truth out as quickly as possible. But Vernon was damned if he was going to be the one to bring her down. Vernon glanced at his brother, gesturing his head toward the ewe.

"Well, this is your fault, so why don't you tell my lovely little lamb the bad news." Vernon grumbled, taking a sip of his powerfully bitter coffee as he eyed Wade.

"My fault!?" Wade sputtered. "It was a f-" Vernon watched Wade turn to Dawn as the words died in his throat. Dawn was eyeing them both in utter confusion.

"What is going on?" Dawn asked. The ewe took a sip of her decidedly more frilly coffee drink, leaving a small dollop of whipped cream on her muzzle. "Did something happen?"

"Tell her Wade." Vernon gestured to the ewe again.

Wade scratched the back of his head. The wolf gave Vernon another unsure glance, only for Vernon to respond by once again gesturing toward Dawn.

"Well..." Wade muttered, seemingly struggling to get the words out. "I-I uh-."

Vernon could see the desperation in Wade's eyes as they continually glanced between him and Dawn. He knew just how much Wade hated making mammals unhappy, it was part of the reason why he ended up falling into a mediation role among the Hunter Brothers. Despite how agitated he was at Wade at the moment, the pity he felt for the stammering wolf inevitably overrode it.

Vernon sighed. "Giselle isn't coming Lamb Fry." Vernon stated bluntly as he crouched down to Dawn's level.

"W-what?" Dawn asked in shock.

Vernon gently wiped the little dab of whipped cream off Dawn's muzzle before gently caressing her face.

"I'm sorry Dawn, apparently she had a family emergency come up and she can't come along." The wolf's ears sagged. "So it's just us."

The ewe was silent for a moment, staring at the wolf in clear disbelief.

"T-that...really? She's n-not coming?" Dawn stammered.

"I'm sorry Floofs. I-"Vernon's slowly shook his head, but it became faster and more vigorous as he began to rethink the whole scenario. Despite the fact that he wanted Dawn to meet his family, with the sudden change in circumstance it would be unfair to ask Dawn to simply press on. They hadn't come too far to go back, and it was probably better if they turned tail now for Dawn's sake. Maybe they could meet his folks some other time, without the rest of the Hunter clan in tow.

"If you want me to just cancel this and we can go home, I ca-"

"N-no." Dawn stuttered.

Vernon eyed the ewe in surprise.

"Dawn, we don't have to-"

Dawn placed her coffee down and grabbed the sides of Vernon's muzzle, keeping his eyes trained on her. He could see a determination burning behind her shining lime green orbs.

"I'm not going to run away! I'm ready to do this!" Dawn stated firmly.

Vernon was shocked, but it didn't last long before a smile crawled across his muzzle and a chuckle escaped his maw.

"You absolutely sure now?" He grinned.

Dawn released his face, and as she picked up her coffee she gave the wolf a firm and decisive nod.

"Well, ain't she a tough little ball of fluff." Wade remarked.

As Vernon rose to his feet he flashed his brother a smug grin.

"Now don't you go getting too jealous, she's mine." Vernon said.

Dawn beamed in response, fluttering her eyes at Vernon affectionately. Wade let out an uneasy laugh before turning his attention to the rising din around the train station.

"Welp, we better get moving. Don't want to miss the train." Wade said.

Vernon began to cobble up the suitcases, doing his best to keep his coffee from spilling onto himself.

"Yeah, yeah, but don't think you're off the hook about Giselle. I expect a full explanation of this 'family emergency' on our ride out." Vernon stated as he began to dutiful march toward the train.

"Don't say it like that! You know I wouldn't lie about something so serious!" Wade retorted. Vernon could hear Dawn giggle.

It didn't take very long to get settled on the train. After helping Dawn up to her seat, Vernon stowed his duffle on the shelf above them and set the ewe's rolling case between his legs. Settling into his seat, he watched his brother wade sling his satchel bag on the seat next to him before sitting across from the pair. Wade still looked fairly uncomfortable, unable to properly meet Vernon's gaze whenever he looked his way. Dawn seemed alright on the surface, but Vernon could tell by the way she had latched on to his arm that she was still processing what the absence of Giselle spelled for the pair. The awkward and uneasy silence permeated until the train finally started moving. Wade began to watch the platform slide away from the window before finally finding the courage to speak.

"It really was last minute you know." Wade muttered.

"Hmm?" Vernon replied.

"Like it happened this morning." Wade finally managed to meet Vernon's gaze.

The wolf sighed, taking a sip of his pungent coffee. He could feel it starting to work it's magic as the groggy haze began to fade.

"Alright, so what happened." Vernon asked.

"Her father got into a car accident." Wade stated.

"Oh my goodness!" Dawn yelped. "Is he-"

Wade gestured for the pair to calm down. "Easy, easy! When I say car accident, it was only sort of one."

Vernon was so thrown off by Wade's description an odd chuckle escaped his muzzle.

"How does a mammal 'sort of' have a car accident Wade?" Vernon shook his head in disbelief.

"Well..." Wade scratched his head. "See it's like this."

"Giselle's Father is getting into his forties now, and he's kind of working through a mid-life crisis." Wade stated.

Vernon failed to suppress another snicker. He didn't want to laugh at the situation, but a mammal suffering from a mid-life crisis always seemed to lead to hilarious antics in a desperate attempt to feel young again. Vernon could already picture a slightly balding mammal in a shiny new sports car, trying desperately to come off as cool or hip. Although he had a hard time imagining a balding giraffe. After all, such a mammal was so tall how could one even check his hairline?

"Recently he bought a new car, some shiny open top sports car with red and black giraffe printing." Wade continued.

"Ha, I knew it!" Vernon smirked before feeling a jab at his side. Glancing down the wolf found Dawn eyeing him with slight irritation.

"Hush Puppy, let him finish." She chided.

"Thank you." Wade muttered.

Vernon turned back to his brother, nodding at him to continue.

"Well...he was on his way to work this morning in the new car. He had the top down, and was driving way faster than he should have been." Wade sighed. "While chatting on his cell phone no less."

Vernon simply nodded, keeping his face as stoic as he could.

"That's illegal isn't it?" Now Dawn was interrupting Wade.

"Yes, definitely." Wade nodded. "Anyway, he wasn't paying attention and turned onto the wrong road. Are you both familiar with Pack  Street?"

Vernon simply nodded.

"Wait a minute, Pack Street?" Dawn asked. "That road isn't zoned for large mammal traffic."

"Exactly." Wade pointed at Dawn. So he's speeding with his top down, and he doesn't realize the lamp posts on Pack Street are lower than on his usual route, and so-"

"Oh no!" Dawn gasped.

"He hit a lampost?" Vernon inquired.

"More like the lamp post hit him." Wade drew his paw up to his throat, gingerly bringing it against his neck. "Poor guy clothes-lined himself going fifty miles an hour."

"Sweet Sawgrass, is he alright?" Vernon murmured in shock.

"He bruised his trachea, and did some pretty heavy damage to his larynx. But Giselle texted me that he'll recover." Wade sighed. "Still she wanted to stay until he was discharged, so that messed up the whole weekend plan."

"Well, maybe she could still join us after he gets out?" Vernon asked hopefully.

Wade shook his head dismissively. "That's pretty unlikely, the poor guy isn't even awake yet. They'll probably keep him till at least Monday."

Vernon heard Dawn let out a sigh before feeling her lean harder into him. Looking back at her he could see she felt bad for Giselle's Father, but there was still the hint of lingering fear painted on her face. Vernon gently patted the poof on her head in an effort to put her at ease.

"Hey Honey Lamb?" Dawn managed to look up at him, her once determined glare looking a little more shaky and unsure. "Remember what I said, if anything goes wrong we'll leave. You're my top priority." Vernon gave her a reassuring smile.

"There's really nothing to worry about." Wade added. "I can tell already Ma is going to love you."

"R-really?" Dawn mumbled, now turning her attention to Wade.

"Oh yeah, trust me." Wade smiled. "Your probably got the best shot out of all of the girls at getting along with her. I may not have known you for too long, but you remind me a lot of Ma."

"Let's not be to hasty there Wade." Vernon chuckled uneasily, the wolf was slightly averse to the idea of comparing Dawn to his Mother.

"Nah I can see it. Dawn's gentle and kind. But she can be surprisingly tough when it comes down to it. I mean look at what she did at the Wine Factory. Ma would have done something like that if she were in Dawn's hooves." Wade gestured to Dawn.

"Wade, that's so sweet. Thank you." Dawn smiled.

Despite the fact that Vernon didn't really want to acknowledge any similarities between his Mother and the ewe he planned on marrying, he couldn't help but smile at Wade's sudden praise of her. This was the most outspoken he'd seen Wade be over what he really thought about Dawn, even in private talks with Vernon.

"I just...I had to fight for the ones I loved. I couldn't let Ver-" Dawn shook her head briskly. "I mean everyone get hurt because of me. I just..." Dawn paused. "I did what I had to."

"And that's exactly how Ma is." Wade assured. "She gets tough when it comes to those she loves." Wade smiled.

"And I think you've shown us just how much you love 'ol Puppy over there, so of course she'll love ya." Wade gestured to the larger wolf.

Vernon laughed. "That's true." He pulled the lamb into a side hug.

"You two both love me, so ya got that much in common." Vernon grinned.

"I don't know..." Dawn muttered. "I mean...I can't give her grandpups or anything like that."

"Neither can the rest of us." Wade chuckled. "'Cept for maybe Ulric..." He trailed off. "Or me if things don't work out with Giselle." The wolf place his hands on his knees. "I suppose if worst came to worst Ma and Pop would just have to have more pups of their own."

"What about your Dad?" Dawn asked innocently. "Surely he'd mind me being with Vernon."

Wade's grin faltered slightly. "W-well I think he'd take to you just fine." He coughed awkwardly. "I-I mean he knows a good mammal when he sees one, I mean w-we all do don't we Vern?"

Vernon nodded weakly, but inside his previous fears came rolling back to the forefront. Just how was his Father going to handle Dawn? Would he be able to look past her previous transgressions and see that she was truly changed? Vernon gulped slightly at the thought, the last thing he wanted was his Father to hurt her. It was apparent that Dawn was probably thinking the same thing as he felt her grip around his arm tighten.

"W-what about the others?" Dawn mumbled.

The grin quickly returned to Wade's face. "Oh the other brothers? You got nothing to worry about." Wade prattled off. "They're mostly harmless and anything they do that's outta turn their ladies will keep them in-line."

"You won't even meet most of them till tomorrow anyway." Vernon shrugged. "Zach and Vanna are the only ones who live near the ranch. The rest of 'em live to far away to make the trip in one day."

"Yeah, so you'll get a chance to settle in and get to know all of us a little bit at a time." Wade added. "That way it won't be so overwhelming, you know?"

Vernon could feel the tension in Dawn's grasp begin to ease. While the plan to distract the family with Wade and Giselle had fallen through, at the very least Wade was good at helping Vernon keep the ewe calm. The better Dawn felt, the better Vernon did.

"T-that sounds good." Dawn mumbled.

"That'a girl." Vernon smiled, squeezing Dawn into another hug. "I told you everything will be okay."

Dawn smiled back up at the wolf a genuine smile, free of any lingering hint of fear. Vernon could feel his heart flutter at the sight. Seeing the ewe smile was something that could never get old for him. As Vernon turned his attention to the mountains rolling past the windows he took a sip of his now repulsively cold coffee, and for a brief moment he felt as though everything was back on track.

--------------------------------------------

Zootopia won best animated feature at the Oscars! Woo! Congrats to the whole team. Also some people pointed out getting clothes-lined by a lampost at (70 miles an hour in the first draft) 50 miles would kill someone. I lowered to fifty afterwards, but my reasoning is we have a giraffe with larger and stronger neck muscles hitting a smaller lamppost that immediately fell apart on impact wouldn’t kill the giraffe. I don’t know I’m probably wrong...maybe I should just re-write that part.

-WT 

[sneezehq]

hi i was the anon who sent in an ask to feelingalittlesick! i was wondering if youd be willing to write something where yurio has been overworking himself leading up to a competition and sort of collapses/faints from exhaustion back in the locker room? like everyone else is watching the current skater on the little screens and he just. hits the floor. (optional bonus points for doting big sister mila)

I absolutely love this prompt! Also, thanks for giving me the opportunity to write for Mila! She deserves more love. This is set post-series. Enjoy!

Ever since Victor had made his return to competitive skating, Yuri has been pushing himself harder than ever. He’s stopped taking breaks during practice, and he’s been sneaking out to train at night. Mila can tell by the bags under his eyes and the way he’s way crankier than usual.

Still, she doesn’t tell Yakov. He’d just yell at Yuri, which in turn will make the teenager ten times more stubborn. Instead, she she keeps a careful eye on him, making sure to slip him snacks and distracting everyone when Yuri drifts off during team meetings or movie nights. If she can’t get him to stop, she can at least do her best to help him keep his strength up.

But sheer adrenaline and willpower can only hold out for so long.

The Russian Nationals are a big deal this year, with all four of them competing this year. Yuri is more determined than ever, and he and Victor have been squabbling since they arrived over who is going to take gold.

Yuri’s routines are beautiful as always, but Mila is honestly unsure how he’s still going at this point. He hasn’t slept much since they arrived; he’s running on nothing but fumes. Still, he skates his heart out in the short program and places second, with only Victor in front of him. Georgi takes third, and Yakov seems pleased with his progress (well, as pleased as Yakov ever is). Mila herself is sitting in first.

If Yuri’s Agape routine was impressive, his free skate is absolutely breathtaking. There’s no sign of tiredness, each jump and spin is precise and graceful. As soon as he gets off the ice and out of the kiss and cry, Yuri seems to slump in on himself. He’s trembling slightly, and Mila tentatively suggests that he sits down while they watch Victor perform.

He vehemently rejects her offer, insisting on staying standing. His free skate had been a new personal best; Yuri must be anxious to know if he’s going to win.

They’re all focused intently on the screen, completely unaware of anything else happening around them, when a soft thump makes Mila crane her head around to look for the source. “Yuri!” she gasps, horrified.

Yuri’s lack of sleep has apparently caught up to him, because he’s lying collapsed in the middle of the floor. Mila rushes over to his side, carefully maneuvering him so that his head is in her lap.

“What happened?” Georgi says, finally noticing what just happened.

“He passed out,” Mila explains, trying to sound less terrified than she feels. “Can you grab him some water?”

Georgi hurries off obediently. As soon as he’s gone, Yuri starts to stir, opening his eyes and trying to sit up. “Don’t try to get up yet,” Mila scolds him.

Hazy green eyes slowly focus on her face. “Mila?” Yuri croaks out. “What happened?”

“You fainted, probably because you’re so exhausted you can barely stand.” Mila isn’t trying to sound harsh, but this has been going on for way too long.

“I didn’t faint,” Yuri protests weakly. “And leave me alone, I’m fine.”

“You’re definitely not fine,” Mila retorts. “I know about your late-night practice sessions. I’m starting to think that I should tell Yakov.”

“What? No! He’ll just yell at me and ban me from skating.”

“That might be for the best,” Mila points out, relenting a little when Yuri shoots her a sour look. “Fine, I won’t tell him. But only on one condition: you stop pushing yourself so hard and start getting some sleep.”

“Okay, fine,” Yuri whines, grudgingly accepting Mila’s help in standing up and moving to a nearby chair.

“You really had me worried there, you know,” Mila comments, ruffling Yuri’s hair.

“Whatever,” Yuri mumbles, his cheeks going red. He eagerly takes the water from Georgi when he returns.

“So, what happened earlier?” Georgi asks anxiously. “That was scary!”

“Oh, he was just tired,” Mila explains. “The adrenaline wore off, you know the feeling.”

“I’m feeling better now though, so no need to tell Coach Yakov,” Yuri adds hastily. Mila might be annoying, but deep down, Yuri knows that she cares. Whatever. He’s definitely good enough to kick Victor’s ass at Worlds, even without his extra practice sessions.