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allollipoppins · 7 years

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Chapter 3: Yuuri/Georgi

Ch. 3 of the YoI villain AU is now up! Read it here on AO3

Georgi Popovich, head designer of Aurora House, somehow managed to juggle creating ten collections in both men and womenswear, and designing Yuuri's costume in the span of six months.

Though in fairness, he would have gone much faster if it hadn't been for the fact that, according to Yuuri and Eros, Georgi and he were close... friends.

“Georgi, you'll spoil the makeup.”

“It was already ruined in the first place.” the Russian man growled back, proceeding to wipe as much lipgloss off Yuuri's lips as he could – with his own lips and tongue.

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Yuuri couldn't help but chuckle. “Don't let Eros hear you.” Though he was ready to bet he'd heard everything.

At least, the undignified scoff they both heard from the other side of the dressing room was enough of an answer to make them giggle. “Too late,” Georgi noted, sending him a wink as he turned to draw the curtains. “Come on, let me show you my latest creation.” He extended his open palm towards Yuuri, a clear invitation to follow and – in Yuuri's opinion – annoy Eros further.

As if it hadn't been enough of him to barge on them making out on the couch earlier, tv playing in the background and Vicchan being the only one happy to see him. The only reason why he hadn't bothered to kick him out was because he knew of the bond existing between his master and the designer.

The two of them had met while they were both in college completing their degrees, Yuuri double majoring in criminology and journalism while Georgi had elected design as his own. Which, at first sight, was as evident as the sun rose in the east. A single look at the designer-in-the-making and his questionable, self-taught-and-applied makeup techniques was enough to make people doubt him.

Yuuri, on the other hand, hadn't heard much about Georgi until the latter asked him firsthand to model for him. He hadn't believed him at first, and it took much prompting before Georgi could get him in his studio for test shoots and fittings. From there, they'd escalated from model and designer, to study pals, and to the one and only person the other could consider as a real friend, someone with whom to go to the cinema or have ice cream and shopping dates.

Though their relationship was … complicated to say the least. Not in the twisted way he shared with Eros, but not as innocent either.

Long before finding Phichit again in the headquarters of the crime magazine they both worked for now, Georgi had been there for him. The friend who always gave him a pep talk, the friend who talked him into going shopping or watching a movie, the friend who knew his favorite ice-cream flavor and bought him one without needing to ask, the friend who waited on Yuuri at 3AM whenever he felt under the weather.

The friend who slept with him to forget how his fiancée cheated on him with another guy.

“Let's get you out of these clothes, shall we?” Georgi's suggestion shook him of his reverie, and he nodded at the unrequited innuendo the words carried.

Eros stood obediently on the sidelines, intently watching as Georgi started to unbutton the tuxedo, enough for Yuuri to feel his eyes burning holes into his back... or rather, Georgi's, who had somehow decided to check Yuuri's measurements again and analyse the clothing.

“Relax pup,” Georgi assured without looking at either of them, “just checking if the clothes are a good fit. Don't want you master wandering around looking like a trashcan, do you?”

Eros snorted. “As if I cared. Yuuri looks good in anything he wears.”

The latter was certain his cheeks were burning after that statement, a clear contrast with the crisp white shirt the stylist had dressed him in. Georgi huffed, but seemed to ponder his words. His analytical eyes wondered on Yuuri's form, taking him in wholly.

“Come to think of it, you're not completely wrong, Eros...”

“Guys, please.” Yuuri muttered, head lowered under the praise – or was it teasing? Hard to tell given both men's proclivity to shower him with compliments on occasion (meaning, on a regular-enough basis).

“Sorry,” they both echoed, one a little more honest than the other. Once Yuuri was down to his boxers and had a robe draped over his shoulders, Georgi stepped away to reach for a bag on the nearest table. With one flick of his hand, he beckoned both Eros and Yuuri to step closer to look at what was inside the bag.

Yuuri watched with bated breath as Georgi handed him its contents. “You go ahead. Think of it as an early birthday present.”

He tentatively unwrapped the garments out of their plastic and paper wraps, like a teenager warily unpacking his Christmas gifts, and laid each item on the table. He was so focused on the results he hadn't noticed Eros moving closer to him, standing behind his back. He mentally acknowledged the hand placed on his shoulder, as if in silent support.

Releasing the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, Yuuri took in his newest costume.

Black, form-fitting and made of a fabric he'd never seen before. It had the brillance of silk, but the elasticity of spandex – which, thank God, wasn't what the entire costume was made of. The simplistic top and assorted pants were adorned with various belts, one tied high where his right tight would be underneath the clothes, and the others served to tighten a leather corset, the wide buckles at the front accentuating the curves of his chest and waist. The shoulder pads and gauntlets Georgi had given him were also made of leather, comfortable and snug enough to let him move at ease without straining his muscles, he observed as he rotated his shoulders back and forth in a circular motion. A dark hood attached to the top completed the outfit, its cowl hiding the bottom part of his face and leaving his chocolate eyes visible. Maybe he'd ask to have it removed, Yuuri mused, thinking that it would smear the makeup Georgi usually applied. He voiced his thought out loud.

"Actually, I'd rather you removed it halfway, if you don't mind. It's true that I should have thought about that earlier but ey, I just figured it would look cooler that way."

“Well yeah I get that, but you do realize that I'm going to wear a hood right? As in, there's no need for me to put makeup on?”

“The makeup's just for insurance. Besides, with my expert hands, it won't be removed so easily. You of all people should know that.” The underlying tone of knowledge lingering in his voice brought a blush to Yuuri's cheeks. Of course he'd know.

He silently turned back to his new acquisition, not quite sure what to make of it.

To say he was a little surprised by the costume was an understatement.

Georgi, the fantastic partner in crime that he was, had tried to convince him to go for something a little more excentric, but the (first) final result had reminded him more of the girl from The Ring than anything else, almost giving him a heart attack when he took a look at himself in a mirror. The next result had been an oddly elegant cross between Slappy the Puppet and a Japanase Noh-Theatre actor, but remained every bit as creepy as its fictional counterparts. Next had been the tuxedo he'd been wearing instants ago, a better fit but the makeup hadn't done him justice either. He hadn't quite seemed like the Saw puppet, but he'd looked the part.

So it was a surprise to see this final product come out as minimalistic and yet so beautifully crafted, plus it gave him enough anonymity to be unrecognizable and unidentifiable to the public eye.

In short, he loved it. Yuuri's disguise wasn't as intricate and complex as Georgi probably would have wished it to be, but it was for the better. Who knew, maybe one day he'd be able to put the dresses and kimonos Georgi had specially designed for him to good use.

Which reminded him.... “But I thought you wanted me to wear a kimono.”

Georgi shrugged. “That was before I realized how awkward it would be for you to move. Unless you want me to add a few touches to it, but in the end you don't have to don the entire outfit if you don't want to.” The statement took Yuuri off guard. He knew Georgi to be someone who never did things halfway; either he was fully involved in his work, mind body and soul, or he dropped it the second.

“But Georgi -” Yuuri started to protest.

“No won't do, Yuuri, I can't have you waltzing down Detroit streets when you trip on your own two feet, can I? That would be rude of me.”

Yuuri didn't have the gall to correct him or feel offended. Georgi, if not all of his acquaintances were aware of his legendary clumsiness. Years of ballet training could only do so much for his form. Besides, it was nice to know that in spite of all fashion codes currently taking over the world, Georgi was still considerate enough to keep in mind his particular … needs.

“Still,” he sighed, “you took so much time just to prepare this outfit, knowing that you also had your fashion show to plan, models to recruit, and God, don't even get me started on – ”

Yuuri didn't get time to go on. In fact it was Eros who cut him off, forgotten in the background while he'd been watching the exchange between his master and Georgi.

“Okay,” he sighed, “what was it this time? What made you decide to change the costume on a whim??”

Georgi ignored the fake tiredness but very much real annoyance seeping through his voice in favor of circling Yuuri in long strides, taking in the outfit under different angles.

“The problem wasn't so much that it didn't look good; it would've been be a little impractical, although according to my measurements and adjustments you could have easily pulled off a jetée in those tuxedo pants.”

“Why would he want to do a jetée while he's slitting someone's throat? That would be awesome, sure, but really.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Eros, I think you have the wrong person here.”

“Anyway, let's try it on, then we'll see what to do with your makeup.” Georgi nudged him forward, gently removing the robe from his shoulders and letting it fall to the ground at Yuuri's feet.

To Yuuri's surprise, Eros turned to leave. “You're not staying, Eros?”

His shadow turned back at him to shrug. “I'm on patrol duty in a few minutes, and I don't want to miss anything out. Also,” he stopped before crossing the threshold, “I'd rather undress you by myself when I get back home to see you in that.” He winked at Yuuri and sent a smirk Georgi's way, who replied with one of his own, before stepping out of the studio.

Silence settled in as the sound of his companion's footsteps faded into the distance. Georgi seized the opportunity to grab Yuuri's clothes, stretching them enough to help him into the pants, which were as tight as he'd imagined them to be, but not uncomfortably so. For the top Yuuri bend down slightly, arms stretched up while Georgi let the fabric slide over his arms then onto the rest of his frame. He repressed the small giggle building in his throat when Georgi's fingers brushed his sides, tickling him lightly. He held his breath while the corset was adjusted, but to his surprise it didn't bring any discomfort. He slipped on the gloves and assorted leather belts, turning on himself to catch his reflection in the mirrors. But before he could, Georgi pivoted him so they were face to face.

“Last detail,” he explained, and Yuuri shivered when his fingers dug under the high collar, softly brushing his neck, and brought up the cowl to cover his mouth. For a moment, Yuuri was almost scared to lose his ability to breathe, but the knot that formed at the back of his throat dissolved as he realized he could easily take in breath, even with the cloth covering his mouth and nose.

When he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror behind him, he could hardly recognize himself. Not only due to the fact that this outfit covered most of his body and didn't appear to give away his identity. The garments clung to him like a second skin, but in a pleasant way that didn't make his skin itch. He wondered how it was possible, for him to manage to pull off such a look. His reflection brought back childhood memories of ninja cartoons and fictional assassins in the movies Mari would take him to see back when... back then.

“You're so beautiful.”

He twisted on his toes in time for Georgi to pull the cowl down, and place his hands on each side of his face.

This was so intimate. It didn't feel uncomfortable, not the way his own, first future interactions with Minami would be. Georgi was one of the few besides Eros allowed to see him like that. Bare, so vulnerable under the layers of clothes and makeup that hit his other self.

Georgi was always oh so gentle, never coaxing him into things he knew Yuuri would dislike. And even when he thought the Russian would pull off a nasty trick, he'd ended up having fun against his initial preconceptions.

“You're quite the challenge, Katsuki Yuuri, did you know that?” He asked, staring directly into Yuuri's eyes.

Yuuri raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “How so?”

“Always being so mean to me and to yourself, forcing me into whatever business it is you have with that other gigolo”, he leaned his forehead against Yuuri's. “I don't like this, Yuuri, whatever it is you do. You know what I think, don't you?”

Yuuri sighed, pressing back against Georgi, his own hands moving up to Georgi's chest and digging int the fabric of his crisp white shirt. “I know you don't approve of this, Georgi, but I couldn't picture myself doing anything else. And I could not think of anyone better to do the job.”

Gerogi frowned. “Are we even talking about the same person at this point?”

Yuuri snickered. “I meant you, silly, not Eros. I”m choosing you for this because I know you're the best at what you do. Besides,” Yuuri brought his hands up to circle them around Georgi's neck, pulling him closer to whisper in his ear, “what kind of best friend would I be, keeping you out of these things?”

Georgi sighed with finality, knowing he wouldn't be able to talk Yuuri into changing his mind, for one. “Ugh. Fine, I'll do it, but don't come crying when he stabs you in the back,” he emphatically insisted, Yuuri knowing without asking who exactly he was referring to.

Yuuri hummed as Georgi pulled away and guided him towards his vanity. Georgi motioned for him to sit, which he complied with Georgi still brushing his cheek.

“The stories are real, I see. Japanese truly have naturally soft skin.”

Yuuri felt the color rushing to his cheeks. “We – we do not! I don't where you got that from, but that's not true. At least I never heard of it.”

Georgi chuckled good-naturedly. “Well, now you know. But just in case, I'd rather have you moisturized before you go out there. After all, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't make sure your skin is properly treated?”

He sounded playful, but Yuuri knew him to be dead-serious, judging from Georgi's expression alone. He'd be damned if his personal makeup artist didn't follow his own rules.

Yuuri shrugged, but teased him back. “The kind of friend to whom I'd ask “who are you and what have you done to my Georgi?”, I guess.”

Georgi paused in the middle of blending the cream. “Your Georgi, huh?” he mused. He then extended his cream-coated fingers towards Yuuri's face, the other moving under his chin in a gentle but stable grip. “I like the sound of that. Although it's not like you to be territorial.”

“Not territorial,” Yuuri corrected, holding as still as possible while Georgi's expert fingertips deftly dabbed at his forehead and temples. “Just concerned.”

“You shouldn't be,” Georgi applied small batches on his cheeks in a freckle pattern, then booped Yuuri's nose with an additional spot of cream to distract him; the action made him smile. “I'm getting over An – I mean over her. Over it.” Georgi covered his light stumble by lowering his head, focusing on blending the product with his fingers.

Yuuri stilled. There was no denying Georgi was getting better at this: moving on was never an easy progress, and witnessing as he was taking steps forward was reassuring. Slow and steady wins the race, as the common saying went. Though Yuuri would have preferred him to get a grip earlier. His best friend didn't deserve to shed tears on such an undeserving woman.

He hummed, willing himself to go back to another subject. “You'll make me pretty then, won't you?”

“Oh honey, I don't need that do make you look nice, you already do a fine work on your own.” Georgi cups his face between his hands, looking him directly in the eyes. “Just ensuring that I'll be the only one seeing your real face.”

Yuuri laughed. “Now you're the one being territorial.”

Georgi grinned back. “Not territorial, no. Just concerned.” The Russian designer patted his cheeks, testing the texture of the finished product. He must have been satisfied, for he pulled away to reach for the rest of his supplies in his makeup case. Yuuri mourned the loss of the warm, gentle fingers on his skin. “Let's move to the real deal, then,” Georgi shot him a sideway smile that Yuuri corresponded. “Let's.”

Yuuri kept his eyes trained on Georgi, even though he knew the designer not to be paying attention to his surroundings. Right now, his sole focus was Yuuri, and Yuuri only. Knowing so pulled at something inside Yuuri.

The bastard was right. He sure could be possessive when he wanted to be.

He stayed as still as possible when Georgi started to apply the foundation, one that was far paler than the one he usually used but looked convenient enough. At least this time it wasn't face paint for clown makeup. He let his eyes close and his mind drift elsewhere as Georgi tapped on various spots on his face, applying small batches one at a time, the cool liquid losing its thickness when Georgi handily blended it on his skin, always with a light and gentle touch.

Yuuri opened his eyes as Georgi pulled away to grab the hightlighter. One glance at the mirror made him access that he definitely looked pale, almost white, his complexion looking closer to that of a Caucasian male save for his normal features. Georgi's fingers under his chin made him face him again.

“Pull your cheeks in,” he directed, and Yuuri sucked in a breath, pulling in and biting the insides of his cheeks. Georgi brushed each cheek with a powder that, if his eyes weren't failing him, was a few shades darker than the foundation, though still faint. Georgi added the finishing touches with blush, using his fingertips to spread the texture higher in a triangluar shape. Yuuri raised an eyebrow when he next took out a crayon.

“Freckles? Are you sure about that?”

“Absolutely! The makeup brought out your lovely cheekbones, it would be a shame not to highlight them further, even though they'll be hidden.” With this said, he delicately pecked Yuuri's cheeks with the crayon, before looking satisfied with his work and picking another crayon. Yuuri stole a few peeks: he did look cute with the tiny freckles painting near-invisible constellations on his face. One would have to come closer to see them. Clever boy.

“Eyes this time.”

Georgi followed the line of his eyebrows with a dark pencil the color of his hair, then grabbed a liner.

“Look up.” Yuuri did just so, his friend applying a thin line of khôl on each external lower eyelid. Once he could look down again, Georgi placed his thumb on a temple, silently motioning for him to close his eyes. He let himself be maneuvered, Georgi taking his time to run the liquid eyeliner along the lid directly above his lashes.

“Eyeshadow and mascara?” He heard the Russian ask from behind his closed eyes. Not knowing quite exactly how it was turning out, Yuuri shrugged. “You're the professional, you make the decision.”

“I'll take that as a yes, in that case.” Georgi remarked graciously, a beat passing until a spongy tool made contact with Yuuri's eyelid, spreading eyeshadow along the line previously drawn with eyeliner. Georgi made a quick work of the other eyelid too, then told him: “You can open your eyes now, I'll get the mascara.”

Feeling the bright light in his eyes again was a little painful, adding to the tiredness that was starting to weight down on him in addition to the thick mascara being applied on his lashes. It was getting late, after all. Georgi would probably have to give him a lift.

“Do you want to stay overnight?” Georgi's question caught him off guard, just as he was getting started on his lips. Had he absentmindedly voiced his thoughts out loud?

“No it's fine, I don't want to be a nuisance. Surely you must have a lot of work to do and I don't want to keep you busy.”

“That's not a problem.You could never be bothersome, even if you tried.” Georgi traced his lips with a red crayon – Yuuri guessed the shade as “Blood” - , then proceeded to coat them with a lipstick of a similar shade. Yuuri had to open up his mouth so Georgi could have an exact access to his lips, having decided long ago to only paint the middle so his puckered lips would form a heart. He pulled them together, rubbing before releasing them with a loud “pop” that resonated inside the otherwise quiet room. Realizing suddenly how obscene his action had been, Yuuri's cheeks colored, certain they were as red as his lips.

Georgi, thank God, hadn't seemed to notice nor mind. “Last touch,” he only concluded, grabbing a beige and brown pencils and tracing two parallel lines on Yuuri's chin, running from the bottom corner of each side of the red heart. He took turn using the pencils, coloring the lines alternatively and shading to have them burst, as if they were part of Yuuri's face.

He finally sighed, pushing back in his chair and away from Yuuri to watch him. “There, all done!”

“How do I look, then?” Yuuri asked, wincing a little when he sat up, having stayed in the comfortable chair for much too long.

Georgi grinned in response, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Why don't you see it for yourself?”

When he saw the transformation, Yuuri gasped. He had known Georgi to be capable of miracles and making some of the best illusions out of reality, but he hadn't thought him capable of transforming into a human-sized, realistic-looking puppet. Somehow, Georgi had managed to pull quite a feat: he'd transformed him into a ventriloquist dummy. The words alone, he thought as he stepped closer to the glass, didn't do it justice. The name, used on its own, appealed to a world Yuuri only associated with darkness and children's nightmares, and yet when he looked at him he felt none of the horror he'd expected to experience upon gazing at his final makeover. He didn't remind himself of a Goosebumps villain or a demonic clown straight out of a freak show. He reminded himself of the precious dolls one kept in glass cases in museums, for the sake of preserving their beauty from the outer world.

“And what do you think of the final result?” Georgi asked softly, his chest pressing against Yuuri's back.

Yuuri swallowed the lump in his throat. “These are my strings. Puppets are only free when they love their strings, aren't they?”

The kiss Georgi pressed to his neck made him shiver, though not enough to take his eyes off his reflection.

Georgi hummed appreciatively in his ear. “I guess so. I take it it is to your taste, Puppet Master?” Georgi murmured.

Yuuri shook his head. “I don't like it. I adore it.”

#yoi villain au #yuuriharemheadcanons #allollipoppins #my writing #yuuri/georgi

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