#was hoping to work more on linking charms during the evenings but im so exhausted 🤕

[kurapixel]

[jesterwriting]

characters: vampire!shanks x gn!human!reader x vampire!mihawk

contents: flirting, reader is old enough to have wrinkles, seemingly unrequited love, communication issues, an entire decade of pining, shanks sleeps around a lot, also spreading my bisexual shanks agenda, reader is oblivious and i mean oblivious, jealous shanks, meddling mihawk, you could make the case that shanks is an a jerk and id agree, its not on purpose hes just an idiot

word count: 3.4k words

note: happy late halloween!! i meant to finish this yesterday, but i was so exhausted after my trip to the amusement park, i needed a day to recover. plus, this was a lot to write. im excited it's finally done though, ive been sitting on this for a while now :33 i hope all who read enjoy this. theres some things left unsaid by the end of this, i do wanna do a part two though hehe

playlist: lust for a vampyr - i monster

When the sun rose, it was time for the humans of Red-Haired Shanks’ crew to work.

It was a simple arrangement, one that was built on necessity rather than any need for control. As the majority of the ship were unable to step into the sun, Captain Shanks included, human familiars were needed to keep things running in tip-top shape during the day. The idea was: if you work for Shanks for a few years, or prove your worth, in time, you would be turned. Eternal life was quite the sell, especially if it meant centuries of adventure under the Red-Haired Pirate’s jolly roger. It drew countless humans to a life of piracy.

That wasn’t what enticed you, though.

You were happy as a human. The idea of drinking blood and never feeling the warmth of the sun did not appeal to you. What drew you in was the natural charisma of your captain. His voice, his presence, his charm, you fell victim to it all. After one night at a bar together, you knew you would follow him to the ends of the earth, all he needed to do was ask.

And ask, he did.

You knew enough about vampires to know it was easy to fall under their spell. Equipped with an uncanny knack for mind control and manipulation, all it took was a glimmer in their eyes before you were putty in their hand. You had seen it happen before. A single word to a marine back in the East Blue had them leaving in a daze. You recognized that this power could explain your willingness to leave everything behind.

The truth was you trusted Shanks. You never regretted your choice, not for a second. Besides, what use was a captain you second-guessed?

A part of you believed that you were made for him, crafted from the same clay that he was. A bigger part of you wondered how you could ever fall in love with such an idiot. Maybe it was the thrill of wanting someone you could never have, or maybe the attention he gave you left you pliant. Either way, you knew where you belonged. You’d been in his crew for a decade now, following him from the East Blue to the New World, and you had no intention of leaving it any time soon.

Not even as you dragged Shanks’ intoxicated ass in from the deck and to his room before the sun rose.

He was more muscle than man, way too heavy for you to carry so you settled on linking your arms under his armpits and dragging him as fast as you could. Shanks groaned, his stomach surely churning under the weight of the grog and blood he’d consumed throughout the night. You had always found the combination to sound unappetizing, you wondered how Shanks could stand it every night. Then again, he did have a more “refined” palate.

The first pale rays of the sun crested the horizon right as you shut the door to the captain’s quarters. Now all you had to do was dump him in his bed and you’d be free from him for the rest of the day. Your heart panged at the thought. Gently so as not to wake up, you brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.

Shanks’ lips twitched, eyes squeezing enough for you to yank your hand back as if he burned you.

“You’re awake.” You tried to keep the indignation from your voice to no avail.

He pursed his lips to keep from smiling. “If I say no, will you still help me to bed?”

With a scowl, you dropped him in a heap on the floor, ignoring how his laughter caused a hoard of butterflies to erupt in your chest. Embarrassment at being caught warred with the natural affection you held for your captain. It left you dizzy.

The room was pitch black. Even with your eyes adjusted, it was hard to see anything that wasn’t in front of your face. You listened to your captain shuffle to his feet, still unsteady from his earlier drink. Sighing, you offered him your arm. His grip on you was firm, but not rough as he hauled himself upward, still chuckling under his breath. It was easy to forget how he could break your bones with a squeeze of his fist. Shanks could rip you apart like tissue paper if he wanted.

His hand was freezing, even through your shirt. In the dim light, you could barely see the glint of Shanks’ fangs as they poked from between his lips. You couldn’t help but shiver. If Shanks noticed it, he didn’t say anything leaning against your side as you led him to the mattress.

“You’re lucky I like you, captain.”

Shanks ignored you with a hum and buried his nose against your neck. It felt like there was an ice placed directly against your sensitive skin. You swallowed thickly as he took in a deep inhale, his hand curled in your hair, pulling you closer.

“Let me turn you. It’s been too long.”

You rolled your eyes and patted his stubble ridden chin. Shanks leaned into your touch ever so slightly. This was your least favorite conversation, one only brought up when he was drunk these days.

Two years after you joined, Shanks had been incessant. You’d proven yourself time and time again, it was time for you to be given the “gift.” The first time you turned him down, his jaw dropped and you wondered if anyone had ever denied him before. Shanks must have assumed you were shy, offering to drink from your wrist instead of your neck. As time passed, his requests tapered off. Sometimes, though, he would trace your wrinkles, something akin to sadness in his eyes. You tried not to think too hard about those moments; the one’s where you could delude yourself into thinking you were more than a friend.

Tonight was the first night in a long time that Shanks hadn’t taken someone to bed with him. While you didn’t judge him for being promiscuous, it reminded you of where you stood. He could have you anytime he wanted, all he had to do was chase you. You supposed you simply weren’t worth the chase.

“If you want to feed off me, I’ll donate some blood later. For now, bed,” You said, covering up your grown captain with a blanket like he was a child.

“You’re getting old,” Shanks slurred.

You shrugged. “It happens to the best of us.”

After a final pat on his cheek, your captain passed out, drool spilling from his lips. It was easier to ignore his offers when he slept. The more you aged, the more your body ached.

An eternity of pining after a man who would never love you sounded like torture.

—

Once night fell, the ship came to life.

Lights lit up the night, and the smell of booze filled the air as music played. You didn’t know if it was the vampirism or the piracy, but Shanks’ nighttime crew was a rowdy bunch, always yelling, always drinking, always singing, always <i>something<i>. Sure, the human crew were boisterous in their own way, however, they were completely outshone once the moon rose and stars blanketed the velvet sky.

With a yawn, you stretched your aching arms over your head, and waited for the inevitable.

A familiar pair of footsteps approached “Are you headed for bed soon?”

You turned to see your captain staring down at you with a smile, mug filled to the brim with blood. When you patted the spot next to you, Shanks sat down, legs crossed. The red liquid sloshed in his cup, some dribbling down the side. It smelled fresh, likely from today’s drive.

“Is that mine?”

He smirked and took a sip, rolling it around in his mouth as if it was a fancy brew. “What can I say? You’re the most delicious human on the ship.” Shanks’ eyes glimmered before he prodded you on the side. You shrank back with a giggle. “I could just eat you up.”

“Then who would drag you inside when the sun’s coming up.”

Shanks’ eyes softened slightly, his eyes reflecting the moon's rays enough to make them glow. “That is true. Where would I be without you?”

“A pile of ash in the middle of the deck,” You laughed.

“Then where would you be without your beloved captain?”

Knocking your shoulder against Shanks’, you stood with your hands on your hips, “Don’t get too big for your britches. When did I ever say you were beloved?”

Before Shanks could respond, the call for land rang out. You squinted your eyes to see the bundle of lights approaching on the horizon. If you could see it from here, it was sure to be a good sized town, hopefully primed to be overrun by the undead for the night. Or two. Or several. It all depended on how much supplies were needed.

Despite the promise of excitement, your heart sank. You knew what a new island meant. Shanks would party it up in a pub, flirt with people who weren’t you, and inevitably, bring someone to bed. It was a tale as old as time. You would nurse your heartbreak at the bar while your captain drank his worries away, in blood or beer, it depended on if there were any consenting humans around.

Shanks tugged on your arm in an attempt to get you to sit back down, a playful glint in his eyes. “Come drink with me once we land. You always go off by yourself, you don’t have to be so lonely.”

Sit with Shanks so he can see your heart break in real time? You’d rather eat glass. With a laugh, you shook yourself free, though you sat back down next to him, taking care to leave some space between the two of you.

“Nah, I don’t think so. I like my alone time,” You replied.

He chuckled, “And I think you’re lying.”

“What do you know about me, captain?”

Shanks turned to meet your gaze, head tilted to the side and an eyebrow raised. “More than you think.”

It was the cold night air that made you shiver. Nothing more.

“Whatever, you say.” You averted your eyes, unable to stand his stupid grin for much longer. Sharp canines poked from between his lips and you wondered how it would feel to have the graze against your skin. Your face felt hot.

As the ship approached the island, you soaked up Shanks’ presence like a sponge. He was physically cold, but his jokes made you laugh and his smile made you warm. You would only have his attention for a short while before it was turned to some pretty young thing that you could never live up to, it was better to enjoy it while you could.

For now, though, you would take comfort in the fact that no matter who went home with him tonight, it’d be you Shanks spends the early hours with.

—

Three hours later, you wished you were back on the ship.

There you were, as you always seemed to be, hunched over your drink, and glaring daggers at the far wall. Behind you, Shanks had his good arm around a man with a woman leaning against his other shoulder. He was laughing, mouth stained red to match the bite mark on the woman’s collarbone. She looked a little pale, but no worse for wear. Shanks was always careful never to take too much.

Not that you would know. Your worst fear, on the off chance he ever fed off you directly, was that you would make an embarrassing noise. A whine, or god forbid a moan. That would be something you would never live down. Shanks would tease you to hell and back.

“Is this seat taken?” An unknown voice, smooth like butter, asked.

You didn’t bother to turn. “Knock yourself out.”

You heard the stool squeak as it was pulled out. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a dark shape settle next to you. A pale, almost dainty hand cradled a wine glass full of rich, red fluid. You shook slightly when a pair of golden eyes landed on you, realizing who had settled himself next to you.

While you knew of Mihawk, though you never met him personally. He was an old rival (friend?) of Shanks’ who visited the crew every so often. Mihawk never stuck around too long. You figured the captain got to be too much for him to handle, not that you could blame Mihawk for his frustration. As much as you loved the captain, Shanks was especially annoying sometimes.

A booming laugh from behind you made your eye twitch as Shanks pulled the man closer against his side.

Like right now.

“There’s no need to glare. I don’t believe your drink is going anywhere. ”

Your head shot up, blinking a few times at the swordsman. “You never know, odder things have happened.”

Like your captain, he was a vampire. If you didn’t know that before, you sure as hell knew that now. Mihawk was almost ethereal in his beauty, with piercing golden eyes and alabaster skin that seemed to glow in the dim light. His fangs were longer than your captain’s. Where Shanks could almost pass for a human, you knew from a glance what Mihawk was. There was no mistaking it. He was a vampire in peak form and you had his full attention.

You watched Mihawk cock his head to the side, sizing you up. “Odder than a walking mug?”

“We are sitting in a bar full of vampire pirates. My mug could start flying and I wouldn’t blink an eye.”

His lips twitched upwards into an almost imperceptible smile. “What is truly odd is why a beautiful creature such as yourself is sitting all alone. Don’t you know there are predators about?”

“I’m with Shanks.” You didn’t have to say anything more than that. Both of you knew no one would dare feed from a human that belonged to Red-Haired Shanks.

“Are you now? It’s a shame it took me so long to make your acquaintance.”

Narrowing your eyes, you studied Mihawk while he watched you in return. Though your gaze was intense, your smile was easy. You were enjoying the banter. “That’s funny, because I know you know who I am. I’ve been on Shanks’ crew for over a decade now, and I wouldn’t have escaped your notice for so long.”

Mihawk’s expression shifted to what could only be described as pleased. “You’d be right. Shanks talks about you <i>incessantly<i>. Now I see why.”

You couldn’t help but flush. It hadn’t processed that Mihawk took your hand in his until his lips pressed against the back of it. That only served to make your face burn hotter.

Before you could respond, Mihawk’s lips twitched into a smirk. “That expression on you is enchanting.”

“A-Are you flirting with me,” You stammered. It had been a long time since someone had shown interest in you. Sure, people were friendly, but genuine flirtation was hard to come by. To have someone as beautiful as Mihawk giving you attention made your head spin.

He gave you a slight smirk, muttering into his skin, “Now I see your captain isn’t the only one at fault here.”

There was a sharp prickling sensation on the back of your neck. Mihawk must have felt it too because his eyebrow twitched. Whatever you expected when you turned, it wasn’t Shanks glaring daggers at the man in front of you, his pupils barely visible slits. He looked dangerously mad.

Mihawk gently turned your hand over to reveal the inside of your wrist. Right on your pulse point, he took a deep inhale, savoring you as if you were a fine wine. “Ignore him. He’s a child who's had his favorite toy taken away.”

“Y/N is not my toy.” Before you could blink, your back was pressed against Shanks’ chest. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you against him as Mihawk’s fingers tightened around your wrist. Shanks pressed his nose in your hair, lips against your ear. “Is he bothering you? Say the word and he leaves.”

“No, no not at all. We were just talking.”

Shanks squeezed you against him. “He was looking at you like you were a meal.”

“Hilarious coming from the captain who forbade his crew from drinking their blood,” Mihawk said. “I always knew you didn’t like to share your food, Red-Hair, but this is ridiculous.”

“Wait, were you flirting or were you hungry,” You asked, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice. Both men noticed, Mihawk responding with amusement and Shanks by tightening his grip on your shoulders.

“Why couldn’t it have been both?”

A low growl rumbled in Shanks’ chest. “You are not eating my crewmate.”

Mihawk ignored him, piercing your eyes with his own. “Originally, I introduced myself with the intention to meddle, but you have captivated me, Y/N.” His thumb rubbed cool circles around your pulse. “What do you have to say about that? Surely, you can take responsibility.”

“Um.” Stuck between two gorgeous men, one audibly snarling at the other, you couldn’t begin to reign in your thoughts. “That’s very sweet.”

Shanks must have felt you trembling and assumed it was from fear. His hold on you loosened, hand rubbing soothingly against your upper arm.

“It’s not sweet, it’s creepy,” He argued. “You’re scaring them.”

“Actually, he’s been very kind.” You leaned your head back to look at his face in time to see Shanks’ eyebrows jump in surprise.

Mihawk cocked his head to the side. “Unlike you, Red-Hair. How many times have you left this adorable little human by the wayside to take others to your bed.”

“They don’t care about that, we have our thing.” Shanks looked at you, expectant. “Right?”

Your brow furrowed. “What ‘thing?’”

“Our thing,” Shanks insisted. “Our cat and mouse. I chase, you push me away, I keep chasing. It’s been going on for years.”

Flipping around to face him, you fought to keep your jaw off the floor. “Shanks, are you telling me that you think we have had a ‘cat and mouse’ romance brewing for the better part of a decade?”

“Are you telling me you don’t know?”

“You sleep around all the time, but you never make any advances towards me! How am I supposed to know you’re interested in me when you flirt with anything that has a pulse?” You hung your head and sighed. “I’ve spent all this time pining over an unrequited love that isn’t even unrequited.”

“I always thought you weren’t ready for that step, I was waiting for you to initiate.” Shanks looked more flustered than you’d ever seen him. It was strange to see your normally confident captain flounder. “I can be patient when I want.” He paused for a moment, swallowing hard. “I had no idea that was how you felt. I’m sorry.”

Mihawk interrupted by slipping around you to stand beside Shanks. “As amusing as this is, I have a proposition for Y/N.”

You ignored Shanks’ pout and turned your attention to Mihawk. “And that is?”

“Allow me to take you on a date.”

Shanks butt in before you could respond. “Let me take you on a date. I want to make it up to you and I have ten years to make up for.”

You had two options before you. Your long time love, who idiotically strung you along with his poor communication skills, or the handsome vampire you met at the bar who may or may not eat you. You were a lowly human in the face of a supernatural choice. At times, you were sure you would wake up back at the ship, the entire night having been a dream.

Truthfully, it wasn’t hard to make your decision, you already knew what you wanted.

With a smile, you said, “Why don’t you both take me out tomorrow night?”

The two men shared a glance, the spark of old rivalry flashing across their faces before they gave you their answer. Shanks with a one-armed hug, and Mihawk with a final kiss to the back of your hand.

“It’s a date.”

[i-read-good-books]

Expomise Chapter 6!

I updated Expomise!

Summary: 

“It’s really good to see you, Victor. Love the hair.”

His friend flushes, “Y-yes, I thought so, too.”

For a moment, they just kind of stand there, in silence, not really knowing what to say. Yuuri wants to tell him to come in again, wants to ask how Chris and Georgi are doing, wants to reach out and touch him, like he always does.

Except… he doesn’t.

Link to ao3: here

Chapter under the cut:

“I am a strong, independent wizard who needs no man,” Yuuri whispers to himself, clutching his scarf close to his chest. “This is fine.”

“Yuuri?” Luke’s voice reaches him just as he’s finishing lacing up his skates, as cheerful as always. “We’re waiting for you here!”

“...Coming,” he calls back weakly, straightening himself up and turning to glance backwards. The Coaches who have hours in the mornings are on the ice, carefully guiding beginners and lecturing some more experienced skaters, all of which look half-asleep still, clinging to the barriers and groaning every few minutes of exhausting exercise.

Luke, of course, is also there; because the universe just hates Yuuri that much that it didn’t have enough making him anxious and terrified of squirrels. He’s at the short door that opens up to the ice, beaming at him, wearing his colourful pink beanie and the tightest leggings Yuuri’s ever seen (and he’s a ballet dancer). “Slide in, big boy.”

Yuuri flushes as he’s making his way towards him, wincing at the sound the blade make against the ground, even if it’s protected against them, “Please don’t call me that, Luke.”

“Aw,” the teenager pouts, in a way  so unnecessarily dramatic that it reminds Yuuri of Phichit. “But aren’t you such a big, strong boy?”

“I’m thi- almost fourteen,” he splutters, not meeting his eyes. “And I’ve got class now, you know.”

“You were so much nicer to me at the beginning,” Luke smiles, gently moving so that they’re skating together towards where the  Coaches are. Yuuri only has morning classes like these on weekends, since he mostly uses the rink alone with Celestino during the afternoons, to practice his magic, and he’s changed his rink from last year, so he’s still a bit unfamiliar with the rest of the adults there. That means nothing when it comes to Luke, though, he practically lives here.

Yuuri met Luke last year, at the open ice rink during Christmas, and Luke told him he had talent.

“He was scared of you at the beginning,” Yuuko pipes in, happily coming to a stop in front of them. She’s the reason Yuuri changed rinks this year, to one further away from his home, which he has to Floo to. It’s close to Minako’s, though, so he makes the trip count.

“He couldn’t be,” Luke gasps, “I’m so undeniably pleasant.”

He smiles at Yuuri as he says so, taking a moment to rub his shoulders in a friendly way, the same kind of ‘big brother’ affection he loves showering Yuuri in, and his blue eyes shine.

For a moment, Yuuri can’t breathe properly.

“Come on, Yuuri,” Yuuko grabs his hand, “We have to practice together! That’s why we’re rinkmates. You can try holding me up.”

“Yuuko, that’s dangerous - “

“Gotta go, bye!”

Honestly? She’s just saved him from completely humiliating himself by trying to speak to Luke normally. It’s basically impossible.

…

Yuuri is um, he’s pretty sure he kinda, um… he kinda likes Luke.

It’s not a big deal! And it’s not like Yuuri is like, totally lusting after him or falling in love with him, either. Luke is just really handsome, and nice, and smiles a lot, and holds his hand when he trips on ice, and says his skating is good, and -

Well. Luke is um. He’s a cool guy, okay? Anyone would have a small crush on him, he’s got that special charm that makes people flock to him like birds. Mari teases him about it all the time, to his absolute horror. Whenever she comes pick him up at the ice rink she makes a show out of calling out Luke’s name, asking how Yuuri’s done, and smiling blindingly the whole way through, ecstatic.

“I hate you so much,” Yuuri groans as they exit the place, burying his face in his hands. “Why can’t you let me be?”

“Oh, was I bothering you two?” Mari presses the back of her palm against her forehead, mock-ashamed. “I never meant to interrupt your romantic encounters. But you can’t blame me, the last time you had a crush was on that one girl who lives across the street.”

“He’s like, your age,” Yuuri whines, pushing her so that she moves quickly. He’s almost certain Luke can’t hear them, but it’s better to make sure. Just in case. “And I don’t like him!”

His sister hums noncommittally, “Yes, of course. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Yuuri.” She smirks, “Or whatever helps you at night, even if you don’t actually sleep.”

“Oh my god - I can’t believe - I am going to murder you -” His cheeks are flaming red. Did she just imply…?

Mari holds her hands up, “You’re almost fourteen, little bro, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Yuuri glares at her, hoping his blush isn’t as noticeable as he thinks, “Well, you tease like a two-year-old, so it’s an easy mistake.”

“Oi!” she punches him in the arm lightly, cackling when he yelps. “No badmouthing your sister because you get hot over an older guy!”

“Please kill me,” Yuuri begs to no one in particular.

Of course, Phichit’s reaction to the “news” (Yuuri awkwardly mumbling, “I think I have a crush on a guy at my ice rink.” during one of their nightly Skype calls, feeling like his heart’s about to burst out of his chest) is much different, and almost endearingly Phichit-like.

First, he tells Yuuri that under no circumstances is he to try to date the guy, as if.

“He is much older than you, Yuuri!” he waggles his finger threateningly on his laptop’s screen. “And a guy who hasn’t already asked you out on a date after seeing you in your ice skating glory doesn’t deserve you, anyway. Besides,” he seems especially insistent in this part, “I think you already have some very, very dateable people around you. You don’t need this boy.”

“I’m not going to date him,” Yuuri whispers harshly, checking around to make sure his parents haven’t woken up. No sound from their bedroom. “I was just telling you because it’s been driving me mad. Now that I’ve actually told someone, I can forget him!”

“Oh, no,” Phichit smiles, “You ain’t forgetting Luke Matthews anytime soon, buddy, but well. He’s your type, isn’t he? Gorgeous blond hair, endless blue eyes, smooth pale skin, and that smile, dear lord.”

Yuuri’s eyes widen, “Phichit, how do you know what he looks like?”

“How do you think?” he raises an eyebrow. “I just followed him on Instagram, obviously.”

“Phichit, unfollow him right now or I swear I will cut off your wifi.”

His friend winks, “We’re not in Hogwarts, my dear Yuuri.” He laughs at Yuuri’s dismayed expression of realization, and settles back in his chair, his smile widening. Phichit’s gotten a haircut recently, a nice one that makes his eyes stand out more. “How’s the summer coming along otherwise, cute boy notwithstanding?”

Yuuri bites his lower lip in thought, running his fingers through his hair, “Um. I’m getting more and more into skating, actually. I might be able to do a proper competition jump soon, other than waddling through my Salchow. Yuri’s been hinting at wanting to try my mom’s katsudon, so I’m probably gonna invite him over sometime soon.” He thinks about it, “Might invite Victor, too, while I’m at it.”

“Oh yeah, you do that.” Phichit nods, and then he lets out a small laugh, “Don’t tell him about Luke, though.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Yuuri rolls his eyes, “I’m not that stupid, you know, I’d already figured he might be jealous.”

His friend stares at him, mouth hanging open, “You had? Um, w-when?”

“Like, the first day?” Yuuri sighs. “Victor’s really nitpicky about anyone teaching me figure skating, he gets all petty every time Yuuko helps me with anything. Do you think I’d tell him about an older guy with more experience giving me lessons?”

For some reason, Phichit looks almost like he’s about to laugh again, his eyes twinkling, but he just says, giggling, “Yes, I’m pretty sure Victor would object to an experienced guy giving you private lessons, Yuuri.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, huffing at his friend, “Honestly, you treat me like I’m so dumb. Obviously I’d realized Victor is a protective teacher.”

“Very protective teacher,” Phichit agrees, smirking suspiciously.

…

yuuri katsucky (because you SUCK)

i dont know what u wanted me to do. like. do u want to like. poison the food or smth. i dont care tbh. im going to ur house anyway bc im invincible. so fuck u who cares tbh

nikiforov says hes going too but meh.  whatever

Yuri always writes such nice things.

Knowing that both Yuri and Victor are coming means that Yuuri spends the day before their arrival cleaning every corner of the house, meticulously making sure his parents don’t leave anything...incriminating (like the one teen Witches’ Fave Hottie: Victor Nikiforov! poster he bought because he was curious) around, and peering over their shoulders as they cook and wrinkling his nose if they put their feet on the table.

“Seriously, you’d think you were the adult,” his mother mutters, ruffling his hair while he works on his summer homework. His parents make him see a tutor to keep him updated on muggle school work, in case he doesn’t want to work in the wizarding world. Mom still thinks that the fact that they don’t study biology at Hogwarts is a crime against humanity.

He’s still fretting, fixing his clothes, the moment he hears the doorbell ring.

The first thing that Yuuri thinks when he opens the door, smiling, calling out to his parents, “They’re here!”, and sees the two Slytherins waiting outside for him is that, no matter how much he sometimes feels like Celestino is working him to death, it’s nothing compared to Feltsman.

It’s less noticeable in Yuri, who’s grumbling, wearing respectable clothes for once (although his earrings are tiger claws, of course), because the boy still looks almost eerily like a fairy, lean and skinny in a way that suggests elegant rather than ‘awkward’. But it’s undeniable the second he glances at Victor.

Victor babbled about ‘starting to really train’ for Junior Worlds after he came clean to Yuuri regarding it, delighting him with schedules upon schedules of what he had to do this summer to get up to bar in order to compete internationally. He even confessed that he may not write as many letters, with all the stuff he had to do, apologizing profusely. So Yuuri was expecting him to gain a little muscle and all but, um. They haven’t seen each other in almost two months, and the change is just a little bit striking.

His hair’s longer, almost reaching down to his back now, but he’s got it on the side, tied up in a stylish ponytail. Apart from that, all the differences are the fact that Yuuri’s pretty sure Victor’s grown at least ten centimeters since he last saw him, which finally cements his position as ‘the short friend’, something he’s been able to avoid with Phichit, thankfully. He also just seems more filled out; his shoulders are a bit further apart, his face is slightly skinnier, and he stands with more confidence, balancing his weight like he’s making an entrance.

“Hey, Yuuri,” Victor says, smiling.

He reminds Yuuri, just slightly, of Luke.

“Your voice is deeper,” he blurts out automatically, even though it’s not that big of a change, after taking in the rest. He flushes, embarrassed, and doesn’t meet his eyes, “Oh, sorry, uh, come in, you two, we’re expecting you!”

Yuri rolls his eyes, “Always collected, Huffle.”

Yuuri pokes his nose as he goes by, laughing at his infuriated yelp, “It’s good to see you, Yuri.”

“Don’t steal any paintings,” Victor tells him cheerfully, which makes him glower so bad that Yuuri’s kind of impressed he doesn’t back down. He turns to look at Yuuri again, “How have you been?” Victor bites his lip and fidgets with his hands, glancing at him from between his eyelashes, “I’m really sorry I haven’t been able to write much recently, Yakov’s been running me down.”

“Um,” Yuuri swallows. Were his eyelashes really that long before? “Oh, um, it’s fine. You already told me about it, you know.” He smiles back at him,“It’s really good to see you, Victor. Love the hair.”

His friend flushes, “Y-yes, I thought so, too.”

For a moment, they just kind of stand there, in silence, not really knowing what to say. Yuuri wants to tell him to come in again, wants to ask how Chris and Georgi are doing, wants  to  reach out and touch him, like he always does.

Except… he doesn’t.

“Yuuri?” his mom’s voice, coming from the kitchen, interrupts his train of thought. He startles, turning back. “Don’t leave your friend at the door, it’s rude.”

“Sorry, mom,” he mumbles, chastised. “Oh, so, you have to take your shoes off, see…”

…

Yuri and Victor meeting his parents goes extraordinarily well. Yuuri was slightly worried that Victor would say something accidentally offensive (one can never be sure with purebloods. Phichit, in his search for knowledge, innocently asked Yuuri when they were 11 if muggles took showers, too.), or that Yuri would burn the house down or something (one can never be sure with Yuri Plisetsky), but they come out of it mostly unscathed.

“So, Victor,” his mom sets down her fork and looks at his friend, smiling. “Yuuri has been telling us about you since forever. It would be truly nice to see you figure skate.”

Victor preens, leaning back in his chair before answering, turning on the ‘pureblood charm’. It’s a term that Leo and Yuuri made up after spending so much of their time around old, rich purebloods: however ridiculously awkward they may seem around their friends, regardless of their gross quirks and hand gestures, they turn into something like wizarding debutantes in the presence of any respectable adult, channeling thousands of gala nights into perfect table manners, unbelievable skilled public speaking and just the right amount of compliments.

Yuuri thinks it’s kind of silly, but undeniably useful for some situations. Leo calls it “Phichit trying not to seem Phichit”. Yuri has another name for it: “pretentious pampering”.

“Well, Mrs. Katsuki,” Victor closes his eyes briefly, beaming at her, “I’m sure that Yuuri has exaggerated my abilities. You see, he’s a very biased friend, although I do appreciate it.”

His mom smiles, “Oh, you’re so well-spoken, what a treasure.”

Yuri, who’s said a total of 10 words during the duration of the meal and is currently shoving katsudon into his mouth as quickly as possible, snorts.

After lunch, when they’re helping clean up the kitchen, Yuuri moves next to Victor, murmuring, “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

His friend cocks his head at him, furrowing his brow in confusion, “Do what?”

“Go all ‘look at me, I’m respectable’ on my parents,” Yuuri shrugs. “They don’t care, really. Phichit never goes pureblood mode on them. And, um,” he flushes, scratching the back of his neck, “They’re going to like you anyway, with all the stuff I’ve told them about you. I’m pretty sure my parents are convinced that you and Phichit save me from hordes of bullies every minute I’m in school.”

“I would,” Victor says immediately, as if on reflex, and then freezes, “I mean, we would.” He licks his lips, glancing downwards, “I didn’t mean to um, go ‘pureblood mode’, or whatever.”

“I’m used to it,” he smiles. He steps a little bit closer, mindful that no one hears them, just enough that their feet are almost touching in the narrow kitchen. It’s a little harder to breathe. “But you can be yourself with me, okay?”

Victor’s eyes flutter shut, before he whispers, quiet, “You’re an evil, evil guy, Yuuri Katsuki.”

…

Victor has to leave early (something about the amount of hours he has to sleep while on ‘Yakov’s training regime from hell’), but Yuri’s allowed to stay a little longer. Mari pats him for a while and challenges him to a selfie match of death (the theme is ‘who can balance more things on their nose while taking a selfie at the same time’, and it ends with them breaking five ceramic bowls and Yuri’s shoe on Mari’s face), and after a while both Yuri and Yuuri go upstairs, letting the adults watch a film. Something about a stone, a three-headed dog and a giant chess game. Honestly, Warners Bros are running out of ideas.

“Katsuki,” Yuri begins, flopping down on his bed and narrowing his eyes at him. “If you even think trying to make me play a board game, I’ll murder you.”

From where he’s kneeling down next to his bookshelf, Yuuri quickly lets go of the Monopoly box, “O-of course I wouldn’t do that, haha.”

Yuri huffs, stretching out on the bed like a cat and sighing, “I should have just gone home. You’re a mess, like always.”

“Well;” Yuuri swallows, moving to sit on his desk chair. “What do you want to do, then?”

“Sleep. Wake up and find out moderate maiming is legal and encouraged. Maybe eat pizza.”

“You just had like, three katsudon bowls!”

Yuuri hisses, “I don’t need you and your judging in my life.”

He holds his hands up, admitting defeat, “Okay, okay.” Yuuri giggles, “You’re cute when you’re excited about things, you know.”

The younger boy glares at him, showing his teeth, “I am not cute.”

“Oh yeah?” Yuuri teases, dragging his chair so it’s closer to the bed. “What about when you spent three hours telling me about the cat shelter that had opened up next to your house?”

Yuri’s ears go bright red, “I was not excited, you degenerate, I was merely moderately pleased that the human race has finally accepted cats as superior beings and are providing for their needs cost-free.”

“Or when you made me rewatch Otabek Altin’s catching the snitch ten times in the match against Portugal? With added commentary? And flaschards?”

The Slytherin throws a pillow at him, “It was twenty centimeters away, Katsuki. Learn to appreciate gods on Earth.”

Yuuri just laughs.

…

Hey Victor,

Thanks so much for sending me a book like you mentioned when you came over last week. I just thought that the book we talked about was one on magical creatures (remember? I mentioned I was struggling with the utter hell that is learning that so many stuff I thought didn’t exist is actually real?) and not your copy of Bridget Jones’s Diary.

Still loved it, though.

Yuuri

…

YUURI

OH MY GOD I’M SORRY

IT’S MY SUMMER READ OKAY THE MUGGLE STUDIES TEACHER MADE US READ ONE OF THESE LITTLE SHITS IT’S NOT LIKE I WAS READING IT BECAUSE I LIKED IT OR ANYTHING OKAY

SENDING YOU THE RIGHT BOOK WITH THIS LETTER

FML

VICTOR

…

“Hey,” Luke’s voice so close to him makes him look up, startled. The older skater is standing next to him, smiling cheerfully. He adjusts his beanie before patting him on the shoulder, “So, you’re leaving, are you, big boy?”

Yuuri flushes, not meeting his eyes. It’s his last figure skating lesson before he goes to Hogwarts for the school year, and he won’t be coming back until the summer. “Yeah, boarding school.”

“Ah, boarding school,” Luke muses. He bites his lower lip, glancing around them for a few seconds. He seems nervous. “Um, before you left, I wanted to ask you something.”

Yuuri nods, itching to get on the ice and start practicing, “Sure.”

Luke blurts out, “I was kind of hoping I could get your sister’s number.”

Yuuri freezes.

Oh.

Oh.

So that’s why he was so friendly, he realizes, with an almost disturbing calmness. Luke’s waiting for an answer, cheeks red, scratching the back of his neck. He looks just as embarrassed as Yuuri feels by this conversation, although for very different reasons. Luke probably didn’t even guess that Yuuri sorta has a crush on him. He swallows, “You like my sister?”

“...yeah,” Luke mumbles, staring at his feet. “I know it’s super weird, to go around asking her little brother, but I didn’t realize you wouldn’t be coming anymore, and I hadn’t gotten up the courage to ask her, so I was just hoping - I’m sorry, this is terrible.”

Despite himself, Yuuri lets out a short giggle, “Yeah, a little.” He takes a deep breath, ignoring the slight pang in his chest. “But I’ll give you her number anyway.”

Luke beams at him, throwing an arm around his shoulders and rubbing their cheeks together in excitement, “That’s my boy!”

It still makes Yuuri feel slightly lightheaded, having him so close, touching. And yet, there’s many things Yuuri can deal with, but crushing on a guy who would like to date his sister is not one of them. He’s ordering Phichit to unfollow him on all social media and erasing him from his memory.

“Yep,” he mutters. “That’s me.”

He reconsiders. Phichit would probably get angry on Yuuri’s behalf, even if it was more of a hero-worship crush than anything else, and make a big deal out of it. He’ll tell Victor, instead, he decides. Just omit the part where he’s a skater and everything will be fine.

…

“Mom,” Victor says, in a very quiet, very controlled voice. She looks up from the book she’s reading, blinking. Her son is holding a letter, one of those that come with puppies stickers on the front and Yuuri Katsuki’s signature on the bottom. “Have you ever wanted to murder someone?”

fin