#so I really desperately wanted to show him Yuri on Ice but was scared he wouldn't watch it bc it's gay

[friendofthecrows]

Yo, can I tell you the story of how my dad stopped being homophobic?

So he LOVES ice skating movies. He used to watch "The Ice Princess" with me on any occasion I would let him. He really likes the wholesome, inspirational themes that they often have.

So I tell him about Yuri On Ice, saying it's about learning to believe in yourself, and not letting doubts or past failures stop you from getting up and trying again. It's about family, love, and unlikely friendships, full of quirky characters and comedy. And of course, lots of skating.

So he agrees to watch it with me. At first, he's a bit pissy about the homosexuality aspect. When I ask him if he liked it after the first couple of episodes the was like "yeah, but not...those parts." He asks if we can watch more. Over the next couple of weeks, we finish the show.

At some point afterward he makes some comment about gay people, and I look him in the eye and say, "would you say that about Victor and Yuri?" in the most genuine, serious voice I can muster.

And so my dad has this horrified look of realization and goes, "...Of course I wouldn't."

He genuinely, as far as I can tell, stopped being homophobic after that. I could make some statements about the power of stories but it's just so funny: Gay Ice Skating Anime Cures Homophobia

[incorrectquotesconaisseur]

SO GUYSSSS I JUST FINISHED READING RULE OF WOLVES AND WHAT THE HELL???? I am a MESS

(so here are my thoughts that I had while reading it)

❗❗RULE OF WOLVES SPOILERS❗❗

• Lol Nikolai has a horse named Punchline, I love him so much

• Sankta Zoya Y E S

• Nina is sooo badass I love her - Brum needs to die btw

• Fjerda is a little shit

• "If not for Nina, their blessed termite eating at the heart of Fjerda’s government" - did I mention I love Nina?????

• Nikolai is a freaking mastermind and I love him

• OMG THEY HAVE AN ANTIDOTE FOR PAREM NOW???? HELL YEAH take THAT Fjerda!!!!

• Nina adopting Kaz's mindset when back at the Ice Court is what I live for

• UGH THE APPARAT

• Nikolai is soooo in love with Zoya I AM GOING CRAZY

• Zoya's "you forget that in Kerch greed is a virtue" gave me MAJOR Kaz vibes... I miss my crow babies

• Maybe it's an unpopular opinion, but I don't really like Ehri

• ZOYALAI NATION, HOW ARE WE??? ARE WE CRYING?

• I just REALLY love the found family trope and seeing everyone gathered in Zoya's rooms and Zoya curled up on the couch next to Genya I just AAAAAAAAA

• I absolutely adore the whole concept of the Darkling's prison and the CONSTANT sunlight he has to face HA - Alina vibes

• OMG "bring me Alina Starkov" WHAT THE FUCK I have literal chills ESPECIALLY after seeing the S&B trailer:)

• Nina being so confident in everything she learned from the Crows gives me so much serotonin I WANT MY BABIESSS

• Oh my god... I like prince Rasmus, he gives me major Nikolai vibes

• I draw immense satisfaction from Kaz and Zoya using "podge" as their preferred curse word :))))

• NIKOLAI CAN SEPARATE HIMSELF FROM HIS DEMON???? King behavior

• HOLY SHIT ALINA AGREED TO THE MEETING here we go again, fam

• I'm seeing Nikolai talking a lot about accepting his death and being undisturbed by the prospect of it and it feeaks me out - if he dies, I die with him

• Random, but: they need to get the thorn stuff from the Order of Sankt Feliks or whatever, right??? Maybe they have to steal it... and they would require expertise... MAYBE SOME CROWS PLS???????? (I am such a clown)

• Okay wait... so the letters that prove Nikolai is a bastard are in the druskelle sector... PLEASE TELL ME NINA HAS TO BREAK IN THE ICE COURT the fact that she is back there ALONE makes my heart clench so hard... I MISS MY CROWS

• FUCK ALINA SHOWED UP (also Oncat apparently and now I want to cry about Harshaw again)... AND MAL I can't take this I AM HYPERVENTILATING

• I AM LEGIT ON THE FLOOR Yuri is still there FINALLY understanding that the Darkling is evil AND NOW MY MAIN MAN GOT HIS POWERS BACK oh, I love the chaos

• NIKOLAI FUCKING CARRIES ZOYA'S RIBBON IN HIS POCKET nobody fucking touch me

• THE WEDDING IS FOR GENYA AND DAVID????? I AM SOOO CONFUSED what the heck

• Nikoali is the most fucking badass amazing cunning freakishly intelligent idiot I have ever seen in my entire life, my love for him is immesurable, I cannot put into words just how awesome his awesomeness is TAKE THAT MAKHI YOU BITCH

• OH HELL NO the demon is trying to escape SMACK THAT BITCH NIKOLAI BABY

• Oh wow, Rasmus is crazyyyy af he isn't anything like Nikolai my perfect boi SORRY

• OMG Nikolai's dad us a good guy??? I feel so sorry for him... SO NIKOLAI WAS RIGHT TO BE A ROMANTIC huh

• FUCKING HELL again with the nichevo’ya???? Darkling bby, what the HECK

• Nononononooo NO NOOOO NOT DAVID WHAT THE FUCK LEIGH

• "This is what love does" one of the most powerful quotes tbh

• Wait... they want to???? STEAL??? titanium from the Kerch??? .... DOES THIS MEAN.... C R O W S?????

• Okay but... the Darkling's POV? POWER MOVE I love it!!! And the fact that he uses Aleksander as his name with zero reticence now is just *chef's kiss*

• I'm sorry but... I don't like Mayu's chapters I AM SO SORRY I DON'T

• Nina is my badass queen STEP ASIDE PEASANTS

• All these SoC Easter Eggs and mentions are driving me insane

• Idk why but imagining the Darkling drinking beer is sooo funny to me

• I AM LOSING MY SHIT they are in Ketterdam KETTERDAM does that mean ....DOES THAT MEAN ....I better see my Crows or I am throwing hands

• The Zoyalai conversations in this book are KILLING me

• OH MY FUCKING GOD so Kaz took the Emerald Palace over and renamed it THE SILVER SIX???? LIKE???? I AM LEGIT CRYING???

• Ummm...Zoya, honey, WHY do you want to VOLUNTARILY stay away from Nikolai, HUH?????

• THE ONLY REASON HE AGREED TO HELP NIKOLAI WAS BECAUSE HE GUARANTEES INEJ'S PROTECTION if that's not L O V E idk what is YAAASSS KANEJ

• FUCKING SHIT JESPER!!!! IT'S JESPER!!!! WYLAN!!!! I AM FAINTING MY BABIESS

• The Crows' banter is WHAT I LIVE FOR

• Kaz is the most cold, badass and calculating motherfucker on the planet, I love him soooo much

• No NO NOO JORAN IS THE ONE WHO KILLED MATTHIAS????? HOLY SHIT I am sooo scared LEIGH WHYYYY

• Kaz's reaction to Nikolai's demon is legit the funniest shit ever

• Kaz and Nikolai are bffs - THIS IS HEADCANON LEAVE ME BE

• Queen Leyti has severely disappointed me

• I am having waayyyyy too much fun reading about the Darkling among blindly faithful monks - this is the stuff of sitcoms

• (I know the Crows only had a cameo and they won't pop up again, but I can't help desperation wanting to see Nina reunite with them and PLEASE GIVE ME INEJ!!!)

• Honestly, it's pretty cool getting to have a look in the Darkling's head - it's SUPER fucked up

• OOOOO the blight vs the Darkling = the only confrontation I want to see

• FATHER AND SON REUNION

• I don't care much for Hanne x Nina, but I have to admit that they make a very cute couple

• FUCK THEY BROKE STURMHOND'S BLOCADE FUUUUCK

• WAIT NO it was their plan all along HOLY SHIT electricity RULEZZZZ who knew physics would prove THIS useful???

• UUUGHH FUCK THE APPARAT I am so sick of this guy - Zoya was right, they should have killed him

• I am really pissed at the Darkling- YOU FUCKING ACKNOWLEDGE HOW MUCH RAVKA NEEDS YOUR HELP, YOU SEE NIKOLAI'S BRAVERY, YOU KNOW YOU CAM HELP, AND YOU DO NOTHING??? BRO WHAT THE FUCK

• HELL YEAH ZOYA IS A DRAGOOON fuck some shit up sweety Y E S

• MY SKIN IS CLEARED AND MY CROPS ARE WATERED BY THE DARKLING RAISING A MOB TO CALL ZOYA "SANKTA"

• Also... the Darkling winking at Nikolai? FLERT

• WHAT THE FUCK???? HANNE DIED??? holy shit, why???? WHY CAN'T NINA BE HAPPY???????

• Nikolai is an absolute SAVAGE in a debate

• Idk what to think abt Rasmus... he was kinda badass for standing up against Brum

• SOLDIER. SUMMONER. SAINT. slap me and call me a hoe I SCREAMED WHEN I READ THAT

• ZOYA AS QUEEN, SIGN ME THE FUCK UP

• Okay I stan the Darkling again

• ZOYALAI IS CANON I REPEAT ZOYALAI IS CANONNNNN

• OKAY WOW HANNE IS A FULL-ON BADASS yep, I stan

• I really???? LOVE??? this ending for the Darkling??? Idk but it is VERY fitting

• ALINA!!!! AT ZOYA'S!!!! CORONATION!!!! my life is complete

• FUCKING SHIT INEJ!!! INEEEEEJJJJ my queen my love AAAAAA

• The conversation at the end between Alina, Zoya and Genya DESTROYED ME

• STEALING THE HEART OF SANKT FELIKS yes please BRING THE CROWS BACK!!!!! I NEED ANOTHER CROWS SEQUEL!!!!

• I fainted, I ascended, I DIED at the last page

• NOW I NEED A SEQUEL!!!

• Leigh, you ARE goig to write what happens next, right? RIGHT? RIGHT????

[just-come-baek]

Merry Crisis

Pairing: hockeyplayer!jungkook x pickpocket!reader

Themes: smut | fluff | sports!au | christmas!au | yyy... action?

Word count: 12k

Summary:  During a casual meeting with friends at a local ice rink, a handsome boy bumps into me. Though it was just a small accident, a series of extraordinary adventures follow, helping me realize I should really change some of my life choices.

Warnings: tooth-rooting fluff | jungkook is the goodest boy | jungkook, hoseok, and jimin are hot hockey players | ice rink injuries | violence | pickpocketing | alcohol consumption | improper babysitting | namjoon, jin, and taehyung are of different age | questionable choices | teasing | graphic scene descriptions | police questioning | vanilla smut | thigh riding | unprotected sex | jungkook says like one (1) dirty line

A/N if you get uncomfortable during this story, just stop reading. it gets weird later on. Also, sorry for posting it so late, it’s still Christmas somewhere!

4 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

“What the hell are we doing here?” Kibum asked for the tenth time as he nearly slipped, even though his hands were glued to the railing. “None of us can skate for fuck’s sake,” he remarked, not being careful enough to watch his tongue, letting children hear his foul language. “We should’ve gone drinking mulled vine instead of this nonsense.”

“Speak for yourself. I am a decent skater,” I argued, though it was maybe my third time on the ice rink. The surface was slippery, yet I was brave enough to try my luck without sticking to the railing at all times.

Whoosh!

Kibum and I turned our heads around to see a few men racing on the rink like lunatics going probably at least two thousand miles per hour. They were skating so fast we barely could get a blurry image of their backs – fucking show-offs.

“Can you believe it? Fucking road hogs wanting to kill us all,” Kibum complained, searching for an exit with his eyes, desperate to get the hell away from the ice rink. “I’ve seen enough TV to know how this ends. Someone is going to leave this paddock with a blade in their neck,” he added, and I cursed in disgust, trying to erase the vivid picture my mind conjured.

“You really can ruin everything, can’t you?”

“Isn’t why you brought me here in the first place?” Kibum challenged, readjusting his woolen scarf around his neck in a fabulous diva manner. “Come on, go get Yeri. I’ll wait on the bench,” he ordered, clumsily escaping that icy trap.

“I think your cousin wouldn’t appreciate me going over there,” I stated, spotting her on the other side of the rink, flirting with a cute guy. “Now, that would be so cruel,” I added, leaning over the railing, staring at Kibum ineptly wobbling to the bench.

“What?” Kibum barked in an over-protecting manner, looking for the unworthy punk wasting Yeri’s time. “Just bring her here, please. I’m gonna treat you to lunch.”

“You should’ve said that earlier. I’m on it,” I said, content with how much I stalled the conversation to get a free meal from Kibum for completing such an easy task.

Having pushed myself off the railing, I made my way towards Yeri. She was basically at the opposite end of the ice rink, so I was forced to skate around lovely-dovey couples in the rhythm of overhyped Christmas songs.

Halfway there, the DJ ordered changing directions, so with a loud groan, I obediently turned around. Unfortunately, one of the speeding men didn’t halt quick enough and smashed right into me, ungracefully knocking me into the ice.

Crash!

It was a painful fall for both of us. If it wasn’t for the beanie with a big fluffy faux ball at the top of it, I’d most likely end up in hospital with a third-degree concussion and possible skull fraction.

Though I was in a mild shock, I could feel a nearing headache and blood dripping down my chin after his forehead collided against my nose. With his knee sharply boring into my thigh, I whined, trying to push him off of me.

At this point, I didn’t care about his injuries. He was the one who bumped into me in the first place; he deserved all the pain he was experiencing. Hopefully, it was similar to mine. According to Newton’s third law of motion, he ought to feel the same amount of pain, and if he sensed it any less, I was about to become livid about the lie I had been told at school.

“Get off of me!” I yelled, once again trying to shove him to the side. Huffing in defeat, I accepted my death by freezing my ass off due to a motionless pile of muscles lying on top of me. “Dude, move,” I tried again, and the man winced, sliding to the side.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he whispered, whimpering in ache. “Are you okay?”

“Been better,” I remarked, trying to sit up. However, as soon as I was in a sitting position, I started to feel dizzy – the surroundings just kept spinning in front of my eyes.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Two men and Yeri scared in unison as they made their way towards us. “It was quite a fall,” one of them added, making me roll my eyes. His friend literally smashed me off the ice like a bulldozer – I wouldn’t call it a fall.

“She’s bleeding,” Yeri mentioned, looking for a bag of single-use handkerchiefs to give me one to aid my problem.

“How many fingers do you see?” the other man leaned over, showing me his palm, and I swatted his hand away with an angry hiss. “You’ve hit her bad, Jungkook. Good luck apologizing to her,” he commented, making it really difficult for me not to kick him in the shin with the blade.

“Is this a joke to you?” Yeri challenged the man, not particularly enjoying his comment. Attagirl! “You better make yourself useful and carry them off the rink,” she ordered sternly, her voice laced with concern.

“Hold on, beautiful,” the shorter one said before he bent to pick me up and wrap his arms around my shoulders to carefully escort me out of the ice rink. Slowly, we staggered to the benches where the man helped me sit down. “I’m Jimin, and you are?”

“In a tremendous amount of pain,” I replied, massaging my head, trying to ease the throbbing. I was about to get a headache of a century, and they kept asking me these stupid questions.

“I’m fine, Hoseok, put me down,” the man, who had smashed into me, complained as his friends dropped him at the bench beside me. “I’ve been through worse,” he groaned, and I gritted my teeth, trying to stop my instinct to cause another scene.

Thankfully, I’ve got Kibum, who would channel his inner Karen to argue for me.

“You stupid fucks, look what you’ve done!” Kibum yelled, hitting Jungkook in the back of his head, making everyone gasp in shock. “What were you thinking, skating this fast? You’re lucky she didn’t end up with a blade stuck in her throat, or else, I’d have to murder you!”

“Guys, stop shouting,” I whispered, barely withstanding the pain. “Can we please go somewhere quiet?”

On cue, Kibum and Yeri went to get my stuff. At the same time, Jungkook’s friends walked away from us to get their belongings, leaving me alone with the villain himself.

“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook apologized once again, being considerate enough to volume down his words. “Come on. Let me help you,” he stood up, offering his hand to escort me out of the tent. Unwillingly, I grabbed his palm, allowing him to save me from random shouts of joy and repetitive Christmas hits.

Once outside, I felt a little bit better, but it was still far from perfect.

“How are you feeling? Should I take you to a hospital?” Jungkook inquired as he looked into my eyes, trying to detect any lie.

“Nah, I’m good. I think I’ll just walk it off,” I shook my head, trying to stand up to demonstrate my current state. Unfortunately, I was still a little bit shaken after the fall, almost collapsing onto the ground. “On a second thought, I’m gonna sit here for a while,” I added, sheepishly, experiencing an unfamiliar feeling of helplessness.

In silence, Jungkook and I started at each other, unsure what to do or say next. We were just two strangers who participated in an accident. Our friends were nowhere to be found, giving zero fucks about the uncomfortable moment between us.

“Should we exchange numbers?” Jungkook suddenly asked, making me crease my eyebrow in confusion. What did he need my phone number for? “When there’s a car accident, both parties exchange contact info to work out a settlement,” Jungkook explained, and I sighed, trying to digest what he just said. Apparently, he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. “Please, don’t sue me,” he added with a light-hearted giggle to his tone as he sat down on the bench.

“I didn’t plan on doing that, but since you’ve mentioned it, I’ll think about it,” I teased, reaching into my coat’s pocket to get my phone. “Give me your number, I’ll ring you,” I muttered, carefully typing Jungkook’s digits into my device. After a few seconds, Jungkook’s phone vibrated, flashing my number.

“Under what name did you save me?” Jungkook asked in curiosity, looking over my shoulder, cackling when he read totally suing this guy on the screen. “Well… at least you didn’t save me under do not pick up the phone, so that’s a relief,” he added, laughing at his joke.

Though I was a little bit curious how Jungkook saved my number, ultimately, I decided not to entertain this impulse. After all, the chances of him actually calling me were slim, if not none.

“What’s your name?” Jungkook asked, but before I managed to give him a proper reply, Kibum shouted it loud and clear from afar. “Duly noted,” he added with a tiny grin.

Along with Yeri and Jungkook’s friends, he made his way toward us, having the guys carry all our stuff like indebted servants.

“You’ll never guess,” Kibum stated, plopping on the bench beside me. At this point, I wasn’t in the mood for charades, so I just rolled my eyes, failing to accordingly react to Kibum’s attempted suspense.

Thankfully, Yuri chimed in, revealing the big plan. “We’ve talked to the guys, and they proposed to treat all of us to dinner. The race was their idea, so they figured it’s one way to make it up to you for you know what,” Yuri explained, and I sighed.

Hooray!

That’s exactly what I needed, to spend more time with the asshole that slammed into me with the force of a hundred horses.

Perfectly splendid.

“Sure, that sounds amazing,” I replied through gritted teeth, staring at that cheap bastard Kibum. He owed me dinner, so he used his sly manipulation to guilt-trip these naïve boys into treating all of us for a meal.

“See? I told you guys she doesn’t hold grudges against people who provide her with food,” Kibum answered, not surprising me all that much. I was accustomed to his ways. Jungkook, Hoseok, and Jimin, on the other hand, were about to get exploited to Kibum’s heart’s content.

But hey, free food, there’s no way I’d say no to that.

Fifteen minutes later, we were walking down the alley, looking for a restaurant or a diner that was able to provide a table for six. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on our side.

It was a long stroll. All establishments were either packed with people, or they simply weren’t capable of catering for such a large group like ours.

We didn’t give up, though. In pairs, we walked further, our stomachs growling louder and louder. Hoseok and Jimin were leading the way, chatting about some hockey game somewhat this week. Right behind, Kibum was giving a lecture on relationships to Yeri, being the highly unnecessary third parent to her. And lastly, there was Jungkook and me, awkwardly trailing behind all of them, talking about nothing in particular, unable to find a ground topic for a proper conversation.

At some point, a man in an expensive black coat bumped into me, smashing his shoulder against mine. It was quite a powerful collision on the sidewalk, resulting in me falling right into Jungkook’s arms.

“Hey, watch where the hell you’re going,” I yelled, massaging my limb to ease the soreness, while the man didn’t seem to pay any attention to my angry shout.

“Hey, you should really apologize,” Jungkook hollered at the man, standing up for me. Unfortunately, the man didn’t reflect his misbehavior even after Jungkook stepped in. He barely turned his head around to check what that was about, dismissing it a few seconds later.

“Let it go; he’s not worth it,” I wrapped my hand around Jungkook’s shoulder, stopping him from confronting the rude asshat. “Karma is gonna get him,” I added with a smirk upon my face as I imagined how much cash he had in his wallet – which, in fact, was at the bottom of my pocket right now.

It ought to teach him a lesson.

“It’s your unlucky day,” Jungkook admitted, feeling sorry for my misfortune.

“Well… it’s not that bad,” I assured Jungkook with a happy beam, realizing my mistake the second the words left my mouth. Fantastic, I was just enthusiastic about the cash I found lying all over the ground. However, now, Jungkook must’ve thought I was into him.

Dear Lord, save me from this misunderstanding.

Before Jungkook managed to question my ambiguous comment, Jimin and Hoseok shouted. Apparently, they found a restaurant with a large enough table to fit us all.

At last!

Once inside, we quickly sat down, ready to skim through the menus. Honestly, we were all hungry way past the I-need-my-food-tasty stage, so we decided to order two giant pizzas and six pints of Christmas Ale beer.

“I think we should play a game before our food arrives,” Jimin proposed as he looked at the people by the table, not appreciating the awkwardness. Within Jimin were two wolves – one was a social butterfly, and the other was a people pleaser. Sitting in an uncomfortable silence irked him immensely. “How about a little integration, anybody?”

“You have to excuse him,” Hoseok interjected, trying to calm the angry crowd of grownups. “Jimin’s going to be a counselor on a hockey camp during the winter break, and sometimes, he forgets he’s not talking with middle-school pupils.”

“You’re never too old for some good old bonding,” Jimin fought his case, really keen on getting to know us better. “Especially over some beer,” he added when the waitress walked up to our table with our beverages.

Though none of us wanted to participate in Jimin’s fun activities, we eventually gave in, realizing his persistence was even more energy-draining than the bonding games themselves.

The rules were simple, you had to name three finds you love and three things you hate. Jimin went first, and it was actually quite funny to see the contrast between him and Kibum, who was the second to speak up.

“I love Mexican food, horror movies, and money,” I confessed when it was my turn, having no regrets. After all, we would never meet again. “I hate banana milk, wireless earphones, and doing laundry,” I added, completing the horrid task, making everyone at the table grow silent. Cocking my brow upward, I asked, “what?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok replied, still trying to comprehend the situation. “It’s just unbelievable.”

With each syllable that rolled off Hoseok’s tongue, I knew less and less. What the hell was going on? Could somebody explain to me what the fuss was all about?

“Basically, Jungkook loves all the things you hate,” Jimin finally explained, making Kibum cackle in entertainment.

“Ooh-la-la, the plot thickens,” Kibum snickered, laughing loudly, kicking his head backward.

“Ignore him. He’s just being a drama queen for no reason,” I interjected, ignoring Kibum’s ridiculous reaction.

“Guys, look, the food is ready,” Yeri said in excitement upon seeing our waitress walking toward us with delicious pizza in her hands. “I am so hungry,” she added, rubbing her hands together, licking her lips with appetite.

Thankfully, the rest of the evening went smoothly. After the beer and the food, the conversation sailed without any disturbance, everybody chiming in once in a while. A friendly atmosphere surrounded us, but we all felt it was the first and final meeting. Our groups had completely different vibes, and though we had somewhat fun, there was no point in forcing this friendship any further.

In an amicable mood, we parted ways.

Having dropped Yeri at her dorm, Kibum and I took an Uber to our shared apartment.

“I am dying,” I complained, stretching my arms as soon as I walked through the threshold of our comfy place. Having hung the coat, I fished out the stolen wallet. “I deserved a long bath,” I added, plopping down onto the couch, looking through the content of my newest possession.

“You really have to stop doing that. You’re gonna get caught one time,” Kibum mentioned as he sat down beside me, tearing the wallet out of my hands, browsing through the loyalty cards, looking for a bargain. “When did you even steal it? I was by your side the whole time,” Kibum wondered as he found a coupon for a free coffee amongst the plastic cards.

“You know what they say,” I started, counting the cash in my hands – almost two hundred bucks, not bad. “The first million is the hardest and is meant to be stolen,” I finished my thought, putting the cash into my purse.

“First of all, nobody has ever said that,” Kibum argued, groaning. It wasn’t the first time we had this conversation; at this point, we had this pep talk rehearsed to perfection. “You’re pushing your luck here. One day you’ll pick the wrong pocket.”

“What do you want me to say? I can’t stop now,” sighing, I replied. Maybe in the future, once I land a stable job with an adequate wage, I’ll quit. In this economy, it may be quite challenging, but that’s the goal. Right now, I was as poor as a church mouse, barely getting by each month on my level of living.

“I’m gonna be so pissed if the police catch you,” Kibum complained, giving up on his daily lecture. Trying to convince me was a vicious circle. Kibum felt as if he was trapped in some lame remake of Groundhog Day, only failing at knocking some common sense into his friend’s stubborn head.

“Take it easy. They won’t,” I mused with a light-hearted smile. “If you’re forgotten, you’re like super old. You’ll get bald if you keep worrying so much.”

“That’s a low blow,” Kibum mentioned, frowning in annoyance. Ever since he reached the dreadful thirty mark, it was his biggest insecurity. “Alright then,” he carried on, ready to attack me with just as strong jab. “What about Jungkook?”

“What about him?”

“You’ve had a moment.”

“What moment?” I inquired, pretending to be way clueless than I really was. “If, by moment, you mean that he basically nailed me into the ice, then yes.”

“You should’ve given him your phone number,” Kibum commented casually, and I turned my head around, avoiding his gaze. “Oh my, you actually gave it, I knew it,” he realized, looking right through me. “Finally, you need some. Later on, maybe he’ll talk you out of your bad habits,” Kibum carried on, blabbering nonsense.

“Don’t you think you’re getting way ahead of yourself?” I questioned, folding my arms over my chest. “I guess Jungkook’s a good guy, but he ain’t gonna call me.”

“You never know,” Kibum reasoned, and I sighed, walking away to the bathroom to run myself a relaxing bath, which was all that I needed.

 3 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

It was a terrible day.

First of all, I was still a bit sore after the ice rink accident. Then, I tried strolling along the bustling alleys, picking a few pockets. Unfortunately, people didn’t carry that much cash.

Having stolen three wallets, I only collected fifty bucks.

That was pathetic.

Sighing, I decided to call it a day.

Kibum would be so proud of me, I thought as I made my way to a random coffee shop, wanting to accidentally lose one of the wallets. That way, the rightful owner would have a chance of actually finding it if he decided to trace back his steps.

On my walk of shame back home, my phone randomly stopped playing music. Instantly, I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to fish it out of my pocket, knowing there was an incoming call waiting to be answered.

Normally, I’d either ignore it because I knew it was a spam call or just ignore it because I preferred texts to calls. Whoever opted to dial must’ve been devil’s spawn. No doubt.

Totally suing this guy.

Hmm… what does he want? I wondered as my thumb hovered over the answer icon on the screen. I wasn’t serious about suing him; it was just me teasing the poor guy. I didn’t actually mean it, and I thought it was obvious.

Before I managed to make up my mind about picking up the phone, Jungkook must’ve given up and hung up. Unfortunately, right when I was about to put it back in my pocket, I received another incoming call.

Totally suing this guy.

“Hello?” I asked, picking up the phone. Hopefully, he would check up on me and end the conversation. It was weird and uncomfortable, so it better be the last time.

“Hi, it’s Jungkook,” he said, sounding somewhat shy and timid. “From the ice rink, how are you feeling?” Jungkook inquired, and I sighed, getting mentally prepared for my reply.

“I’m better,” I answered shortly, not giving him any details on my condition. It was just a few bruises; I wasn’t dying. “Your knee left a bruise, but in a few days, I’m gonna feel all good,” I added, remembering the large mark on my thigh. It looked like a big ass hickey, but that’s the comment I was about to keep to myself.

“I’m really, really sorry,” he spoke through a tumult on his side of the call. He must’ve been in a crowded place, like a locker room packed with fellow hockey players or something. A second later, I heard a noise of shutting the doors close, assuming Jungkook must’ve left the room, wanting to continue this talk without any further disturbance.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” I reassured that he cared so him. It was adorable much about my condition, but it was starting to feel a little bit excessive. A regular amount of repentance would be understandable, but he was quite over the top.

“Actually, it’s not why I’m calling,” Jungkook admitted, taking me aback. Why else would he call then? “It was just an excuse,” he added, and I genuinely started to wonder what was going on inside his head. He didn’t want to ask me out, did he?

Nah, it didn’t make any sense.

Get a grip, woman.

“Oh, why are you calling me then?” I challenged him as I couldn’t wait any longer for the big reveal. “What is so important that couldn’t be a simple text?”

“Well…,” Jungkook started, and I smiled, hearing in his tone that he was beaming. “To be completely honest, I really suck at texting. One time, I texted back my friend after a few months, so yeah, I’d rather call,” he explained, and though that’s not my preferred way of communicating, I found it adorable.

“Nobody’s perfect.”

“So, I was wondering if you’d like to hang out,” Jungkook asked, and I became speechless.

“Really? Why?” I questioned as I couldn’t find any reason why Jungkook would like to meet up with me. Yesterday, I had been grumpy as fuck – it was hard to believe he wanted to see my face ever again.

“What do you mean why?”

“I wasn’t particularly nice to you yesterday,” I admitted, looking down at my feet.

“You were just angry, it happens,” Jungkook claimed, once again surprising me – he wasn’t just good-looking. Besides his gorgeous looks, he, most importantly, was a kind, soft-spoken person with a heart of gold.

“Yeah, but still, I was an asshole.”

“No, it must’ve been that spur-of-the-moment kind of attitude,” Jungkook brushed it off without my thought, and I sighed in relief. Thankfully, he didn’t think I was a complete bitch. “I would be pissed too if someone tackled me down at a public ice rink.”

“Could we please stop talk about it?” I proposed, willing to put it all behind us.

“Sorry,” Jungkook apologized sheepishly, and I giggled, shaking my head, unable to process how adorable he was. “So, back to the topic, I was wondering if you’d like to come to that charity hockey game tomorrow,” he trailed off, a little bit insecure about my answer. “And after that, we could grab some coffee. I mean, if you don’t have any plans, I’d really like to meet up,” Jungkook added, sounding like a ball of a blabbering mess.

“Hmm… tomorrow, I am busy in the morning and early afternoon. What time does the game begin?” I questioned, buying myself more time to think over Jungkook’s proposition. He was a good guy, and I’d love to hang out, but I still had doubts.

“At three o’clock!” Jungkook exclaimed in excitement, probably hoping I was available to attend this charity event. “We’re raising money for a winter camp for kids from St. Paul’s orphanage. That’s the one Jimin’s gonna volunteer at.”

Now, there was no way I could say no.

“I should be free by then,” I answered, hoping I wouldn’t regret my decision later on.

“Fantastic, see you tomorrow,” Jungkook exclaimed happily, and I giggled at his enthusiasm.

“Ayo, Jeon, what are you giggling at?” Someone in the background hollered, teasing Jungkook. Though I thought it was cute and playful, Jungkook must’ve felt so embarrassed that he hung up before I managed to say my farewell.

 2 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS 

According to Jungkook’s instructions, the charity game out to start around 3 in the afternoon. A bit too early if you ask me, but who am I to judge the authorities who organized it? Nonetheless, I put on a nice outfit (effortless though chic) and made my way to the university’s stadium, ready to sit through the entirety of the game, already suspecting it wouldn’t appeal to my preferences. It was far too brutal to be enjoyable.

I had no interest in hockey, nor even knew the basics; however, Jungkook wanted me out of all people to support him. Normally, I’d skip, but there was just something about him that made it really difficult to say no to him. There I was – on university grounds during the holiday break, heading to the sports department where I had never stepped my foot willingly.

It was a charity event our university annually hosted. To be completely honest, it was the first time I heard of it. Moreover, there was a high chance I wasn’t the only one. Right in front of the entrance, there was no queue – I was the only one, and it was suspicious as fuck.

Unless I had first-hand info about the beginning of the game, I would just turn around and leave. However, Jungkook had specifically said 3 p.m., so I walked up to the entrance, seeing a man distributing tickets. He must’ve been one of the volunteering students. Admirable.

With a deep sigh, I pushed the doors open and entered the building. “One ticket, please,” I spoke, pulling out my wallet to pay for the entry fee. It was all for charity, so I gladly paid up the round sum. These kids really deserved a treat, and I’d love to contribute.

“You’re the first one to arrive; you must be a hardcore fan of our hockey team,” the friendly man said, and I just giggled at this obvious misconception.

Me? A fan? A hardcore one at that? Wow.  

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m here to support a friend,” I answered, denying the accusations with a casual response. “Where should I go?”

“Right this way, the first doors on the left,” the man answered with a happy beam. “Seats are not assigned, so be free to sit anywhere you like,” he added, and I bowed, thanking him for the directions. Though I was near graduation, I had no idea how to move around the building.

Having pushed the heavy doors open, I made my way to the bleachers.

A few players were skating across the ice rink, while the area for spectators was empty. As if that wasn’t awkward enough, all the players looked at me, whistling like a bunch of starved wolves. What the hell was that all about?

Ooh! Ooh! 

“Wow, Jungkook, this girl really came,” one of the boys, probably Hoseok, shouted loud enough for me to hear. What? Did Jungkook talk about me with his teammates? What for? Or did they listen to us chat on the phone the other day? Even so, what’s with the reaction?

At first, I wanted to turn around and run away. I didn’t like the way they looked at me. It resembled a combination of concern for their younger teammate and playful support for whatever was about to stem between us. Ridiculous!

Then, I considered sitting in the last row, ignoring their curious glances. I’d probably pull a book out of my bag and devote myself to the plot for the duration of the game.

Unfortunately, none of my ideas seemed to be possible – especially not when one of the players with number 1 written on the sports uniform skated toward the railing. It must’ve been Jungkook. I mean… who else would that be?

Once he took off his helmet, I realized that my suspicion was right. It was indeed Jungkook with his messy, sweaty hair and a goofy smile upon his face. He was waving at me, enticing me closer to the ice rink.

“You really came,” Jungkook whispered when I walked up to him. “I really doubted you did,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at him. 

“If I didn’t, you would keep calling me,” I answered playfully, still unable to comprehend how, on earth, he preferred calling to texting. It was ridiculous; he couldn’t be that bad at replying as he had claimed. “And also, why am I here this soon? Where is everybody? Care to explain?” I asked, my tone slightly laced with anger. 

“Did I really say 3 o’clock?” Jungkook inquired innocently, staring at the big clock on the scoreboard. “My bad, I fucked it up, sorry,” Jungkook apologized, but I suspected his words weren’t entirely genuine. Apparently, he wanted me to come this soon, and I had to figure out why.

“Also, care to explain why your teammates stare at me like that,” I questioned, cocking my eyebrow, looking past Jungkook’s shoulder. The hockey team really seemed to be invested in what was going on between Jungkook and me, and I didn’t like the way they were gawking at me as if I had two heads growing out on my shoulders.

“Oh, I might’ve got caught talking to you yesterday,” he mentioned as if I didn’t already suspect that. “Apparently, I looked like an embodiment of teenage crush, and they keep teasing me about it. I am sorry if they creep you out,” Jungkook explained, and I beamed, thinking it was actually pretty cute.

“They’re your friends; that’s what friends do.”

“Hey, Jeon, quit flirting and get your ass on the rink. We’ve all gotta warm-up,” the coach hollered, urging Jungkook to return to his teammates. Though it was just an out of the season game, their coach didn’t want to lose anyway.

“Good luck, Jeon,” I whispered, shooing him away from me, really trying to give him a chance for a proper warm-up before the match. “Don’t let anyone tackle you down. It’s not that pleasant,” I added with an encouraging smile.

“I got it,” Jungkook spoke, sending me a cute wink.

Just as I asked him to, Jungkook skated away, only to come back around ten seconds later.

“By the way, you’ve got any plans after the game?” Jungkook asked, waiting for my answer with utter impatience. “I thought maybe we could grab something to eat.”

“Well… that depends,” I replied, and Jungkook cocked up his eyebrow.

“Depends on what?”

“Ask me again after you win the game,” I teased, giving him some extra motivation to try his best on the rink. “Go, they’re waiting.”

And with that, Jungkook finally got his head in the game.

The coach shouts tips and occasionally scolds players that aren’t on their best performance. In the meantime, people fill up the seats on the bleachers, excited to see the match and open their wallets for the laudable cause.

By the time the match finally begins, I am bored out of my mind. I gave hockey a fair shot, but it didn’t raise my interest in the tiniest bit. It just wasn’t my thing.

Thankfully, I had a newly purchased book in my bag to pass the time. It was just a Christmas themed erotica with a half-naked Santa with a six-pack on the cover. It wasn’t anything promising, but the holidays were around the corner, so maybe it’d put me in the right mood.

Though I didn’t have high hopes for the novel, it felt disappointing. The plot was cliché, and the pace was too rushed, but nonetheless, I’d still choose it over a hockey game. Contact sports weren’t really my thing, especially when it was giving me PTSD.

From time to time, my eyes would locate Jungkook on the rink. He was really out there, showing off his talents, making people gawk in admiration. He was one of the best players in his team, scoring goal after goal. Or whatever they score in hockey.

It was an even match, but ultimately, our team won by two points.

“On children’s behalf, I’d like to thank everybody for coming,” a woman in smart clothing spoke through the microphone. It must’ve been the orphanage director showing her gratitude for all the money they had managed through the ticket sale. “My heart really melts when I see how many people decided to help our children, especially in this difficult time of the year,” she recited, putting the microphone away from her mouth before a grateful tear rolled down her cheek. “Thank you so much!”

Shortly after, she handed the microphone to Jungkook’s coach.

“Hi, everybody, I’m coach Min,” he introduced himself, and the spectators clapped their hands in gratitude for leading the team towards victory. “I’d like to thank everybody for donating the money. I hope the kids will enjoy their winter break,” he added, looking at the crowd, proud of so many people gathered to support the cause. “However, if you’d like to contribute, even more, my team will wait outside with boxes. With this extra money, we would like to buy Christmas gifts for these amazing kids. I wish you all – Merry Christmas.”

Another round of applause echoed among the walls before people slowly started to head towards the exit. Taking my time, I followed the crowd, looking for Jungkook. It was difficult; people were feeling generous today.

“Over here,” I heard somebody call my name, so I turned around, recognized Jimin. He was standing a few meters away with a heavy box stuffed with cash. “Would you like to make some children happy?” Jimin asked, placing the box right under my nose, wanting me to contribute some more. “What do you say?”

Although I had already paid the entry fee, I still wanted to give more. All the goodness I had witnessed at the stadium pulled my heartstrings; it was impossible to say no now. Once I started, I just couldn’t stop.

With a genuine smile, I pulled out my wallet. I had plenty of cash in it. Everything I had stolen during this week. It was about four hundred bucks. Without a slimmer of doubt, the team would spend it wisely. Better than I ever could.

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of money,” Jimin asked, wondering if I was in the right state of mind donating so much.

“Yes, I am sure,” I confirmed, giving all of the money away. The feeling was deliberating, and it was really nice. “Oh my God, Jimin! What are you doing?” I asked in panic when Jimin put the box on the ground and picked me up, spinning around.

“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat before continuing, “am I interrupting something?” A familiar voice asked, making Jimin drop me down. Thankfully, I didn’t stumble. Somehow I found my balance before I hit my face against the pavement.

“Oh, Jungkook,” Jimin whispered, smiling awkwardly, almost as if we were caught cheating. “It’s not what it looks like,” he started, and I rolled my eyes. Literally, it was the worst phrasing he could choose, especially given the reputation this line holds. “I was just showing my gratitude after her generous donation.”

“Let’s just go,” I interjected before Jimin managed to embarrass me even more. With a smile upon my face, I grabbed Jungkook’s box and handed it over to Jimin. “Take care of that, okay?” I said, grabbing Jungkook’s hand, pulling him away from the campus ground.

Since it was quite chilly outside, Jungkook and I decided to grab drinks at the campus café. Having taken seats by the window in the back, we looked through menus to choose something delicious for our little informal date.

“Order anything you like; it’s my treat,” Jungkook mentioned before he proceeded to look through the menu. “You were my lucky charm today.”

“Well… of course, it’s your treat. I gave all my money away to charity,” I spoke, looking through the tea section for something I haven’t had before. “I’d like vanilla cinnamon tea,” I read out loud the position off the menu that really caught my attention.

“On it,” he added before he walked up to the counter to order. In a minute, he was back at the table, sitting comfortably at the other side of the table. “So… you and Jimin, huh?”

“Speaking of which, what kind of jealousy scene was that?” I inquired, teasing him for completely misunderstanding this situation.

“Sorry for that,” Jungkook apologized sheepishly, looking away. “It’s just it was so unexpected. I mean… you don’t know Jimin that well, and acting like that was quite strange,” Jungkook explained, and I nodded, trying to understand his reaction.

“Jimin’s cute. Is he single?” I asked, and Jungkook frowned upon my question, visibly upset with my wording. “What I meant is that I have a friend. I have a feeling they would click, you know,” I clarified, giggling when I saw relief wash through Jungkook.

“In that case, he’s very single,” Jungkook gladly answered, smiling brightly like an idiot. “After the last girl he was seeing dumped him a few months ago, he didn’t date. Maybe it’s about time he gets back to it,” he added, and I nodded, scribbling down my friend’s number on a piece of paper, sliding it over to Jungkook, believing he would pass it to Jimin.

“So… what are your plans for Christmas Eve?” I asked when the barista brought our order to the table. Apparently, Jungkook is quite a sweet-tooth. Beside my tea, he ordered a large cup of hot cocoa with roasted marshmallows on top along with four beautifully decorated cupcakes. I got cavities just by looking at it.

“I’m going Christmas shopping,” Jungkook answered, licking off some whipped cream off the pink cupcake. “I gotta buy gifts for the kids,” he added, and I smiled at the boy in front of me. Although I knew him only for two days, he kept surprising me.

In a good way, of course.

“Do you have any idea what I can get them?” Jungkook inquired, stuffing his mouth with the cupcake, enjoying his sweet treat. “There’s like thirty-five of them. I am clueless.”

“I don’t know… board games? Art supplies? Lego blocks? I’m sure you’ll figure this out,” I replied, suspecting I wasn’t much of a help.

“You could always come and join me,” Jungkook proposed, reaching for another cupcake. “I could use some help,” he added, pushing the tray with sugary treats towards me.

“I’d love to, but I will be at work, sorry,” I answered truthfully, now kind of regretting replying to that ad on Craigslist. “I’m babysitting tomorrow. Parents of three go on some business trip, and I have to watch them until their grandparents take over,” I explained, and Jungkook nodded, sipping his hot cocoa.

“Any plans after that?”

“I’ll just come back home and watch some Christmas movies on Netflix. This year, I don’t have time to go to my hometown. I gotta go to work as soon as Christmas is over,” I explained with a deep sigh. Although I wasn’t exceptionally family-oriented, it still felt a little bit odd to spend Christmas alone. “What about you?”

“My parents finally saved up enough money for the second honeymoon they always wanted to go, so there’s no real celebration this year,” Jungkook mentioned, showing real support for his parents. If that’s what they really wanted, he didn’t want to be a burden. “I’m really happy for them. Raising me and my brother wasn’t easy, so that’s the least we can do.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” I commented, wondering about Jungkook, his family, and their customs. “We could hang out tomorrow evening if you want to,” I proposed, and Jungkook beamed in utter joy, almost as if he waited for my offer.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Jungkook admitted, grinning like a child. “Come on, have some cupcake. I bought them for us.”

“I’m fine with my tea,” I replied, raising the cup to my mouth, taking a tiny sip. “I’m full just by looking at you eat,” I added, encouraging Jungkook to devour the rest of the goodies.

As if I didn’t know already, Jungkook proved to me one more time how charming he was. Though we had different opinions on some topics, we also had a lot in common.

This date was really informative. For example, I had no idea that Jungkook only plays in the hockey team for the scholarship. His true passion is photography and directing, and it’s actually his major. Moreover, he shared how much he likes to sings in the shower, for which he often gets teased by fellow teammates.

Maybe our first meeting was a tragedy, but the more time I spent with him, I began to realize that it was actually worth it to take this fall.

CHRISTMAS EVE

“My parents should arrive around seven,” the mother of three boys announced when she finally found a second to talk to me. “Jin is ten, Namjoon is eight, and Taehyung is five,” she added when the boys ran across the corridor, chasing one another.

“They’re adorable,” I commented, though I didn’t really mean it. I had no idea how the kids would behave when their parents would walk out the door.

“My sweet little angels,” she said with a deep sigh, feeling a bit sad that she had to leave her children alone on Christmas day. Unfortunately, whatever they had to tend to at work was way more important than spending holidays with their children. “How much money do I owe you?” She asked, being unaware of the amount her husband put on the advertisement.

“Five hundred,” I answered, and she nodded her head, giving me the correct amount.

Thankfully, the kids weren’t all that troublesome.

After their parents left for the airport, the children were a loud mess playing some console games. As long as they didn’t want me to participate in their fun activities, I didn’t mind the noise. I’d just simply wait for the grandparents to arrive.

Just two more hours; I can handle that.

“Can I have some candy?” Taehyung asked cutely, holding a bag of jelly beans in his hands. Usually, I’d say no. Kids tend to be hyperactive on the sugar rush. I didn’t want to have to deal with it, but then, I was quite impressed that he even bothered to ask for permission.

“Of course, sweetie, it’s Christmas,” I replied, tearing the packaging for him.

After the boys got bored, they wanted to play some board games with me. I wasn’t particularly interested in interacting with them but ultimately decided to join in. It’s been a while since I destroyed someone at Monopoly, so I might as well do it now.

Just one more hour; it’s almost over.

The boys had a particularly short attention span. The average game of Monopoly should take at least two hours – Jin, Namjoon, and Taehyung returned to their previous shenanigans, running around and screaming at one another maybe twenty minutes into the game.

Just when I was about to yell at them to keep quiet, I heard my phone ring. Under these circumstances, it was a blessing. At this point, I’d diligently answer all the questions the spam caller wanted to ask me. I was desperate for some interaction with an adult.

Having locked myself inside the bathroom, I answered the call, enjoying a little bit of peace and quiet. “Hello?” I asked, waiting for Jungkook to brighten my day.

“Hi, there,” he spoke cheerfully, “all gifts are bought and wrapped,” he added, proud of his today’s achievements. “What time do you finish up?”

“In an hour or maybe earlier,” I answered, looking at the wristwatch.

“Do you want me to pick you up? We could take a walk, and then just go with the flow,” Jungkook proposed, and I immediately said yes as I couldn’t wait for him to show up and rescue me from these children.

“I’d actually love that. I’ll text you the address,” I spoke, biting my bottom lip in excitement. One more hour and I’d walk away with five hundred bucks in my wallet.

When the clock struck seven o’clock, the grandparents were nowhere to be seen. They were running late, and I was growing impatient. Jungkook would be here any minute, and I wanted to leave. I tried calling their parents but to no avail. They must’ve already boarded the plane.

This situation was helpless – they were just little boys, I couldn’t leave them alone.

Thirty minutes later, I heard the bell. In a hurry, I opened the doors, wishing to see the grandparents on the other side. Unfortunately, much to my dismay, it was just Jungkook.

“Shall we go now?” Jungkook asked, eyeing me from head to toe, biting his lip. “Wow, you look amazing,” he added, and I stared down at my outfit consisting of a cute tight purple turtleneck, a short black skirt, and a pair of warm tights.

“I can’t go yet. Their grandparents aren’t here, and I don’t have a way of calling them,” I explained, and Jungkook sighed, taking off his shoes, willing to help me babysit.

“What is he doing here,” Jin asked, as he folded his arms around his chest, judging me for inviting someone to their household.

“He’s my friend who was supposed to pick me up after I’m done here, and since your grandparents are getting late, he’s staying, so be nice to him.”

“Whatever,” he grumped before running to the living room, joining his brothers on the couch.

We tried watching a movie. However, once again, the boys couldn't focus enough to last to the end of it. Then, I realized I royally fucked up by giving them sugar earlier. They wanted to play hide and seek, and I agreed with a tired sigh.

Unwillingly, I turned around to face the wall. I closed my eyes and began counting, giving them more than enough time to find the perfect hiding spot.

“Three, two, one,” I hollered, making sure they heard me.

The apartment was suspiciously silent and pretty dark. I could definitely feel that weird vibe often present in horror movies. First of all, I checked all the hiding spots in the living room. Then, when I was about to enter the corridor, I felt a presence behind me. Before I managed to react, a hand snaked around my body, covering my mouth, muffling my unexpected screams.

In a second, the person turned me around. I should’ve figured it out it was Jungkook. With a goofy smile, he mentioned me to remain quiet.

“What are you doing? This is not how you play this game,” I whispered, giving him a lecture, but Jungkook only laughed at my reaction.

“Look, they’re finally quiet. You should take your time finding the kids,” Jungkook suggested, and I hummed in agreement. He was right – I should cherish the silence. He was a genius. “Shh…,” he added, pressing his forefinger against his perfect lips.

Maybe the atmosphere wasn’t perfect, but I just couldn’t help myself. We were standing there in the dark, completely still. I couldn’t fight this temptation.

Acting out of my urge, I took a step forward and gave him a chaste kiss. It was a delicate brush of my lips against his, but it was just perfect. And apparently, I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed this innocent form of affection.

The moment I pulled away, Jungkook grinned, placing his hands on my hips. Staring down at me, he yanked me against his firm body, leaning forward for another kiss. Tenderly, his mouth moved, feeling my lips.

Within seconds, the kiss became even more passionate. Smiling, Jungkook began to nibble on the sensitive skin of my lips, and I hummed in pleasure. With my arms wrapped around his neck, I opened my mouth slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

“Fuck,” Jungkook loudly cursed as he bit my bottom lip, making me shriek in pain. At first, I thought he was just getting turned on, but then I realized what happened. It was Taehyung. He was standing right beside Jungkook, smiling as if he did something inappropriate. “He bit me!” Jungkook exclaimed, massaging his thigh, trying to ease the pain.

“He bit you?” I asked, being confused as ever. “Is that true, Taehyung?” I questioned the boy, but instead of answering me, he ran away to another room, chuckling like a maniac. Now, that was odd. “What is going on?”

The grandparents were supposed to arrive over an hour ago; I was losing my patience here.

“This kid bit me,” Jungkook carried on, unable to comprehend this entire situation. Well… he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wrap his head around this. What the fuck was wrong with them? “What is this?” Jungkook asked as he felt something on this thigh. “Ew, it’s his tooth!”

That was enough.

It was about time I set up some rules.

“Let’s find them, meet me in the living room in five minutes,” I ordered before we split up to search more ground. The boys were getting out of hand, and they had to be stopped. For the love of God, Taehyung bit Jungkook!

“Have you found them?” Jungkook hollered, and I shook my head.

They vanished.

“I know it’s very irresponsible, but how about ditching this place?” I offered, even though I already knew the answer. They were just kids; we couldn’t just walk out, leaving them alone.

“It’s tempting, but we shouldn’t do that,” Jungkook spoke, regretting making the adult decision. “Isn’t that Namjoon?” He asked, and I turned to look where he was pointing at.

“Wait there, young man!” I yelled, storming out of the room, following Namjoon. The second I turned to the left, Namjoon was nowhere to be seen. It was weird; he must’ve run into one of the rooms. Unfortunately, before I managed to make up my mind, which room I should check first, someone pushed me onto the ground. It made me fall on my knees, painfully bruising them. “What the fuck?” I looked behind my shoulder, seeing Jin bolt off to the living room.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked in concern as he approached me, helping me stand up. “What is wrong with them?”

“I have no idea. The boys seemed fine earlier,” I spoke, seeing Taehyung run towards us. In a matter of seconds, he jumped at Jungkook, wrapping his hands around his neck, dangling off his back. “Hold still,” I ordered, but Jungkook was in panic, afraid of earning another wound.

I wanted to peel the kid off Jungkook’s back, but there was something wrong with Taehyung. Though he was a good boy, right now, there was something inhuman about him. He behaved like a wild animal with rabies, and it crept me out as fuck.

Jungkook smashed his back against the wall, hoping Taehyung would loosen the grip around his neck. At this moment, Jungkook felt as if the little boy was strangling him.

Unfortunately, the impact didn’t do much help.

Then I saw it. There must’ve been something really wrong with them. Taehyung’s eyes were all black with a few black veins around them, making him look extra creepy.

“Fuck this shit, let’s go,” I yanked Jungkook’s arm, wanting to get the hell away from this apartment. There was something wrong with them, and it wasn’t a part of my job to find out what. I was about to babysit them until seven o’clock and leave.

It wasn’t a part of the deal.

“We can’t leave,” Jungkook argued, but I didn’t want to listen.

“We’ll call the police,” I spoke, desperately trying to convince Jungkook to escape this trap. “They’ll send someone here to check up on them,” I added, running to the living room to get my bag. “Let’s go before I drag you out of here.” Maybe my words sounded like a threat, but it successfully made Jungkook move.

“It’s locked,” Jungkook said when he tried to pull the doors open. Though I didn’t lock it after Jungkook’s entrance, the doors wouldn’t budge now. “Do you have a key?”

Trapped inside the apartment, we looked at each other. None of us knew what to do next.

Then, the lights went out.

As if we weren’t already crept out.

“What is the plan?” Jungkook inquired, searching for my hand to hold onto something.

“Stay calm,” I answered, not realizing that quoting the office wasn’t the best idea at the moment. “You try everything to open the doors. Kungfu the shit out of them if you have to,” I ordered, and Jungkook hummed in understanding. “I’ll distract the kids.”

It wasn’t the wisest decision to make, but somebody had to do it. I wasn’t exceptionally proud of myself, but what could a bunch of weird kids do to me?

“Be careful,” Jungkook whispered before I turned on the torch on my phone, looking for the kids around the apartment.

They had to be hiding in one of the rooms. Having taken a confident sigh, I pushed one of the doors open, stepping into Namjoon’s bedroom. The space was spotless, and it was hard to believe it was one of the children’s rooms.

“Game over, Namjoon,” I spoke, urging him to show himself. “You won,” I added, as I kneeled on the carpet to check if he was hiding under the bed. He wasn’t there. “It’s not funny,” I exclaimed, marching towards the closet, anxious about opening it.

It had to be done, though.

Abruptly, I opened the closet, hoping I’d be the first to react if it was indeed Namjoon’s hiding spot. Unfortunately, I wasn’t. Before I managed to prepare myself, Namjoon pushed me, making me painfully fall on my back.

“You little fucker,” I yelled, groaning in pain, earning probably another big ass bruise. “You’re gonna regret that,” I added, unable to control my anger any longer. I was getting easy on them, but it was enough. Now, I’d punch them in the face if I had to.

Namjoon was staring down at me with these creepy black eyes of a demon. His eyes studied my movement, almost as if he was a predator, waiting for the best moment to strike its prey. Then he screeched, jumping right at me in an attempt to bite me.

This time around, however, my reflexes were quicker. Before Namjoon landed on top of me, I rolled to the side, kicking him in his stomach, sending him flying across the room. I couldn’t believe I just did that, but when Namjoon stood up as if nothing happened, I understood I had to go all the way if I wanted to make it out alive.

Quickly, I jumped to my feet, determined to Bruce Lee kick the devil’s spawn into another dimension with my close-to-none self-defense skills. Women in stress could pick up cars, and I had to beat up an eight-year-old.

I could handle it.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Bouncing on my legs like on the ready mode in a fighting game, I stared at my opponent. Namjoon was the first to attack, and I just jumped at the side, not wanting to get bitten. Unfortunately, Namjoon still managed to scratch my arm, drawing blood.

“You’re dead,” I threatened when I saw that he tore the sleeve of my favorite turtleneck. With anger in my eyes, I approached him, throwing punches left and right. My fists collided against Namjoon’s jaw, but no matter how much force I used, it didn’t seem to have any impact on him. He didn’t feel any pain, and it pissed me off.

With a hiss, Namjoon jumped at me, wrapping his hands and arms around my torso. His mouth was dangerously close to my throat, so in a state of complete panic, I started to spin around, trying to shake him off of me.

Now, Namjoon’s room was a complete mess – especially when I walked into a mirror, smashing it into a thousand pieces. Namjoon and I were rolling in the broken glass, earning plenty of tiny cuts across our bodies.

“That’s enough,” I warned him as I spat blood on the carpet. “Say hello to Satan for me, will you?” I added before I pushed him out of the window without any regrets. Namjoon kept screaming, but when his tiny body smashed against the pavement, the peculiar screeching finally stopped. “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker,” I whispered, unable to control myself.

I just killed a kid, and the first thing that came to my mind was quoting Die Hard.

It wasn’t the time for celebration. There were still two children running around the apartment.

Looking around Namjoon’s room, I found a baseball bat. That’ll do, I thought to myself as I stared at my new-found weapon.

“Jungkook!” I shouted.

Once I was in the corridor, I saw the doors. They were open, but Jungkook was out of sight. Did he seriously ditch me here alone? No, it wasn’t possible. Jungkook would never do that.

The boys must’ve done something to him.

One by one, I checked all the rooms, but I found nothing. It almost felt as if I was alone in this creepy apartment.

“Cut the crap, boys,” I hollered, ready to smack anybody in the face with my baseball bat. I was done playing games. I just wanted to go home and wrap myself in blankets in front of a television. “Come out! I don’t have the whole day,” I added, looking around.

I was on high alert. Adrenaline and other hormones were running through my veins, enhancing my senses. Then I heard it – the sound was coming from the staircase. Quickly, I ran out of the apartment, checking the reason behind this commotion.

It was a yellow ball. Somebody must’ve thrown it. Leaning over the railing, I looked up, trying to spot the villain behind this prank. Then I heard giggles. It must’ve been Taehyung.

“Get down here, right now,” I ordered, but the boy didn’t listen. “You’re going to be so dead when I get up there,” I warned, skipping two steps at a time, climbing the stairs.

On the top of the stairs, Taehyung was sitting comfortably, playing with a yo-yo. His face was stretched into a creepy smile, and in all honesty, it gave me chills.

“Get down here,” I repeated myself, but Taehyung didn’t even budge. “Where is Jungkook? What did you do to him?” I asked and received no answer.

Angrily, I walked upstairs, swinging my baseball bat around. Taehyung tried to mess with me with his yo-yo, but I managed to catch the toy and pull it out of his hands.

Like a maniac, I swung the bat, repeatedly hitting Taehyung’s head until it turned into a pulp. Wiping the blood off my face with the back of my hand, I turned around, studying the area. There was one more child out there, and I couldn’t lose my focus just yet.

“Where are you, Jin?” I shouted, waiting for a sign from the boy.

“Here,” Jin whispered, as he emerged from the shadows, pushing me off the stairs.

It was a painful fall, but thankfully, I didn’t break my neck. I felt a pulsating sensation in my left ankle, but besides that, I was fine.

Groaning in pain, I watched Jin slowly descend the stairs. His weird-ass demon eyes were drilling holes in my face, his lips turning into a devilish sneer. Step by step, he made his way downstairs, enjoying the way I tried to crawl away from him. The anticipation was draining me of energy; he was going to murder me, and I could just watch him do it.

“Help!” I shouted though I doubted anyone could hear me. “Somebody call the police!” I carried on but to no avail.

Jin was maybe thirty centimeters away from me, savoring my misery. Slowly, he tilted his head to the side, showing me his teeth, ready to tear me apart.

I had maybe a minute of life left, and I was going to spend it looking into my killer’s eyes.

That was sick.

When Jin was about to jump at me, I heard a noise coming from the apartment.

The scene unfolded in front of my eyes so soon, I couldn’t properly react to it. Right before Jin took a final leap towards me, Jungkook emerged out of the apartment with a fireplace poker, piercing it through Jin’s neck.

Jin’s blood, like a fountain, squirted on me. With my eyes closed, I waited for this moment to end. A few seconds later, I could hear Jin’s dead body collapse to the side.

“Are you okay?” I asked Jungkook, who dropped onto the floor beside me in shock.

“I just killed a kid,” Jungkook whispered, still unable to process what just happened. “When you walked away to look for the kids, I heard a noise in the kitchen. It was Jin, and when I entered, he began throwing shit at me. That motherfucker cut my face,” he added, showing me his fresh wound on his beautiful cheek. “Then, he stabbed my side with the knife and locked me in the closet,” he added, squeezing his side, trying to numb the pain.

“Let’s get the hell away from here,” I spoke, trying to stand up. It was difficult with all my wounds, but I couldn’t stand being inside this building.

CHRISTMAS DAY

We just killed three children.

At first, we had no clue what to do next, but then, I listened to my voice of reason – Jungkook. No matter how bad it looked, we had to go to the police.

Hand in hand, we slowly walked to the nearest police station. People were turning their heads when we were passing by them. I couldn’t blame them. I looked like Carrie with better clothing, while Jungkook seemed to have survived a zombie apocalypse.

When we entered the police station, everybody stared at us. Wobbling, we approached the front desk. “We killed three children,” I admitted, realizing how bad it sounded without the context.

The policeman was shocked. He didn’t witness this kind of thing regularly.

A few minutes later, we were escorted to a questioning room, where we could describe everything in great detail. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem to buy our story, thinking we were trying to pull some kind of a prank.

Taking all precautions, they called in an ambulance. We were seriously injured, and we needed some medical care. Though the doctor did a great job, I’d kill to get some better painkillers.

Once our wounds were dressed, the police locked us in custody. We had to wait until a pair of policemen checked the apartment and secure the evidence.

“Merry Christmas, Jungkook,” I whispered as I looked at my wristwatch, realizing it was already past one o’clock. “I know we had different plans, but out of all people, I am glad I was stuck there with you. You saved my life,” I carried on, looking at Jungkook fondly.

“We killed three children,” he replied, still shaken after what had happened. Perhaps, he didn’t need me now, but I really wanted to hug him and tell him that everything’s gonna be alright. Too bad that we were locked in two different cells.

“In self-defense,” I added since Jungkook often seemed to forget that part.

After ten minutes of painful silence, one of the guards walked up to the custody, unlocking our cells. What else did they want to know? We already said everything we knew.

“You’re free to go,” the guard announced, surprising us immensely. “It was an elaborate prank, but don’t ever do that again, or else, we’re going to seriously put you in jail,” he warned, urging us to leave.

“I don’t understand,” I wondered out loud, unable to process what was going on. “I thought you sent your men to check out the crime scene.”

“We did, and the apartment you wanted us to check out was empty. We talked with the landlord, and he said this flat has been vacant for the last year,” the guard explained, making me and Jungkook gasp in shock.

What the fuck was going on?

In complete silence, with our heads hanging low, we exited the police station.

“What now?”

“Let’s just go home and watch Die Hard,” Jungkook whispered, still trying to wrap his head around what had happened inside the apartment. We almost died in there. However, when the police checked it, it was like we had never been there.

My apartment was closer, so we both headed there. Our moves were robotic, our heads were empty. At this point, we just wanted to sit down and keep our minds busy, so we wouldn’t try to analyze what happened back there.

It wasn’t a figment of our imagination. Our wounds were concrete evidence that we were telling the truth. Unfortunately, the police didn’t want to believe us. However, as the saying goes – no body, no crime.

In light of the law, we were innocent.

As soon as we entered my apartment, we sat down on the floor, resting our back against the sofa. Mindlessly, I grabbed the remote and turned Die Hard on Netflix.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I whispered as I interlaced my fingers with Jungkook’s, resting my head on his shoulder. “Or we can just pretend it never happened. Let’s just say we watched a really weird movie or went to a hardcore escape room,” I added, studying Jungkook’s arm tattoos, getting lost in his skin art.

“I’ve known you a few days,” Jungkook started, staring into my eyes. “But I’ve experienced more stress than in my entire life altogether,” he added with a sigh, placing a delicate peck against my neck.

“Actually, my life is pretty boring,” I admitted, though I knew where Jungkook’s words were coming from. I wouldn’t believe myself, either. “It took a 180 on that ice rink,” I reasoned, trying to find a connection.

“You’re beautiful,” Jungkook confessed genuinely, staring at my face with his big sparkly eyes. He was bullshitting me, but I didn’t have enough energy to argue with him. How could I be beautiful? My hair was all sticky due to all the blood which the doctor hadn’t washed off. My skin was covered with cuts and bruises. Even my clothes were ripped. I was certain Jungkook didn’t mean it, but I wasn’t going to admit that.

“You’re beautiful, too,” I beamed, teasing him. “Even after what we’ve been through today, you’re absolutely breathtaking,” I added, and Jungkook looked away, trying to hide his red cheeks. Carefully, I cupped his face, pressing another delicate kiss against his lips.

Just like feathers, our lips moved against each other. No rush, no hastiness, just pure delight.

Though we were both sore and exhausted, we took our time. Maybe it was past three o’clock now, but we didn’t care. I could stay up all night, kissing him like that.

Slowly, Jungkook’s hands found purchase on my hips, carefully pulling me closer on top of his thighs. Gently, I began rubbing my sex against his muscular legs, trying not to make him hiss. His beautiful thighs had already suffered enough damage when Taehyung had bitten him – I didn’t want to inflict any more pain.

“I wish I could fuck you the way I want to,” Jungkook confessed, taking me aback with his filthy words. He was a good soft boy with a heart of gold; how could he talk dirty to me like that? It was out of his calm and collected character, but I absolutely loved it.

“Don’t worry, I think I’m gonna stick around at least until you’re fully recovered,” I answered with a teasing tone as I reached down to his zipper, freeing his semi-hard cock. “Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve? Or Valentine’s Day?” I questioned, but Jungkook was too busy to answer right away, ripping my tights apart.

“Actually, I do,” Jungkook mentioned with a lopsided smirk upon his face. “I’m gonna be sitting here between your thighs, buried deep inside your pussy. How do you like that?” He asked mischievously, biting my bottom lip before I managed to reply.

“I hope you’re not all talk,” I answered, staring down at his dick. Carefully, I pulled it out of his pants, giving it a few strokes before I raised my hips, slowly sinking down on his length. “Mmm…” I purred, feeling a pleasant stretch.

“I should’ve prepped you,” Jungkook whispered as he felt my walls slowly adjust to his girth.

“Nah, it’s all fine,” I spoke, getting all comfortable on his dick. “There’s always a next time.”

With a languid, stable pace, I rocked my hips back and forth, riding him. Going this slow allowed me to properly feel every inch of him. It was intimate, and I enjoyed it much more than any mindless pounding, which didn’t always get me off. With Jungkook under me, I was in complete control. He was obedient and responsive to my movements, really making it look easy to push me over the edge.

“I’m coming,” I moaned, feeling the approaching orgasm. Jungkook, instead of messing with my tempo, grabbed my hips, helping me maintain my current pace. “Fuck, Jungkook,” I hissed when he gently pushed his cock deeper inside of me, being seconds away from his own release.

“Come around my cock,” Jungkook ordered, and I obeyed his order, falling into a million pieces on top of him, screaming his name. Thankfully, Jungkook’s hands held me in place. Otherwise, I’d once again collapse onto the floor. “Argh,” Jungkook grunted, shooting his load inside of me. “I want to go again,” he added as soon as he calmed down after the powerful orgasm.

“I think it’ll have to wait,” I answered, though I’d love to go another round. “We can try in the morning. Right now, I need a shower,” I added, and Jungkook nodded his head, resting it between my boobs, too lazy to let me go.

He was still balls deep inside of me, and his cum was slowly oozing out of my pussy, but none of us wanted to move. It felt as pleasant as it was nasty, but we didn’t mind.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Jungkook asked innocently, batting his eyelashes in an attempt to woo me. “That would save lots of water,” he added, and I didn’t want to argue with his reasoning.

“Why the hell not? Let’s go before I change my mind,” I spoke, giving him a hand, helping him stand up. “But,” I added, sternly staring at the boy beside me. “Until we’re fully recovered, it’s just a shower.”

“Sure thing.”

[yourdreamscenarios]

When you hate someone they’re close to

∙ Request ♡ ∙ Word count: 4,603 ∙ RM, Jimin, V, Jungkook ♡ 

∙ Jin

“I’m coming!” You roared, drawing your robe closer around you and rushing down the stairs. It was three a’clock in the morning, it was practically still the middle of the night, normal people were supposed to be in bed right now. You’d been one of those people, that was until a crazy person had decided to come murdering your doorbell and bang on the front door. Who the hell was it? You were already annoyed because someone had the nerve to wake you up like this in the middle of the night. If you’d had to find out that whoever this was didn’t have a good reason to be here you were going to knock them out. On bare feet you marched through the living room, into the hallway and all the way toward the front door. It wasn’t cold in the house, but the temperature of the air compared to the warmth you’d felt underneath the comforter in your bed was such a huge difference that it caused you to shiver. You weren’t supposed to be here. 

You were supposed to be having sweet dreams with your boyfriend by your side. You wondered if he had even heard the sound of the doorbell going off? He hadn’t moved or hadn’t given a single sign that he was planning on making his way downstairs with you. You weren’t even sure if it was a very smart move to open the door for someone in the middle of the night? What if it was someone who wanted to rob you but who wanted to get in without making things hard for himself? The doorbell resounded against the walls another time and you groaned in frustration as you stopped in front of it. Peering through the peep hole you noticed a girl standing standing on the other side. But even with the porch lights on it was too dark to recognize her. You frowned as you reached fro the locks and began to open them. She didn’t look like one of your fiends, yet you were sure you had seen her before.  

As soon as you pulled the door open a freezing breeze traveled past your bare legs, causing your muscles to tense. “What the hell…” You started, but were unable to finish your sentence as the strange girl in front of you lifted her head and her face stared right back at yours. How convenient. Wonderful. The mocking thoughts rang inside of your mind as she looked at you, her gaze glassy, as if she hadn’t really seen you yet. She blinked her eyes a few times as you shot her an annoyed look. This definitely wasn’t worth for you to sacrifice your sleep. “Where’s Seokjin?” Her words were slurred as she extended a hand in hope to lean it against the wall to support herself. Instead she missed, and she almost tumbled right onto the floor of your hallway. Reaching forward you steadied her, grabbing her by the elbow. Though as soon as you knew she was secure on her own feet again you let her go, as if touching her burned you. That was what it felt like, to be quite honest. 

You glared at her, wondering where she got the nerve to come looking for your boyfriend in the middle of the night. She was staring past you, probably looking for him. The whelm of alcohol floated towards you, making you scrunch your nose in disgust. Of course she was drunk. She was already unbearable to deal with when she was sober, you didn’t even want to know what she was like in this state. You were just about to tell her that Seokjin was in bed, just like every other normal human being in this country and she had to get her ass off your porch, when all of a sudden you heard a voice coming from behind you. “Yuri?” Your boyfriend’s soft and disbelieving voice caused you to squeeze your eyes in surrender. Couldn’t he stay in bed for just a while longer? At least until you could have slammed the door close in her face and you could have pretended as if nothing had happened. 

Now, you had to watch how she stumbled inside of your house, and threw her unsteady body on top of her ex boyfriend. Why couldn’t she just leave the two of you alone? He had been clear to her so many times before, but for one reason or another she just couldn’t let it go, she couldn’t let him go. Even though you had heard the story and she was obviously the one who had broken up with her. “Seokjin! Please, I miss you!” She sounded like a wailing child and for a second you were sure she was about to get down on her knees and start begging him to take her back. She didn’t even seem to notice that you were still standing here. “Are you drunk?” Seokjin asked astonished, his eyes slipped towards you for a moment before they slipped back to her. His hands rested on her upper arms to keep her from dropped herself on the floor and you heaved a deep sigh as you shut the door behind yourself. Something told you that he wasn’t planning on sending her away. No matter what had happened between the two of you, he wasn’t able to bring up the hate which you felt towards her. “I just…I just need you! You don’t know how hard it is!” She mumbled again, her head lulling to one side. 

She was making a complete fool of herself and she didn’t even seem to realize it. That was probably the nice part of being drunk, not knowing that you were embarrassing yourself. She could only hope she also wouldn’t be able to remember this tomorrow morning. It was obvious that Seokjin was unsure of what to do, knowing that if he kept her here he would piss you off, but also knowing he couldn’t kick her out while she was in this state. So you decided to help him, your sleep long forgotten. “Take her to the couch, I’ll get her some water.” You grumbled and you didn’t look at either of them as you walked past them. Her desperation was sickening. It wasn’t like you were scared to loose him, she would never be able to get him back again, not after what she had done. But you hated that she continued to show up inside of your lives and tried to break the two of you apart. It had to end, because you weren’t planning to keep on taking this. 

Arriving inside of the kitchen you had the feeling as if this was the first time you were able to breath again since you had gotten out of bed. There was a big chance she’d be sleeping on your couch tonight, since she wasn’t capable of getting home. You were in no mood to deal with her while she was hangover in the morning. You hauled open one of the kitchen cabinets to find a set of glasses. Grabbing one you walked towards the fridge and took a bottle of ice cold water, hoping it might help her clear her mind. You were just filling up the glass when you felt someone appear in the kitchen behind you, but you didn’t turn around to look who it was. “She’s in the living room. I can’t believe she showed up here.” Seokjin muttered quietly, obviously trying to make sure she wouldn’t hear him. It was a miracle she hadn’t followed him in here already. Perhaps she had already passed out. You remained silent as you spilled some of the water on the counter, causing you to grind your teeth in frustration. If this was the way the day was about to stay then it surely wasn’t going to be a good one. 

You could feel him nearing and before you knew it you could feel his chest pressed up against you, his hands placed on your shoulders reassuringly. “Don’t be mad.” He whispered softly, squeezing your muscles softly. Throwing aside the piece of cloth you had used to wipe up the mess you had created you sighed deeply before turning around to face him. “Listen, I absolutely hate her. But I’m trying to work something out for you.” You growled, sending him a glare, even though you knew none of this was his fault and he hadn’t wished for any of this himself. Still, it was his ex girlfriend, which meant it was his responsibility. Yet, he didn’t seem to be affected by your angry look, since the corners of his lips turned up into a smile. “I know, and I really appreciate it. How about we call a cab and we send her home?” He suggested, and you could feel a weight falling from your shoulders. He chuckled slightly as he lowered his face towards your and pressed a kiss on your lips. 

∙ Suga

“I mean, I don’t understand why he started dating you in the first place. It’s obvious he is way out of her league! He could get so much better than that… I can’t even think of a suited word to describe her really. I mean, have you looked at her, like really looked at her? She’s up to something, I can tell! She only wants him for his money and his fame. Just wait for it, she’ll break his heart and then we’ll be the ones who have to put the pieces back together.” She went on and on, and to be honest you really didn’t want to hear this. But somehow you were frozen, your feet glued against the tiles. From the second you had walked into the door earlier tonight you had noticed that something was off. Yoongi’s mother had been smiling in your face all night, but something about it had been so fake. It was the same as always, she was always nice in your face, but behind your back she’d go around telling people the nastiest things about you and she would tell everyone how much she hated you. Well, the feeling was mutual. 

Ever since you’d first met her she had been trying to break you and your boyfriend apart. She was convinced that you weren’t right for her son, and no matter how much you tried to get into her favor, it just didn’t work. You had told Yoongi about this many times before, but he told you that it was just a phase, that it would pass. He said she just had to get used to the idea of her son being in love and having a new woman in his life. Well, she should have gotten used to it after two years, and she still hadn’t. You were done flattering her and trying to solve this. You weren’t planning on doing an effort for someone who would never accept it. To her you would never be good enough. One of the reasons was probably that you didn’t owe enough money, that you didn’t come from a rich family. In her eyes the fact that you made her son happy wasn’t enough for you to deserve him.

You flinched when a hand landed on top of your shoulder, squeezing it a little. You hadn’t meant to get caught, but it wasn’t really like you were trying to be very subtle. You were standing in the middle of the doorway of the kitchen, blocking it for everyone who was trying to get in or out. It was a miracle she hadn’t noticed you standing here herself, but she was too busy gossiping about you against her husband to take notice of you. To her you were just a small problem she had to get rid of, nothing more than that. But after two years, she had found out that you weren’t that easy to eliminate. “You shouldn’t be listening to this.” Yoongi’s voice whispered inside of your ear and you sniffed at it. Why shouldn’t you? They were talking about you, while they were very much aware there was a chance you would hear. Actually, you were quite sure she had meant for you to catch up on this conversation. 

It was probably another way for her to hope that this would get too much for you and you would leave anyway. You stared holes in her back from where you were standing and for the first time since you had been introduced to her you felt like standing up for yourself. You couldn’t allow someone to speak like this about you. She didn’t even take the chance to get to know you, so how could she possibly think she knew what your intentions were with her son? As if he could feel the tension in the air rising Yoongi reached for your hand and he quickly started tugging you away from the kitchen. The only reason he succeeded in doing so was because you let him. You weren’t up for another fight. He halted when the two of you got into the living room, where he was sure the two of you could have a private conversation without being eavesdropped. 

The table in the middle of the room was still set to have a relaxing family dinner. But to you, a dinner with his family could never be of such sorts. To be honest you had no desire to stay here. You just wanted to go home, she could stuff herself with her distasteful turkey. You didn’t know what you had done to deserve all of this. “I’m so sorry, I really hoped she would’ve come around this time.” He muttered, stepped towards you and placed both of his hands on your upper arms, trying to soothe you. The both of you knew that nothing was going to change her opinion of you. He had tried to talk to her so many times before, had asked her to give you a break and to leave you alone, but she simply wouldn’t listen. You had already given up your hopes of thinking that something might change. The only reason why you were still putting up with them was because you loved Yoongi so much. If it weren’t for him you would have walked out of this a long time ago. “You have every right to be angry.” He assured you and you sighed deeply before you lowered yourself on the couch. 

You had passed the feeling of anger a very long time ago. Anger wasn’t the right word to describe the way you felt towards her. You had never directly told him, because no matter what happened between you and her, she was still his mother and you had to respect that. But you couldn’t keep on taking this. You weren’t someone who was going to ask him to choose between his girlfriend and his mother, but it wasn’t going to be very easy to maintain it. You didn’t want to think of her trying to ruin your wedding one day, or when you’d finally get children and she would try to turn them against you. “Listen, I absolutely hate her. But I’m trying to work something out for you. She’s your mother, after all.” You muttered, rubbing your hands across your face in the hope it would help you release some tension. You had never taken those words inside of your mouth before when he was around. You had told your friends about it, and they all told you that you were right. But telling your boyfriend that you hated his mother, it seemed kind of heartless. 

But you weren’t heartless, you had just run out of patience and you were so done with this game. It was like there was a secret war going on between the two of you, but no one else was allowed to notice. But you were sick of hiding it. Yoongi nodded, his look harsh as he lowered himself on the sofa beside you. You knew he wasn’t going to get angry with you or he wasn’t going to lash out on you. After all he had been on the front line all along and he knew everything his mother had done to you, everything she had put you through. One of the reasons why he loved you was because you didn’t allow anyone else to mess with you, this was one of those moments. “I get it, I really do. But what do you expect from me?” He asked, turning his body towards you and sending you a questioning look. You knew what he was asking. He wanted to know if this was where you had reached to point of making him choose. You detested the fact that he only dared to think that you would ever do such thing. You would never sink that low. “Nothing Yoongi! She’s your mother for God’s sake! I guess loving someone always comes with a prize.” 

“it seems like the prize I have to pay is trying to get along with a mother in law who absolutely hates me. Though as long as I don’t have to see her every day, I guess that’s a prize I’m willing to pay.” You said, and you could see the way he rolled his eyes at you because of your dramatic statement before he smiled at you. He curled his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side for a very uncomfortable hug. But it was still nice, it was what you needed. “Because you can’t live without me.” He joked softly and you snorted. Yet, you didn’t say anything, because perhaps it was slightly true. Pecking your temple once more he let go of you and stood up from the spot on the couch. “How do you feel about some pizza?” He asked and you frowned at him in confusion. You couldn’t order take out, his mother would kill the both of you. But then he extended his hand to you and nodded his head towards the door. “Let’s get out of here.” 

∙ J Hope 

Sitting on the couch you watched the two of them laugh because of a joke you couldn’t quite understand. You tugged your lips up into something that looked like a smile. To be honest you didn’t really want to be here. You didn’t mind them spending time with each there by themselves, it wasn’t like you were jealous of her, no at all. But him trying to bring the two of you together and trying to blend you into the friendship they owned probably wasn’t a very good idea. You just hadn’t been able to think of the right way to tell him yet because you didn’t want to hurt his feeling. He liked her and he loved you and of course he wanted the two girls who were important in his life to get along. But not every dream could become reality. They were best friends and he had known her long before you had come into the picture. They had been through things together you had no clue of, they had made stories together you had never read. Still, he tried so hard to make it seem as if you had been there that sometimes it was quite painful. 

You wished he would just stop trying so hard, because this wasn’t going very well. When they were done laughing he patted his knees in joy, before eying the two of you in turn. “I have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” He said and you already guarded yourself, knowing that nothing good was about to happen when he left the two of you by yourselves. He probably expected the two of you to have some great conversations together which friends had, two girls who cared about the same person. But nothing was less true. She didn’t like you one bit, and you could only say you felt the same way. As soon as he got up from the couch and walked out of the room the sphere turned icy and you had the desire to turn up the heating in the hope to fight it. You tried your hardest to avoid her gaze, but after a few seconds of ignoring the way she was glaring at you, you gave up. 

Sighing deeply you returned her stare, making sure your eyebrows were meeting each other in the middle of your face in dislike. She always looked at you as if you were the dirt underneath her shoe, as if you weren’t worthy her company. She always did it when Hoseok wasn’t near, so he surely couldn’t overhear what she said to you. The two of you both knew it would break his heart to figure out what things were really like between the two of you. “Can’t you just go hang out with your own friends? Why do you always have to be around when Hobi and I meet up? It’s so freaking annoying.” She pointed out and you sniffed, throwing your hair back over your shoulder. As if she had the right to say such thing. She wasn’t the one who felt left out of conversations whenever the two of them were together, she wasn’t the one who was always forced to act as if nothing was wrong as soon as she left and Hoseok asked why you were being so quiet. She could just walk out and pretend as if nothing happened. 

Why couldn’t she put in some effort as well? It wasn’t like she had to see you every single day. “I don’t understand why he likes you anyway.” She suddenly muttered and your eyes almost bulged out of your skull because of it. She was always mean, but she had never said something like this before. It seemed like her true colors were finally starting to show. Whenever Hoseok wasn’t around she would show them to you a little more and it seemed like you were finally about to find out what this had been about all this time. “What the hell if you problem?” You asked, your voice a little sharper and louder than you had meant for it to be. By now you were no longer worrying about your boyfriend overhearing the two of you. Perhaps it was time for him to find out the truth. She let out a sarcastic laugh, one that made all your bones rattle. 

“I thought that would be obvious by now, but it seems like you’re a little clueless, aren’t you?” She was speaking to you as if you were a little child who needed to be mocked because of doing something bad. You didn’t like the tone she was using against you one bit. Glaring at her you squeezed your fingers into two tight fists, hoping it would stop you from shouting at her. Because you really wanted to do that right now, you wanted to yell at her to stop acting like an idiot. “Hoseok is my friend! And you stole him from me!” She spat at you and you let out a outraged chuckle. This had to be a joke. You hadn’t stolen anyone from anyone. You had Hoseok had fallen in love, back then you hadn’t even known that he had a best friend. Yet, you had never made a problem of it, not even when he had told you that his best friend was a girl. You trusted him and you loved him, you wanted him to be happy. If she would care for her best friend half as much as you did she would understand and she would try to get along with you. You were his girlfriend and you weren’t planning on leaving his side any time soon. “Hoseok is still your friend! I haven’t done anything.” You said, getting up from the couch and planning to make your way towards the kitchen. 

Perhaps it was better if you gave her some room to breathe. She obviously needed to cool down. But as you walked forward to get past her, she surprised you by placing her hands against your shoulders and giving you a harsh push. You squealed as you stumbled backwards, hitting the tiles with a loud thud. You squirmed when your butt hit the ground, knowing that the impact of the blow would leave a bruise. She was towering over you, pointing an accusing finger at you and for the first time since you had met her you actually felt terrified. “What are you doing?!” Hoseok’s voice rang around the room and you could watch her cringe. She obviously hadn’t expected him to walk in and see her like this. You stared up at her with big eyes as she turned yourself towards him, sending him an innocent look. “Hobi, I swear this isn’t what it looks like.” She started, but by the way he looked at her you could already tell that her excuses were no longer reaching him. She had messed up badly this time. 

“I already told you that you have to stop doing this Yoona! She is my girlfriend, why can’t you understand that?” He breezed and you were shocked to find out that it seemed like the two of them had spoken about this before. So it wasn’t a secret to him that she totally disliked you. Your head seemed to be spinning because of everything you had to take in. She stuttered something you couldn’t quite understand, but it seemed as if he was done listening to her. He didn’t get angry very often and especially not at either one of you, but it seemed as if she had pushed too far this time. His finger was pointing into the direction of the door as he shot her an angry look. “Get out.” He growled and she tried to fight him for a little moment, before she sniffed and she turned on her heels and made her way out. She didn’t even look at you, didn’t apologize for working you towards the ground. To be honest you weren’t sure how to feel. Hoseok quickly made his way towards you, crouching down beside you. 

“Are you okay? Gosh I can’t believe she did this.” He muttered as he extended his hand to you as to check on the damage, but you slapped it away. His eyes widened in surprise but he didn’t reach out to you again as you crawled up into a seated position. Your muscles were yelling at you and you could tell that a few spots were going to be extremely sore tomorrow. “I can’t believe you already knew the way she felt about me and you never asked me about it!” You yelled at him. You never shouted at him, so to say that you were both astonished was probably an understatement. He blinked his eyes at you a few times before he spoke up. “I did! but you always told me that you were fine and I was seeing ghosts.” He remarked and you slumped your shoulders at that. He was right, you had been so busy to keep him from getting hurt that you hadn’t realized what had been going on all this time. You sighed as you combed your fingers through your hair. “Listen, I absolutely hate her. But I’m trying to work something out for you…” You mumbled and he smiled softly at you before wrapped his arms around you. “I know…”

∙ BTS Masterlist ♡ ∙ Masterlist ♡

[elvendara]

YOI

Branching out and out of my Mystic Messenger cocoon. Let’s be real though, it’s my Yooran cocoon. Anyway, here is a little Yuri On Ice. Victor is an International Super Model and Yuri is an up and coming Photographer. Let me know what you think. Not sure I’ll keep writing for this, but, it was fun to do even this much.

"Not so loud Phichit! My head is pounding! What...what happened last night?" Yuri blinked rapidly, trying to wake up properly. He had drunk too much, now, he was paying the price. "I asked you not to let me go overboard! Where were you?" he complained.

"It's not my fault you were pinning after Victor Nikiforov and trying to drown your sorrows at the bottom of a bottle! I tried to keep you from drinking, you just pushed me away and kept going. Here, drink this."

"Ugh, what is that?" Yuri wrinkled his nose and pushed the glass away from him, feeling as if he was going to hurl. He jumped out of bed and ran towards the bathroom and hugged the toilet bowl as his empty stomach heaved. Only the yellow bile of his stomach made an appearance and his throat burned from the acid. "Oh god, just let me die!" Yuri breathed, his forehead against the cool porcelain.

Phichit knelt beside him and stroked his naked back.

"Tell me I didn't embarrass myself in front of him Phichit!"

"Well..."

"Oh no! What did I do?" Yuri lifted his big brown eyes, already drowning in tears of regret.

"I'm sorry Yuri, but, I left early, your sister said she would take care of you. I assume she's the one that got you home."

"So...you don't know? Maybe, maybe nothing happened...I can hope right?"

Phichit simply nodded, letting his friend bathe in denial and hope. He knew how much Yuri admired Victor, he was the reason Yuri had become a photographer. He still had dreams of one day photographing the international super model, although, his aspiration had been steadily dwindling the more and more famous Victor had become.

Yuri had hoped the agency party would be his one shot to talk to Victor. But, he'd been so nervous, he'd taken a shot of something to settle himself down. When that had not been enough, he’d kept going.

He sat back against Phichit, who held his best friend close, empathizing with his pain and regret.

"My one and only shot, and I blew it!" Yuri cried.

"You don't know that. He's part of your agency now. I'm sure you'll see him around a lot. Maybe even take his pictures."

Yuri shook his head. "I'm not good enough to photograph him, the agency would never choose me for that!"

"Well, then, you'll just have to work harder, get better, show them how good you are!"

Yuri's shoulders sagged and Phichit knew he was being too hard on himself, yet again. Yuri was extremely talented, but he lacked confidence and no matter how many times he was complimented, he always assumed the other person was just being nice.

The doorbell rang and they both sat up straight. It wasn't exactly early, but, Yuri had made sure he had no appointments today.

"I better get that, are you going to be ok?"

"Sure sure, go on, but, I don't want to see anybody today!"

Phichit stood and made his way to the door. The doorbell went off again just as he placed his hand on the door handle.

He opened it, his eyes widened, then he closed it again, pressing his back against the door.

"Hello?" Came the heavily accented voice. "Hello!" he sang out with a laugh as he knocked on the door gently.

Phichit swallowed, he'd just shut the door on Victor Nikiforov's face. He got a hold of himself, took a deep breath, and opened the door again.

"Victor! I'm so sorry about that, the door is very...uh...springy!"

"Oh, that's alright, ooohhh, this apartment is so...quaint." Victor stepped inside, pushing past Phichit. He took his shoes off and placed them neatly beside Yuri's and Phichit's on the mat. He breezed into the living room, oohing and ahhing over every knick knack. Phichit raced to Yuri's bedroom door and closed it hurriedly, Yuri would die of embarrassment if he knew Victor had seen his wall of worship.

"What, what are you doing here Victor?" he asked.

"Yuri invited me. Where is he by the way? He was very insistent last night. He gave me his card and said he wanted to take some photos of me." Victor’s long fingers raced through his platinum hair, waiting patiently.

"Oh, I was unaware of that, I'll...just...go...get him...why don't you take a seat."

Victor plopped down on Yuri's sofa and pulled his feet up under him. He looked at ease and comfortable. Phichit backed away from the man, towards the bathroom. He quickly entered it and pulled Yuri up from the floor where he had decided to lie down.

"Yuri! Get up! You have to get up! Come on!"

"No! Go away! Let me lie here and die!" Yuri mumbled.

Phichit turned the shower on and tried to get Yuri up again.

"Leave, me, alone!" Yuri pushed Phichit away.

"Victor is sitting on your living room couch right now so get UP!"

Yuri bolted up, "What? right now? Are you joking? Because that isn't funny!"

"I'm not joking, look for yourself."

Yuri crawled to the door and opened it just a crack, it was an odd angle, but he could just make out a silver head peeking over his sofa. He slammed the door shut and began to hyperventilate.

"Wh...what's he doing here?!"

"Take a deep breath. He said you invited him."

"I did?" Yuri's eyes were wide and frightened. "I...I can't let him see me like this! What...what do I do?" he clung to Phichit's shirt front desperately.

"Take a shower! I'll get you some clean clothes and keep him busy until you're ready to come out.

"What if I can't? Phichit! I don't think I can go out there!"

Phichit slapped Yuri across the face, stunning his friend. He placed his hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "You can do this! Now, get...in... that...shower!" Yuri nodded.

"Ok, I can do this, right." Phichit let go of him and walked back through the door. He skirted around the living room and into Yuri's bedroom. He grabbed some clothes then took them back into the bathroom. Yuri was already in the shower, at least that was good.

He went back to Victor, who was nowhere to be seen.

"Victor?"

"Hello!" Victor popped out of Yuri's small photo studio, where he kept all of his equipment and paraphernalia. He grabbed Phichit and pulled him in. "Is this Yuri's family?" he asked, stepping in front of a photo of Yuri and his family in front of their onsen. Yuri hated that photo, which was why he usually kept a scarf covering it. He was younger and pudgier in it, but, he'd promised his mother he would put it up in his apartment. He could have left it off, but, he didn't want to lie to his mother.

"Uh, well, yes, but, let's put this back on it."

"Oh, why?" Victor sounded so disappointed. "He looks so adorable! Look at those fat rolls." he squeezed his hands as if he was groping Yuri's flab. Phichit threw the scarf over the picture, Yuri was going to be mortified.

"Let's just not mention that to Yuri ok? He's a little sensitive about his teenage years."

"Why?"

"Just, please ok?"

"Will it hurt him?"

"Maybe."

"Then I won't say anything. I would hate to hurt Yuri. Ah, his big brown eyes should stay happy and bright." Victor clasped his hands together and placed them against his cheek, fluttering his eyelashes.

"OhhKayy..."

"Where is Yuri?" Victor asked, leaning into Phichit.

"He's in the shower, he'll be here soon, I promise. Why don't we go back into the living room?

"Alright." Victor walked gracefully back towards the sofa. It was evident that he had taken dance classes.

Phichit made tea and sat with Victor, who was surprisingly down to earth and witty. But he could tell he was getting worried about the lack of appearance from Yuri.

"Why don't I go check on him." Phichit stood and headed towards the bathroom. The door was locked. He knocked and hissed through the thick wood. "Yuri! Get out here!"

"No!"

"What!? Get your butt out here! Right now!"

"NO!" his voice sounded strained.

Phichit tried to yank on the door, but it was too sturdy.

"Yuri, listen to me, I know you're scared, but, he's nice. Really, he is, he isn't full of himself, or snotty, he's genuine and sweet. Now, please, open up, or...or...or I'm letting him into your bedroom!"

The door flew open so fast Phichit almost pitched forward on top of a very flustered Yuri.

"You wouldn't!" his eyes were large and terrified.

"Try me." he put his hands on his hips and waited. Yuri bit his lower lip and walked around his friend and assistant. Phichit heaved a sigh of relief. He would never do that to Yuri, but, he was glad it had worked.

"Vv...Victor..." Yuri stepped into his living room and Victor jumped up, setting the cup in his hand down on the coffee table.

"Yuri!" he ran to the younger man and threw his arms around him, as if they had known each other for years.

"Oh, uh...it...it's nice to see you too."

"I thought you might have forgotten about inviting me. I was so excited to come by. Yakov didn't want me to come, but I just had to! Your photographs are so beautiful. You can capture your subject's souls. And I want to be your subject. I want to present myself to you in any way you want." Victor dragged Yuri towards his studio. Yuri was speechless.

“Ok then, I’ll just let myself out. Call me if you need anything Yuri! Which I’m sure you won’t! Have fun you two!” Phichit threw over his shoulder as he slipped into his shoes. “But not too much fun.” He whispered to himself with a laugh.

“Where do you want me? Here? Over there? Oh, wait, let me get ready!” Victor let go of Yuri’s hand. He took his scarf off and lay it over a chair. He then pulled his shirt over his head, his hair fluttering against his neck. He folded it and placed it on the chair as well. Yuri cocked his head, wondering what the man was doing. Had he brought clothes to change into?

He unbuttoned his pants and shimmied out of them. Yuri’s eyes widened as he searched the area for a nonexistent bag that might hold an outfit. When Victor removed the last remnant of his clothing, his underwear, Yuri stopped breathing.

Victor stood in front of Yuri, in all his glory, arms outstretched. “Well?” he asked with a grin.

“Whhaa…whaaa…what are you…you…yyy…doing?” Yuri stuttered.

“Don’t you remember? I asked you if you would take some tasteful nudes of me. You agreed. Yuri…are you listening to me?” Victor narrowed his eyes.

His lips are so shiny, thought Yuri, he couldn’t make his eyes focus on anything else as the taller man stepped towards him. Victor tilted Yuri’s head up and gazed into his large brown eyes. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else with my body. Shall we get started?”

Yuri gulped, and nodded.

[sleepyams]

Don’t play card games with Yuuri Katsuki

otayuri | E-rated word count: 3155

it’s my best friend’s @bekasstar birthday, and she requested otayuri smut + maid dresses so! here you have it! i hope your day is super amazing, bb <3

Dating Yuri means that everything becomes a competition. Even before Otabek could call Yuri a friend, he knew the young Russian was competitive and ready to do anything to win. It was part of Yuri’s nature, a slightly adorable quirk Otabek found himself growing fond of throughout the years. What he didn’t know, however, is that Yuuri Katsuki could somehow beat Yuri in competitiveness.

That’s what Otabek finds out after a tough practice in Hasetsu Ice Castle, followed by a relaxing soak in the Katsuki family’s hot springs. The competitive season has just ended, and a joint practice with the newlyweds in a city Yuri often talks about with a happy smile is exactly what Otabek needed. The season wasn’t his best one, and he’s happy to let go of it like this, unwinding while having fun with friends. They have all changed into the bathhouse’s soft yukatas, sharing a bottle of traditional Japanese alcohol (that doesn’t actually taste that great to Otabek), when Yuuri suggests they should play a game. “Sounds lame,” Yuri comments, not bothering to raise his eyes from the screen of his phone. He leans against Otabek’s side to show him a picture of two cats napping together, and then proceeds to retweet it. “Me and Otabek versus Viktor and you. Loser gets a punishment,” Yuuri says over the rim of his cup, and that manages to catch Yuri’s attention. “And what exactly would the punishment be?” he asks, narrowing his eyes. He has already lowered his phone, and Otabek knows there’s no turning back. “Play and see. If you’re brave enough, of course,” Yuuri smirks. Viktor, who’s sitting next to him, is wearing a worried expression, which tells Otabek even he doesn’t know what kind of punishment his husband is talking about. It only seems to excite Yuuri more, and he quirks an eyebrow to the other three. “Well?” “Bring it on, Katsudon,” Yuri says, rolling up his sleeves and tying his hair up. Otabek doesn’t even try to tell him to give it a second thought, because he knows that when Yuri decides on something, nothing can change his mind - especially when it’s something he can win in. The game ends up being a card game, where one person of the team tries to explain the word written in the card to his teammate, who tries to guess the word. The teams take turns on explaining, and each turn lasts one minute. They agree on playing ten rounds, and after the first round they make an additional language rule. (Otabek knows Yuri has a habit of changing to Russian when put under pressure, but when Viktor starts to spit out rapid Russian, Yuuri pauses the game and creates the extra rule. “It’s not fair,” is Yuuri’s argument, and Team Russia has to agree.) Otabek himself has never been great in verbal tasks, but eventually his composed nature mixed with Yuuri’s surprisingly creative way of explaining his selection of words helps them to win (they all should have known Yuuri is great in the game - he was the one suggesting it, after all). Yuri and Viktor’s teamwork has been getting better and better, but neither of them really have the calm temper the game requires. After declaring the game as a shitty one, Yuri crosses his arms and huffs. “Fine. What’s the punishment?” A good thing in his competitiveness is that he’s ready to face the consequences no matter the results. It’s not easy for Yuri, and it’s taken some time from him to learn how to accept losing, but he’s improved a lot in a short time (and secretly that makes Otabek proud). Yuuri happily downs the remains of his drink, jumps up and leads Viktor and Yuri out of the room with a grin on his face. ”This way!” He’s wearing the same grin when he comes back and sits next to Otabek. ”You can thank me later,” he says, and Otabek isn’t sure should he be excited or scared. A brief, unusual silence falls in the room, until it’s broken by a sound Otabek can’t exactly identify: he definitely hears a Russian curse word, mixed with a mortified scream and some laughter. “Yuuri, darling, where did you get these?” Yuuri, who’s in the middle of filling his glass, laughs. “They held a fundraising event here some time ago. Yuuko forgot them here.” Otabek is just about to ask what exactly is them, when his question is answered by Viktor. The older Russian comes to the room wearing a black and white maid costume, similar to those Otabek saw some girls wearing when they visited Tokyo the other day: the girls were handing out flyers for a theme café, and even though Otabek didn’t understand a word printed on the colorful leaflet, the pictures of different sweets and drinks looked extremely cute. “Yuuri, you have to take a picture of me!” Viktor exclaims, handing his phone to his husband. “Don’t I look cute?” “Yeah, you better put that pic on Instagram so everyone will lose their shit and those garbage online magazines can make headlines like ‘Viktor Nikiforov, the living legend, has finally lost all his marbles’, or something.” Otabek snaps his head to the doorway when he hears Yuri’s voice. He’s leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed and annoyance taking over his features.

To Otabek’s delight, Yuri is wearing a similar dress to the one on Viktor: it’s black and white with a tiny apron, lots of frills and small puff sleeves. He has finished the outfit with black thigh high socks, something Viktor is missing (probably because his feet are bigger than Yuuko’s, or whoever happened to be the one wearing the dress in the fundraising event). The skirt climbs a bit too high - thanks to the growth spurt Yuri had about a year ago - revealing a hint of pale thighs the socks can’t reach to cover. “Marriage does wonders to a man,” Viktor says, pulling Yuuri on his feet. He opens the sliding door to the backyard garden and slips his feet into slippers, throwing Yuri a wink over his shoulder. “You’ll see some day.” Yuri rolls his eyes, but there’s a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah, old man.” Viktor and Yuuri disappear outside to have a quick photoshoot, their excited whoops and giggles echoing in the warm summer night. Yuri sighs and sits down next to Otabek, reaching for his half-empty glass. “This is stupid.” “I guess.” “This thing doesn’t even fit!” Yuri huffs and empties his glass, a delicate pink blooming on his cheeks. Otabek assumes it’s from embarrassment - neither of them has actually had that much to drink. “You look cute.” “You think so?” Yuri asks and turns to look at Otabek. Long strands of golden hair has fallen out of his messy ponytail, perfectly framing his strikingly green eyes. Otabek can’t help his gaze wandering from his boyfriend’s face to his tiny waist hugged by the apron’s huge ribbon, the skirt riding even further up as the silence between them stretches out and he leans closer. “Y-yeah,” Otabek stammers, and clears his throat. Something flashes in Yuri’s eyes, something wicked, but he just smiles and straightens his back. “You should’ve said you have a thing for dresses,” Yuri says, smoothening the skirt’s creases. “I don’t have a thing for them.” “Oh? You don’t? Then it must be this whole maid thing,” Yuri says, then dramatically covers his mouth with his hand. “Beka, you dirty, dirty man! That’s why you accepted that leaflet from those girls in Tokyo! Who would’ve thought-” “Yuri, stop,” Otabek laughs, shaking his head. “You’ve got it all wrong.” “Have I now?” Yuri wonders, tilting his head with a pout. However, the way he looks at Otabek is intense, far from the innocence he tries to convey through his expression. “I don’t think I have, master.” “Yuri,” Otabek says, sternly. He knows Yuri hears the slight waver in his voice, and he mentally curses when one corner of the Russian’s mouth quirks up. “Hm? What can I do for you?” Yuri asks, shifting slightly so he can look directly into Otabek’s eyes. He puts a hand high on Otabek’s thigh to support himself as he leans closer, burying his fingertips into the older man’s skin when he takes a worried glance over his shoulder. “Viktor and Yuuri will come back any second now-” “Oh, are you jealous they might take me from you?” “That’s not-” “Don’t worry, master. Viktor and Katsudon are definitely busy with each other,” Yuri whispers, his lips gracing the shell of Otabek’s ear. It sends a shiver down Otabek’s back, and Yuri doesn’t miss that: he chuckles lowly and places a haste kiss right under the other man’s ear. “But if you want, we can go somewhere a bit more private. There you could have me all for yourself. How does that sound, master?” Otabek can’t help his breath hitching when Yuri brushes his lips over the corner of his mouth. Yuri teases him, knowing exactly what to do and say to drive him absolutely crazy. Otabek thinks it’s unfair that Yuri can read him so well, but at the same time he’s way too aroused by the way his boyfriend acts and speaks to actually care. “That-” Otabek swallows thickly, clears his throat and runs his fingertips up on Yuri’s arm. “That sounds amazing, angel.” A deep pink blush crawls on Yuri’s face at the nickname, and Otabek knows he desperately wants to tell Otabek to quit calling him that (not because he hates it, but because it makes him absolutely weak). Yuri keeps his act of innocence together somehow, and both of them manage to get on their feet, Yuri taking Otabek’s hand and leading him to the guest room set up for them. Otabek shuts the door behind them just to get pushed against it, Yuri’s hot mouth leaving kisses on his jaw and neck. Otabek would call him eager - tease him about it, even - if he wasn’t feeling the same urgency: they only have a limited amount of time before Viktor and Yuuri have had enough of each other outside and notice their sudden disappearance. Yuri runs his fingers through Otabek’s hair when he finally kisses him, melting against his lips with a small sigh. Otabek finds the ribbon resting on the small of Yuri’s back, but when he tries to undo it, Yuri pries his hands away and takes a step back. “You like the dress, don’t you?” “I- yeah, but-” “Then hands off,” Yuri commands, his tone making it clear Otabek shouldn’t even think about arguing. His lips find Otabek’s neck again (he’s careful not to leave any marks - they still have a couple of days in Hasetsu left, and neither of them is ready to have an uncomfortable conversation with Viktor and Yuuri), and the teasing graze of teeth distract Otabek enough for him to barely even register Yuri loosening the belt of his yukata and sliding the piece of clothing down his shoulders. Otabek is helpless under the open-mouthed kisses Yuri starts peppering on his chest: Otabek has to close his eyes and remind himself to keep quiet as Yuri gives a playful bite to his collarbone and swirls his tongue around his nipples, sucking and licking his way down. He drops on his knees on the floor and blatantly palms the bulge in Otabek’s underwear, the thumb of his other hand drawing lazy circles on his hipbone. Otabek knows looking down at Yuri is going to be the death of him, but he can’t resist. Yuri has tucked strands of hair behind his ears, and his pupils look blown as he takes Otabek’s cock out of his underwear and gives it a couple of slow pumps, his hold loose on purpose. He looks up, locking eyes with Otabek, before wrapping his red lips around the head of the erection. Otabek has to bury his hands into Yuri’s hair, the content hum the blond gives around his dick igniting all the sparks inside him into a huge fire. He groans, the way his cock slides easily on Yuri’s tongue deeper and deeper into his mouth after every bob of his head making him insane. The worst part is how Yuri’s emerald eyes don’t look away, not even when small tears gather in the corners of them when he fights against his gag reflex. Yuri makes sure to take it as slow as his usually quick nature lets him, tracing veins with his tongue and brushing over the tip with his thumb between sucks. When Otabek tries to rock his hips to get his cock bump against the back of Yuri’s throat, he leans away and kisses the already leaking head. “Like what you see, hm? Do you, master?” “Fuck, Yuri, I swear you’re trying to kill me.” “That’s not true,” Yuri says and pouts. He stands up and presses himself against Otabek’s bare chest, their lips barely an inch apart. “We haven’t even had any fun yet.” Yuri kisses him, deep and surprisingly calm, gently nudging him towards the bed. They’re both too busy to actually guide the other through the room, but eventually the back of Otabek’s knees knock against the edge of the bed and Yuri pushes him down on it. Otabek watches as the blond strips out of his own underwear, but to Otabek’s huge disappointment the frilly dress is long enough to reveal nothing. Yuri seems to read Otabek’s mind, because he’s smiling victoriously as he climbs on top of him and presses their mouths together. “I thought you liked the dress.” “Now you’re just teasing me.” “I’ve been teasing you this whole time,” Yuri says, nipping at Otabek’s bottom lip. Otabek rolls his eyes and Yuri laughs, reaching for their small bag of toiletries sitting on the bedside table. “But I’m getting impatient.” “You’ve been impatient this whole time.” “Out of the two of us,” Yuri says and gives Otabek the small bottle of lube he fished out of the bag. “I think I’m not the impatient one. At least this time.” Otabek lets out a breathy laugh and opens the bottle, pouring a generous amount on his palm. “Yeah, you might be right.” Yuri is still smiling when Otabek kisses him, gasping loudly when the older man slips a hand under his dress, one finger circling his hole. Otabek loves the way Yuri shivers and moans into his mouth as he pushes the first finger in, shifting on top of him so their hard-ons slide against each other. Otabek doesn’t want to be rough, and he simply kisses Yuri silent every time he tells him to hurry up or stop wasting time. He enjoys the whines of pleasure and anticipation Yuri lets out when a second finger finds its way inside him, stretching him open and trying to find the spot that makes him see stars. “Beka, please,” Yuri begs, rolling his hips to get Otabek’s fingers deeper. A part of Otabek doesn’t want to give Yuri what he asks for because of all the embarrassment he made Otabek go through earlier (he still refuses he has a thing for dresses, maid dresses in particular - he just has a thing for Yuri, and Yuri happens to look very cute in that dress). When Yuri calls his name again, Otabek pulls his fingers out, making Yuri whine. “Just don’t complain you’re in pain tomorrow.” “I would never.” “We both know you would,” Otabek says as he gives the bottle of lube to Yuri, pressing a quick kiss on his lips. “But that’s exactly why I love you, angel.” Yuri huffs, but Otabek’s doesn’t miss the bright red blush dyeing the tips of his ears. He takes some lube and spreads it all over Otabek’s cock, his hold firmer now. Otabek wants to thrust into his fist but he fights against the urge, telling himself he’s going to get something better if he waits just a little bit longer. The blond makes a huge show out of smoothing out some creases on the dress and tightening the ribbon on the back. When he finally lowers himself on Otabek’s dick, the frills tickle Otabek’s stomach, the dress hiding where they’re connected. Somehow it only arouses Otabek more. “Do you like me like this, master?” Yuri asks, his tone absolutely filthy. His breathing is heavy and every time Otabek snaps his hips up and manages to hit the sensitive bundle of nerves inside Yuri he curses, but considering the circumstances he does a great job at not breaking the character he created for himself before they came to the bedroom. “I like the dress,” Otabek admits, toying with the hem that bounces up and down as Yuri rides him. “I’m - ah, fuck - pretty in it, aren’t I?” “Yeah, way more beautiful than Viktor at least.” “Don’t you fucking dare to talk about Viktor right now,” Yuri hisses, moaning right after. His body is already trembling in lust and exhaustion, and Otabek apologizes by kissing him. Yuri licks needily into his mouth to muffle their whimpers, whispering Otabek’s name over and over again as he comes closer to his release. Otabek keeps thrusting into Yuri through his orgasm, reaching his own somewhere in the middle of it all. In the back of his mind he knows they’re being way too loud and the house around them is being way too silent to hide anything. Otabek makes a mental note to get Yuri up early the next morning so they can cook breakfast for everyone else as a simple apology. Yuri collapses against his chest and whines, burying his head between the junction of Otabek’s neck and shoulder. “I really hope Yuuko doesn’t want this dress back.” “I hope so too.” “That’s not what I meant,” Yuri chuckles, pressing a slow kiss on Otabek’s neck. “I meant it’s dirty.” “Just throw it in the washing machine at home.” “Beka, I’m not taking this dress home with me.” “Why not? You looked cute in it,” Otabek says, his honest expression making Yuri groan. He pulls the dress over his head and throws it on the floor, settling next to Otabek on the bed. They both know they need to get up soon to clean up, but enjoying the warmth of the afterglow is too good to ignore. Otabek frees Yuri’s hair from the ponytail and kisses the top of his head, letting the blond intertwine their fingers. The house remains quiet around them, and Yuri needs to poke Otabek between his ribs so he doesn’t fall asleep. “You know,” Otabek says after they’ve made a quick trip to the bathroom and came back to the bed, the maid dress hidden in the bottom of Otabek’s suitcase. “Yuuri said I could thank him later. I probably should.” “You both are disgusting.”

[seventhstar]

fic preview: project runway au

me: i’m not writing a project runway au @phoenixrei: hey nuri come over and watch project runway with me  me: fine i’m writing it 

featuring: designer!yuuri, celebrity client!viktor, and tim gunn!georgi.

“For this challenge, you’ll be designing a figure skating costume for one of these incredible figure skaters. Remember, not only do you have to design something that fits the skater’s music and theme, but you have to make sure you don’t lose your own unique point of view.” Anya snapped her fingers, and a staffer tossed her the dreaded buttonbag. “And now, you know what’s coming! Time for each of you to be assigned a skater.”

Yuuri grips his knees and starts praying as fervently as he can on three hours of sleep, two cups of bad coffee, and the dazzling aftereffects of having gotten to see Viktor skate in person.

Beside him, Yurio is scowling, but that’s par for the course with him. He’s able with both men and women’s wear, and he’s got experience designing costumes, so he’ll probably be fine. On his other side, Sara is mouthing ‘please give me a women’ under her breath. Yuuri wonders why no one ever practices menswear before auditioning for this show; haven’t they seen past seasons? There’s always a menswear challenge.

On Yurio’s other side, at the end of the row, is Isabella, who looks composed as usual. Again, she’s designed for rock stars, so maybe she’s confident, too, but even if she wasn’t she’d never show it. Yuuri’s seen Isabella cry exactly once, when her fiance called and proposed to her midseason, and he’s pretty sure she’s going to win the popularity polls at the end of the show because of it.

Oh, god. Anya’s hand is going into the bag. Yuuri tries to focus on what Georgi would say: Rule over it, Yuuri. Now is your time to shine. You must become a beautiful prince of figure skating costumes and whirl away the judges like you’re dancing on a ballroom floor.

There are four options. Yuuko, standing beside Anya, radiant in white and gold (last season’s short program, she’s gorgeous, the embroidery took Yuuri three weeks) is smiling hopefully at him. Yuuri knows he could dress Yuuko, wants her to be his client desperately. Beside Yuuko is Mila Babachieva, who Yuuri only knows by reputation. Her style is feminine but edgy; Yuuri thinks he could probably dress her, although he might fuck it up.

On Anya’s other side is Chris Giacometti, who is winking at the designers. Yuuri is frankly kind of scared of Chris, because what if he can’t do that ass justice? Sexy is not really Yuuri’s thing. He’s a potato.

And beside Chris, looking lovelier than ever under the hot stage lights, dressed in black and blue…it’s Viktor Nikiforov. He has manicured nails. Yuuri knows every detail of his face and body, having been the president of the Viktor Nikiforov fanclub for most of his life. He’d almost fainted when the limo had deposited them outside the rink with Georgi this morning and Viktor had been inside, dancing across the ice in a step sequence Yuuri had never seen, with grace and power like a god come down to earth.

“Sara, since you won the last challenge, you get to go first. You’ll be working with,” Anya produces a wihite button, “Mila.”

“Thank fuck,” Sara mumbles. She waves, and Mila waves back.

“Isabella, you’ll be working with…Yuuko.”

Yuuri’s stomach drops. Yuuko throws him a look, and then grins at Isabella.

“Yuri P., you’ll be working with…Chris.”

Chris blows Yurio a kiss. Yurio looks outraged. Yuuri is glad his workstation isn’t next to Yurio’s anymore.

“And last but not least, Yuuri K., you will be working with Viktor.”

“It will be a pleasure,” Viktor says. He is looking right at Yuuri with his actual eyes. Yuuri swallows, nods.

“You will have thirty minutes to confer with your clients, take measurements, and sketch, and then you’ll be shopping at Mood. You will have five hundred dollars and two days for this challenge, so we expect great things.”

Cheers go up at the mention of five hundred dollars to spend. Yuuri stares into his lap as the cameraman spread out, and Anya disappears, and the eight of them are left to mingle in the midst of the makeshift runway that’s been set up on the basketball court behind the ice rink in the sports complex.

He has to talk to Viktor. Yuuri sucks in a deep breath, fully prepared to get up and go apologize to Viktor for making him wait, but when he looks up Viktor is right there, standing over him and smiling.

“Hello,” Viktor says. He holds out a hand. “I’m Viktor. I look forward to working with you, although I have to warn you, I have been told I’m…difficult.”

“I love ‘difficult’,” Yuuri says, dazed by proximity.

Yuuri has a list of questions written on the first page of his sketchbook, to ask clients so that if he gets nervous he can just read them off and note the responses. He’s prepared for this. He should be fine.

VIktor starts telling him about his free skate’s theme, and he pulls out a pair of headphones so Yuuri can hear the music, and Yuuri does not ask him even a single one of those questions. Viktor waxes eloquently about love and pain, occasionally pausing to throw out tidbits like “Lace is alright as long as it’s not too bridal” or “Yellow is a hard no” or “No winter colors within half a meter of my face”.

After thirty minutes Yuuri hasn’t sketched anything, and also he has no idea what Viktor actually wants his costume to look like.

“Designers, your time is up!”

“Oh, shit.”

VIktor beams at him. “I feel like you really understand me,” he says. “See you at the fitting!”

“Right,” Yuuri says, just barely keeping from hyperventilating, or dying. “Okay.”

“Don’t disappoint me!”

[yuriplisetsk]

Katsuki Yuuri thinks he has a pretty solid knowledge of what he shouldn’t do. Like, generally, in his life. He even has a list.

The list starts off with “Don’t get drunk the night before an Ice Show” which, really, is no wonder, and an apparently simple task.

It continues, a little redundantly “Don’t get drunk the night before an Ice Show with Viktor,” the last bit underlined.

Yuuri squints at it, his distaste at repetitions coming out full force, as it stubbornly goes on “Don’t get drunk the night before an Ice Show with Viktor and start a stripping game.” Oh.

He starts to wonder. He isn’t the one that compiled this list, is he?

He scratches his nose, blinking up at the sheet of paper he found his cheek smushed on.

He can’t actually see it that well, because his glasses are missing. As are the memories of last night.

Completely wiped out. Zilch. Nada.

He groans.

“Viktor,” he calls, weakly, and the headache thumping at his temples screams in protest. No reply.

Oh, well.

He thinks that the list isn’t actually that interesting of a read, and that he could use a nap, but- a door bangs in the vicinity of his ear, making his heart and body somersault in the air.

He’d curse, but there’s no time for it, because someone is screaming.

“Katsudon, where the hell did you put that old man?” as the words get shape into his mushy feeling brain, so does a known frown, followed by blonde hair and a blink of recognition, synapses working restlessly even as he feels they should desert him. Yurio, he thinks, and makes a questioning noise.

“Get up” the Russian Fairy snarls, “Viktor has disappeared.”

There’s no simpler way of saying it, Yuuri at this literally springs up, hangover and instinct to puke his eyes out be damned. “What?” the panic’s already clogging up his throat. Disappeared?

Yuri is gazing at him now, managing to look incredibly entertained and yet terribly uninterested. “He’s probably hiding somewhere in shame,” he clicks his tongue, and Yuuri relaxes. If Yuri isn’t worried, it means they already called the hospital and the police to make sure Viktor hasn’t been found dead in a ditch or arrested- yet.

“Shame,” Yuuri parrots, quite dumbly, and Yurio arches his eyebrows. How can he be so- words deserts him, so he doesn’t continue the thought.

“Look, we just need to find him to get this farce of the Ice Show out of the way and go back home, okay?” Ah, too many words. Yuri tsks, and pushes something into his hands. “Just get decent and come downstairs, we’re waiting for you.”

Decent? Oh, and aren’t those his glasses? He puts them on gratefully, and he’s about to thank Yuri when an incredulous noise escapes the blonde’s mouth.

“Overcome Chihoko?” he says, making no sense at all.

“What,” Yuuri says, and isn’t this getting kind of redundant, too? Like the list, which is now lying sadly, slightly crumpled on the floor.

Yuri squints at him. “It’s written on your back, in chicken scratch russian” he explains, not as grouchy as he could be but not even kindly, then pauses. “Your grossly naked back. And are those on your head panties? How disgusting are you guys?”

Yuuri raises a hand to check. Yes, they’re definitely panties. He dislodges them and examines the sheer black piece of fabric. They’re super small, and unsurprisingly ring a bell. “Oh, these are Viktor’s,” he wonders why they’re on his head.

“I don’t care!” Yurio bellows, his scowl getting deeper “I don’t really care! Just put on something and come downstairs, I’m out” and with that, he’s gone.

Yuuri finally can scratch his butt.

But he also has no time to be embarrassed about what happened to make him  wake up naked, with russian nonsense written all over his back and panties over his head, muscles incredibly sore, because Viktor has apparently disappeared?

He still has time to feel nauseous, though. Staggering to the closet, he throws on a yukata. He desperately needs a shower, and who knows if that thing on his back could stain. Better safe than sorry.

As he gets out, he picks up the list from the floor. Who knows, maybe it could be useful.

Everything is too damn bright. The room, the sun, the smile with which Phichit greets him.

“I see you found the list!” he chirps, and Yuuri moans. Of course it would be him.

 Phichit just keeps grinning, and motions at him to sit.

He’s at the table, surrounded by what could be called a crowd: Minami, Seung-gil, Yurio, Otabek, Georgi and Chris, who all looks positively too alive for him to deal with. Nonetheless, he sits.

Yuri looks more belligerent than usual when he asks “What did you do to Viktor?”

“What did I do-” Yuuri winces, wishing he could remember. But he doesn’t, so he just shakes his head.

“I know you’ve kidnapped him or something, Katsuki shitty Yuuri” Yurio throws, glaring at him “he’s probably tied up under your bed or something because you got jealous of butt guy, here,” at that, he looks at Christophe, who seems both delighted and offended to be called a butt.

“Hey now,” Phichit calls, overjoyed “If he were under Yuuri’s bed, we’d have found him already, right? But what if he was in Yuuri’s closet, instead?”

Yuuri balks. “Phichit!” He doesn’t want to talk much more than he has too, but if Viktor was in his room, he’d have known, right? Also, what about him getting jealous of Chris? He shoots a suspicious glance in his direction, and Chris winks at him.

“There was some harmless flirting,” the Swiss purrs, “but Yuuri got all into Viktor’s face and asked him to compete in a stripping game” he looks terribly pleased about that.

“That’s why I was naked, I lost,” Yuuri whimpers into his hands, and feels Phichit patting him comfortingly on the shoulder. At least he has supportive friends.

Christophe’s eyes positively gleam when he objects “Actually,” and stretches his body on the table to get closer “You forgot all about the game and ripped off Viktor’s clothes yourself,” Yurio gags at this, but he keeps going, undeterred “Demanded to practice the Eros routine and then,” he giggles “proclaimed yourself as the queen and auto-coronated with Viktor’s underwear.”

Yuuri has never wanted the earth to swallow him whole as he wants it this precise moment. He’s about to excuse himself and go hide in the bathroom, but Minami chooses to scare off his pants by yelling “It wasn’t Yuuri!”

The teen seems to preen under all the pair of eyes now zeroed in on him. He theatrically ruffles through his pockets and comes up with a piece of paper, that he satisfiedly showcases to the whole table with a flourish. A flourish that gives Yuuri time to read only “Yuri on Tiger” scribbled onto it.

“This,” Minami explains proudly, “Is what Yuri Plisetski and Otabek Altin were working on yesterday night!” he lets a moment of suspense settle “They wanted to hijack the Viktor With Friends show! If someone has him hidden, they do!”

Yurio makes a noise. “Haa?” he asks, both outraged and unimpressed “And who the hell are you?”

Minami splutters, seemingly at loss, his insinuations already forgotten. “We were rivals in Juniors! Rivals!”

The expression on Yuri’s face is heartbreakingly honest in his disinterest. “Either way,” he continues, like he was never interrupted, “I’ve never seen that piece of paper before.” At this, he shoots a meaningful look to Otabek, who just nods seriously.

This is getting ridiculous. Yuuri just wants to find Viktor and sleep the rest of the day off. His hangover is not getting any better, especially after a loud clap resounds in his ear.

“Okay, false accusations will get us nowhere, we should just continue recapping last night’s events” Phichit says, the first thing that makes actual sense since this morning, in Yuuri’s opinion, but then goes to ruin it with “I have photos, anyway!”

“Oh, no,” he implores, as Phichit whips up his phone, taps for a moment making a terribly familiar loading screen appear.

“You posted them?!” his own voice is hurting his head, damn it.

“‘course I did,” the Thai scrolls expertly through his Instagram profile and pulls up a particular photo, and against his own better judgment, Yuuri scoots closer to see. And gapes.

“Is that-” he starts, but Phichit interrupts him. “Look at this! Seung, you actually have a thing for buff guys, don’t you?”

He flips the screen to face the others, showing a pretty unequivocable photo of Seung-gil Lee, kissing- Nishigori Takeshi. Is Yuuri dreaming, please tell him he is.

Seung-gil goes rigid, and pales, but doesn’t utter a single word. He’s luckier than Yuuri though, because Phichit yelps and takes back the control again, squinting at the photo. “Yuuri!” he calls, uselessly, “there you are! You and Viktor are- stretching.”

What does it say about the whole day he’s having that Yuuri isn’t even surprised? “Huh,” he mumbles “That’s why I’m sore all over.”

“Oh!” Georgi, who has been silent until now, piques up. “I remember now! You guys were fighting about something, I don’t- you were saying something that sounded like… Chin- hoko?”

Chris smirks. “Try that again.”

Georgi scrunches up his nose “Chinhoko.”

“Was it Chihoko, maybe?” Yuuri inquires, because he remembers something about that, even if it makes no sense.

“Yes! Chihoko! You were arguing about that! Viktor seemed really mad, despite denying it,” he nods sadly, looking into the distance “You really need to work on your communication.”

Phichits looks more heartbroken than Yuuri does. “You- got divorced?” he asks, in a small, devastated voice.

Yuuri is about to say that no, they aren’t even married yet to begin with, and he doubts they would divorce over something as small as a non existent word, but yet again someone beats him to the punch.

“Isn’t that what you have written on your back, Katsudon?” Yurio sneers.

He blinks. Yes, yes it is.

He nods, gratefully, because some things are starting to make sense, at least?

“And it’s in russian, so if me and Georgi are not the ones who wrote it… It must have been-”

“Viktor!” Emil Nekola shouts, barreling through the door, sweaty and out of breath.

This is some supernatural shit. “Yes?” Yuuri asks, a little put off. Emil must have really great hearing.

“No, Viktor! I found Viktor! You’ll never guess where he is!”

 Yuuri is sure that “Getting naked with you fiancé on top of Hasetsu Castle” is nowhere on that not-to-do list, because Phichit has no future vision, but it should be.

Either way, he can’t help but smile when a very naked, possibly still intoxicated Viktor crowds against him with the most beautiful smile and chirps “Am I shining, Yuuri?”

“Very brightly!” he replies, and his headache is gone.

 (read the rest on ao3 or here!)

[ravenhowl-in-shipland]

Curves - Yuriyuu

Title : Curves

Rating : K+

Pairing : Yuuri Katsuki x Yuri Plisetsky

Summary : After retiring, Yuuri began to gain weight again and is quite anxious about it ...

Note : A cute idea I had after rewatching the first episodes of the show.

Disclaimer : I don’t own anything!

Just like when he had stopped skating after his embarrassing defeat at the Final Grand Prix in Sochi, where he had met his future boyfriend for the first time, the anxious and pork cutlet lover Yuuri Katsuki had been gaining weight since he had retired from his professional career at the age of twenty-nine, and had a hard time to assume the new amount of flesh on his belly, even though it wasn't much since he could still wear the same clothes as before. However, it bothered him a lot more than six years ago, especially because his friends started giving him mean nicknames again, but mainly because of Yuri Plisetsky, his lover, who hadn't said anything about it until now, and the ravenette would think about this situation everytime he would have a bit of free time from his job research. Unlike the blond Russian, he couldn't go to the rink to enjoy a moment on the ice anymore and had to focus on what he should do now that he wasn't skating anymore, so he could pay the rent of their apartment in a town near Hasetsu, the other male accepting to move out of Russia to live with him as a real couple.

All of these new responsibilities and his enlarging silhouette were troubling him to the point of forgetting that he was actually cuddling with the second male, at least ten centimeters taller than him, sat between his legs, back resting against his torso, and that they were watching a drama series since the beginning of the afternoon, the one where the introvert guy is saved by the bad boy of the school who has a soft-hearted personality. To be honest, none of them were into this kind of show, finding the plot a bit too cliché, but they had nothing else on their shelves and they weren't even paying attention to it anyway, the two of them focused on something else.

A hand on his thigh brought the brown eyed man to reality and he almost jumped in surprise the moment those fingers tried to climb under his oversized dark blue sweater, not too sure if he wanted to let his lover discover that he had gained some pounds.

  “You are spacing out again stupid piggy …” He said in a mocking tone. “What are you thinking about? Hope it's not another man?”

  “Don't say such a ridiculous thing! I'm only thinking about the jobs I've applied to yesterday …”

  “That's it?! So boring! You should come and skate with me tomorrow instead of looking for this … That's unnecessary.” The blond answered in annoyance, kissing the ravenette's bare neck three times in a row.

  “You know it's important. The rent won't pay itself by magic and now that I've retired, there are no other options left … But it will work out somehow.”

  “You are worrying too much … No one would refuse something to that adorable chubby face of yours!”

As he said that, the cat lover pinched both of his cheeks and pulled onto it like a parent would do it to tease their child, earning an exasperated groan from the person he loved the most. Yuuri didn't hate it but it made him feel like he wasn't the adult in this relationship, already smaller in body compared to Yurio, and he growled while pushing the members away from his face. Knowing that he had pissed him off a little, the youngster attacked his belly, tickling him under the large cloth, and bit on his left earlobe to provoke the Japanese even more, licking the flesh eagerly. Just like a cat which would have been splashed with water out of nowhere, the owner of the apartment jerked away from his lover and asked him desperately to stop, a dark blush appearing on his figure, tears of fear forming behind his glasses, grabbing his wrists in an attempt to stop him from groping his flesh. A bit surprised by the reaction after a minute, judging at first that it would be his usual anxious way to respond to the teasing, the tiger removed his arms from around his abdomen and let his fingers go through his long disheveled hair, incomprehension crossing his features. In front of him, Yuuri had encircled his belly in a protective stance and his shoulders were shaking a little because of his silent cries, curled up on himself like an injured and scared animal.

Yurio felt like the bad guy in that situation.

And not knowing why it ended this way and not how it always ended, was bothering him a lot more than it should have.

  “Katsudon, what's the matter? Why are you crying? Did I do something wrong ?”

  “N-no! That's not … you didn't …” The eldest mumbled more in embarrassment than in sadness.

  “Hey! Are you okay?”

The blond took a hold of his shoulders, feeling him tense under his touch, and forced him to turn around so he could look at him in the eyes. Hopefully, the sofa was large enough to let him kneel before his beloved. Head hanging low to hide the shame written all over his face, the eldest of the two had wished to avoid the subject, for now, not feeling confident about it, but it seemed that he couldn't escape at the moment and if he didn't want to argue with his soulmate, like they do everytime they don't agree with each other, he would have to answer to any of his questions. Fortunately, the cat lover didn't pressure him and stared at the man to see what was wrong. With his right thumb, he wiped the tears from his pinky cheeks and pecked his lips in an attempt to reassure him.

  “You know that you can tell me whatever it is that's bothering you … Have I done something that you don't like?” He said in a desperate tone.

  “I told you … it's not you. I just … I'm …”

  “What Yuuri? You're what?”

  “I have gained weight since I stopped skating …” the ravenette murmured shyly while looking toward the kitchen on his right, the television still working behind him.

A long and awkward silence settled after his revelation, tightening his grip over the sweater as if he was afraid of being eaten, and no one had the courage to break it, handling the situation just like you would with a fragile vase. Before one of them had the chance to speak again, the drama reached the last second of the episode they had been watching and the credits came scrolling down the screen. It was Yurio who decided to take the lead, chewing on his bottom lips for awhile now and imprisoned the sides of the anxious man's figure between his palms, cutting all possibilities to flee from him. It felt strange to the Japanese skater. As if the boy he had known for almost five years, had become more mature and left his cocky self behind this time.

  “Is this all you had to say?”

  “Uh?”

  “Is that what bothered you? Really ?” The youngster stated in a questioning tone.

  “I … I though that you wouldn't stay with me if … I became that fat and useless person again. You … hated the way I was back then … Right?”

  “When did I say that? Why would you think that I would leave you for such a trivial reason? Do you have such a low opinion of me?” Yurio answered with a touch of anger and disappointment to hear him say such a horrible thing.

In a simple motion, Yuuri prevented him from moving away by grabbing the hem of his t-shirt, the youngster before him trying to separate from him, understanding that he had said it the wrong way, and tried to find the right words to explain himself and clear his mistake. Of course, he hadn't intended to say it like that. He loved him more than anything else and he was simply afraid of being rejected just because of his looks. However, the passionate glow inside his light green eyes was telling him otherwise. Like a dangerous predator, the blond assaulted his mouth and ate the pink flesh with love and lust, not giving the time to the other to respond to the exchange. He sucked on the lower part of it and bit down on it, almost drawing blood out of it. It was his own way to show that he would never stop loving him no matter what.

  “I know that I've always been mean to you when I was younger, but it was because I felt jealous of you and Viktor. You were so close even though you didn't know each other for that long … and I didn't know how to express my feelings except through harsh words …”

  “Yura … I'm sorry … I didn't want you to …”

The Russian held up a hand to stop him from saying anything more, not finished with his confessions and took a deep breath before carrying on, holding one of his lover's hand in his two, bringing it to his lips to caress it with them in an attempt to seek for forgiveness.

  “But I was young, immature and too proud to admit that I had feelings for you since our meeting at the banquet, and seeing you lose at the Final triggered something inside me … I needed to see you and talk to you but, while I wanted to comfort you and chase your anxiousness away, all that left my mouth were rude words and reproaches, and now, I regret it …”

  “I have no excuses aside from the fact that it's the way I communicate with the people I care about, and I'm really sorry if I said anything like that in the past. However, you have to know that I love you for who you are more than for what you look like and a few additional pounds won't change anything … Plus, you will be able to lose them in no time when you'll find a job …”

Yuri ended his speech with an awkward laugh, like a child who didn't know if his mother believed him, and kissed the soft knuckles to show that he had nothing more to add, a dark blush on his cheekbones. In front of him, the ravenette seemed relieved to hear him being so honest, the tears stopping from falling as joy replaced fear, and hugged the youngster happily, rubbing his face against his neck to catch the smell of almond that emanated from his blond locks. He was so glad. There was nothing that could make him happier than that. On his back, he felt two palms that started to stroke him up and down, doing small circles motions to soothe whatever would bother him in the future, and a kiss was pressed on his scalp, fingers playing with his disheveled hair. All this touching led to a heated exchange, their tongue fighting for supremacy, and soon, the desire grew stronger to the point that the Russian ran his hands along the flesh of his hips, massaging it with care and love, earning a surprised moan from his beloved Katsudon.

Still a bit unsure of his condition, the adult tried to escape from his greedy grip and mumbled incoherent things again, too overwhelmed by what was happening. Unfortunately for the Japanese, his lover wasn't letting go of his prey this time and would make sure to eat every last bit of his body, claiming him rightfully his by leaving some biting marks here and there. With all his might, Yurio pushed the eldest on the couch, straddling him with a sexy bucking of the hips, and pulled his sweater up to reveal his growing belly, sucking on the enlarging navel with a lustful glare.

  “I really love your curves, my little pork cutlet bowl.”

[emeraldwaves]

Title: Burning Eyes Day 3 OtaYuri Week : Memories/Future (I kind of did both?) Pairing: OtaYuri Rating: T Word Count:  3,892 AO3 Summary:  Otabek has always been captivated by Yuri Plisetsky’s eyes.

Full Fic Under Cut, thank you to @its-love-u-asshole for reading ahead of time for me.

14 years old

Yuri Plisetsky is the exact opposite of everything Otabek Altin is. He’s dainty, graceful, blond, and he’s damn good at ballet. It’s not fair, Otabek thinks, that one kid could be so good at everything.

Sweat trickles down his own brow, as he tries to hold the stance, his eyebrow twitching. His muscles are so tight — he’s not as flexible as some of the other boys. Really ballet warm ups have never been Otabek’s thing. His face quivers, and the teacher yells at him, telling him that’s not the face a dancer should wear, and Otabek is just about ready to slam his foot back to the ground and leave. He knows it’s a bad idea, and he doesn’t want to get on the Russian’s bad side. This training camp is a big deal, and he should feel honored, even if it is shameful to have been dropped down to the novice class.

He sucks in a large breath of air, keeping his foot in place, though his chest puffs out awkwardly, and his nostrils flare. This is definitely not the proper stance a dancer should have. But dammit, he’s not a dancer, he’s a skater, Otabek should’ve quit trying to make ballet work ages ago.

His gaze falls on Yuri Plisetsky from across the room. He’s so damn beautiful, and from what Otabek can tell, he hasn’t dropped his pose at all, not once since they started. His arms and legs move with such precision, yet he doesn’t look robotic. Each movement flows into the next, his spine bending backwards as he gracefully moves back. It’s impossible not to admire his technique, and Otabek can’t help the small amount of jealousy he feels inside as well. This blond is good enough to be in the junior class, so why the hell is he showing everyone up in novice?

His face is currently stoic, almost creepily serene, as just a few hours earlier the young boy had been yelling at the teacher about something, Otabek hadn’t been close enough to hear even though Yuri had been rather loud.

The teacher moves to Yuri and tilts his chin up a bit, adjusting where his gaze falls, and Otabek is almost insulted for him. The blond’s eyebrows twitch a few times, and Otabek can tell he’s annoyed. His green eyes tremble with rage, but Otabek notices it’s not just anger hidden in his emerald pools. No, there seems to be a passion and strong determination. He keeps his head adjusted, not moving from his new position.

“Altin! Eyes forward!” The teacher barks out, and Otabek pulls his head around, keeping his gaze towards the mirror at the front of the classroom. Gosh he looks awkward, he looks nothing like Yuri Plisetsky and some of the other Russian classmates.

Yuri Plisetsky is a fighter, that’s for sure. Otabek respects that, relates to it, though he can’t say he’s about to fight to be better at ballet. He wants to skate, he wants to skate his way, and while dance works for some like, Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek is not one of those people.

Otabek quits ballet upon returning home to Kazakhstan.

 18 years old

Otabek hears Yuri Plisetsky’s name in passing. Apparently he’s doing amazing in the junior divisions which Otabek is really not surprised to hear at all. Besides his raw talent, Yuri has an unmatched drive. Otabek saw it in his eyes that day in ballet, and he sees it again when he decides to sneak a peek at the junior division on T.V.

He should be focusing on the Senior division, Viktor Nikiforov, Christophe Giacometti, these are the sorts of people he will eventually have to face if he plans to make it to the Grand Prix Final. But he mentally argues Yuri Plisetsky is about to be old enough for the Senior division, so it’s highly possible he’ll have to face him too. Actually, if he’s anything like Otabek remembers, he will definitely have to skate against him.

Yuri’s got the eyes of a champion, and as he steps out onto the ice, Otabek feels jealousy bubble inside of him once again. The confidence Yuri exudes, even now at such a young age, is incredible. The energy in his pose is overwhelming, and Otabek can tell the blond has something to prove.

And prove it he does. Otabek can’t take his eyes off the screen, and he almost wishes he were there in person to witness it in real time, not through a screen. Yuri’s movements are perfect, absolutely stunning. He falls one time, but it doesn’t take away from anything. Otabek can see his eyebrow twitch, Yuri’s probably pissed at himself for making such a silly error. Otabek knows it won’t matter though, his performance is so on point, and his limbs move with grace, as though he’s a storm, winds whipping across the cold surface as he cuts across the ice. His chest heaving as he holds his final pose.

The imagine burns into Otabek’s memory, like a flame scorching his mind, a scar he won’t ever forget. Yuri Plisetsky isn’t a force to be reckoned with, Otabek can see it in his movements, and his eyes.

Yuri Plisetsky wins the gold for the Junior division of the Grand Prix Final.

 19 Years Old

“What’s with you, asshole?” Yuri spits in Otabek’s direction, and Otabek grunts, pulling his sunglasses over his eyes.

It’s the first time he’s actually seen Yuri since being in Barcelona, and he had been considering asking him to hang out, but in all this time, he forgot the most important thing about Yuri Plisetsky — he’s got the harshest mouth, and plenty of rage to back that up.

He wants to talk to Yuri, somehow, though he’s not quite sure how to do it. He doesn’t care to spend time with a large group of people, and girls are always following him around, which is something Otabek really doesn’t want to deal with it. Yuri doesn’t seem like he enjoys it much either, but there’s never been a good opening to try and drag him away, and after the way Yuri snapped at Otabek, he’s not sure Yuri would want to be saved by him anyway.

Otabek’s about to leave everything behind, setting up his motorcycle, when he sees Yuri peeking around a corner, clearly desperate to hide from the strange women with cat ears on their heads. Otabek isn’t sure what that’s all about, but he is sure this is the perfect moment to try and help Yuri out for once.

“Yuri, get on,” he says, handing him the other helmet. Yuri looks confused at first, but the moment he realizes Otabek is here to help, he joins him, and they ride off, ready to do some sightseeing.

Otabek confesses his jealousy, though the words are far more eloquent than that and none of his words are a lie. Otabek tells Yuri he has the eyes of a soldier, and how he’s always thought so. He thought so when he watched him practicing ballet, and when he watched him skate in the Junior division. Truthfully, he’s looking forward to watching him skate now. Of all the people in the competition, Otabek is scared most of Yuri.

Shit, he loves the way Yuri looks now too. His blond hair is sweeping across his face, a hint of a red on his cheeks, though Otabek can’t tell if it’s because he’s blushing or if the breeze is hitting his cheeks just right.

“Otabek, why did you talk to me? I’m a rival aren’t I?” Yuri asks, a puzzled look on his face. A rival indeed. Yuri’s not wrong. They are rivals; more than anything Otabek wants to win the championship for Kazakhstan. But if anyone else is going to win, he wants it to be Yuri.

After a handshake and some tea, it seems Yuri Plisetsky is his friend, and Otabek certainly isn’t complaining.

The day of the competition arrives, and though Otabek wants to defeat all the other skaters, he’s happy to have found a friend among them. Most of all, he’s pleased to finally have the chance to see Yuri skate in person. He’s been so curious to see it after all the times he’s seen him skate on T.V. Finally, he can see him skate in person.

Yuri takes to the ice in a huff, something to do with the Yuuri from Japan, and Otabek snorts. Yuri’s temper is oddly endearing — it shouldn’t be, but it makes Otabek chuckle to himself. In a moment, the blond switches, as though something snaps inside of him. One moment, he’s boiling with rage, like a volcano about to erupt, and the next his face is serene, calm and ready to perform a beautiful skating piece about love. It’s wonderful, and slightly hilarious.

His green eyes glimmer against the beautiful ice, his blond hair swirling around his face as his lithe arms sway around his body, his movements flowing across the ice. It seems surreal, as though Yuri is floating, with absolutely no gravity holding him down.

Immediately, Otabek can’t help but remember their younger days, watching Yuri in the class. Back then, Otabek had thought Yuri was perfect, and then here is now, one-upping himself once again.

Otabek can’t take his eyes off of Yuri, his facial expression soft and clear, emotion pouring from his skates and limbs and face.

It’s absolutely no surprise Yuri places first for the day.

The second day of the competition it seems Yuri and Otabek have created their own secret language, giving each other a thumbs-up to silently cheer one another on.

Yuri looks like the flame Otabek has always imagined him to be, wisps of pink trailing off of his skates. From the look on his face now, the way his green eyes tremble before the beginning of his music, Otabek can tell he’s worked hard on this piece too, maybe harder. Yuri told him he had spent hours upon hours studying with Lilia, so it’s no surprise he seems more than prepared. Yuri’s always been fantastic at ballet, so Otabek isn’t concerned for him.

Yuri’s breathing seems heavy at first, but the moment the music begins, Yuri’s gone, somewhere inside of his head he’s locked into his concentration. He’s intense, the eyes Otabek has come to adore so much burning brightly with his costume, as though they’ve changed colors. He seems angry, intense, and Otabek can swear Yuri yells out at one point. The routine is masterful, something only someone like Yuri could truly handle. Yuri’s chest heaves and he falls to his knees covering his face, though Otabek thinks he should stand proudly. It’s a routine Yuri should be proud of, honored to have performed. Hell, Otabek feels honored just to have witnessed it.

Otabek knows he’s lost by now. Yuri takes the gold in his first ever Senior Grand Prix.

They’ve only got one more night in Barcelona, the banquet to celebrate how hard they’ve all worked. Some people say everyone’s a winner, even though Otabek, (and everyone else) knows Yuri is the only one who gets the full glory of taking his gold medal home to Russia.

It certainly doesn’t stop everyone from celebrating. Chris is already beyond drunk, trying to convince Viktor and Yuuri to drink more, but the two seem far too fixated on each other to really notice anyone else. Phichit is filming anyone who moves. But Otabek isn’t really paying attention to all that.

Yuri’s being crowded by everyone congratulating him. He’s getting pats on the back, saying he’s so young, it’s so amazing he won. Otabek thinks it’s amazing, but he’s really not all that surprised by it. Yuri’s always been talented, always been above and beyond everyone else. Of course, he won. And though Otabek is once again feeling a bit jealous, he knows Yuri deserves it.

“Beka!” Yuri calls out, finally breaking free from the crowd surrounding him. “People wouldn’t stop crowding me,” he groans.

“You won. It’s to be expected,” Otabek says.

“Yeah but I wanna enjoy the banquet too!” he snaps, folding his arms.

“Well you can now, you’ve got plenty of time.” It hits Otabek then that they don’t have plenty of time left together. In the morning he’ll be flying back to Kazakhstan, and Yuri will be heading back to Russia. It almost seems unfair, after all these years, they’re finally friends, and now it’s about to be over. Otabek isn’t sure he’s ready to leave Yuri quite yet.

Yuuri’s a little drunk now, and he challenges Yuri to another dance off, repeating something that happened at the banquet a year ago. Yuri looks pissed, but the moment they all start dancing, Otabek can tell Yuri’s having a good time with Yuuri.

They’re moving, and Yuuri’s tie is around his head and he’s flailing about, grabbing Viktor to dance with him.

“Beka!” Yuri waves at him wildly, “be my partner!”

“Eh?” Otabek turns, seeing Yuri directly in front of him now. He blushes, seeing Yuri’s eyes so close.

“That idiot Katsudon got Viktor involved, so be my partner.” He doesn’t give Otabek a chance to answer, and he drags him out onto the dance floor. They’re all moving now, Chris is drunkenly hollering, and Phichit is still filming them, and for a moment Otabek loses himself.

He doesn’t care about the dance off, but he does care about Yuri twirling around in front of him. He spins him, and pulls him in close, their bodies rubbing together as they move about the floor. Of course, Yuuri dips Viktor and pulls him into a kiss, which makes Phichit dub them the winners of the dance off.

Otabek’s dark eyes meet Yuri’s and he wonders what it would be like to kiss Yuri. Inappropriate probably, but his stomach flip flops at the idea. The two pull away abruptly, both blushing.

“I…uh…had fun Beka,” Yuri mutters awkwardly, heading back to the hotel elevators.

“Me too,” he nods, not wanting to elaborate too much. The more he speaks on it, the harder it will be to say goodbye.

“You have my Instagram, and my phone number, and my Facebook, so you have no excuse not to keep in touch!” Yuri blurts out.

“I know,” Otabek replies, a small smile on his face.

“You better!” he growls, folding his arms.

“Don’t worry,” Otabek replies. “I will.” He awkwardly holds out his hand, giving Yuri’s a shake. They linger for a moment, as though they want to hug, but neither makes the proper move to close the space between them.

“I better see you here again next year, Beka.”

 23 years old

It takes Otabek 3 years to make the Grand Prix Final again, though it isn’t for lack of trying. Every year he was close, so close. One year he fell during his last program, costing him just enough points to bump him way beneath the qualifying spot. The next year, he came in 7th overall, missing the cut off for the top 6 in the Grand Prix Final.

Every year, he cursed himself for not being strong enough to make it, and he trained harder, and longer, desperate to make it the next year. He promises he won’t quit until he competes against Yuri once more, and gets to witness his beautiful eyes.

Yuri Plisetsky makes it every year Otabek doesn’t, placing 2nd the first year, and 1st again the next. Otabek isn’t at all surprised. Yuri is a beast on the ice, a beast no one can tame. It hurts to, but Otabek watches him every year. He watches the way Yuri moves on the ice, and he knows Yuri deserves every medal he earns. Behind his passionate green eyes is diligence and hard work.

Every year, Otabek remembers Yuri’s words:

 “I better see you here again next year, Beka.”

And finally, after 3 years, he’s here again at the Grand Prix Final. (And Yuri was one of the first to know. After sending a text that read, ‘Are you in this year or not?’ Otabek replied with a simple thumbs up.)

Seeing Yuri walk in is strange. He’s older now, and it’s apparent. He’s taller, and his blond hair is a bit longer now. His arms and legs are more muscular, and his jawline has filled out. Otabek’s so busy staring at his mature friend, he doesn’t notice how close Yuri has gotten.

“Took you long enough, Beka,” Yuri smirks, and Otabek grins right back.

“I’ve been practicing,” he snorts, not wanting Yuri to get the best of him. The blond smiles wider, however, and immediately pulls Otabek into a hug.

“I missed you,” he whispers, and Otabek feels a shiver run down his spine, as though the cold from the ice has penetrated his skin already.

“Yeah…same,” he mutters, squeezing him tightly. When he pulls away, he sees a blush on Yuri’s face. His face is older, yes, but the blush is innocent, the same one he saw three years ago when they danced together.

It’s not as though they haven’t talked. They did keep in touch, mostly talking over various social media outlets and texting. Otabek did go to Russia for a few weeks for extra training, but both of them were so busy they were only able to get tea a few times during his stay. Seeing him now, here, ready to compete again, Otabek knows it’ll be different.

“Good luck,” Yuri smiles. “You’re going to need it!” he yells, looking rather pleased with himself. Otabek’s glad to see Yuri’s appearance is the only thing that’s different about his friend.

And it really is like nothing has changed between them. Otabek offers a thumbs up to Yuri before he’s about to start his short program, and Yuri does the same for him. Their costumes are different, and the music has changed. Their programs are harder, since they’ve both improved, but they are not different people. Otabek doesn’t need to ask Yuri to know they both want to win as much as the other. Otabek knows he’ll have to retire soon, even if he wants to bring a medal home to his country, even if he wants to skate with Yuri forever. Yuri’s eyes still burn with his passion, he has a podium to defend after all.

And defend it he does. After their free programs, it’s clear to Otabek Yuri will place once again. He beats his own damn record, and there’s a tiny part of Otabek that hates Yuri for being so damn talented. But oh does he adore him too, can’t take his eyes off of him.

Yuri places first, for the second year in a row, and this time Otabek comes in third, happy to at least take a Grand Prix medal home to Kazakhstan after all these years of training. He wishes it were gold, but he can’t fault himself for losing to someone like Yuri Plisetsky.

“Congratulations,” Otabek whispers to Yuri, hugging him as they step down off the podium. “It’s seems you’ve won another.”

“'Course! I’ll never give up this spot!” he laughs.

“I don’t doubt it,” Otabek sighs, lingering in their hug. He would’ve stayed that close to him forever if he could’ve.

“Uh, congrats to you too,” Yuri compliments. “Hell, I kind of think you deserved to be second,” Yuri grumbles, glaring at the young Korean boy who took second place.

“I’m happy to bring any medal home to my country,” Otabek smiles, patting Yuri’s shoulders. “No need to make such a face.” Though Otabek thinks Yuri is cute when he’s angry. Actually he enjoys all of Yuri’s faces, even when he looks like a disgruntled teenager.

The scene at the banquet is almost exactly the same as Otabek remembers it from three years ago. Drinking, lots of drinking, and Yuri’s being crowded by a large group of people. This time Otabek has to deal with a few people himself. Talking about his success is nice, but he’d much rather be dancing with Yuri on the dance floor again. But he wonders if anything like that will start, since there’s no drunken Yuuri Katsuki to kick things off.

And as nice as dancing sounds, Otabek would much rather whisk Yuri out onto the terrace, and talk to him alone, away from all these people. As though he’s psychic, from across the room, Yuri looks at Otabek desperately. Otabek is used to seeing Yuri’s green eyes look desperate but this is something completely different.

Stepping away from the crowd, Otabek makes his way towards the table and grabs two glasses of champagne. He stands by the crowd around Yuri, and holds up one of the glasses. “Ah Yuri, you gonna come drink this or not?” he asks, waving his hand.

“Yeah! Okay!” he yells loudly and steps away from the large group of people, following Otabek out onto the main patio.

It’s warm enough in Italy that a summer breeze blows around Yuri’s hair, and he tucks it back behind his ear. There isn’t a cloud in the sky, and his sparkling green eyes match the stars in the twinkling moonlight, as they reflect off the liquid in the champagne glass. His hand trembles, holding the small glass and Otabek notices Yuri bite on his lip.

“Come train in Russia with me!” he bursts out, turning to face Otabek.

“…Eh? What?” Otabek blinks, completely taken off guard. Train? In Russia? He’s not even sure if he will continue skating competitively after this year. “You want me to train in Russia?”

Yuri’s nose wrinkles up, and he leans up towards Otabek. “You better not be considering retiring! You have at least three more years of competing in you, and if you come to Russia we can train together!”

Otabek is stunned, and he can’t find the words to speak. Yuri wants to train with him? He’s so damn cute right now, looking all angry. His green eyes flare up with the determination Otabek has come to love. There’s no way he can say no to that. Of course Almaty is his home, but there’s a part of him that’s wanted to chase this for years. He wants to be with Yuri, and be friends, be rinkmates, be close to him.

“Look I know you love Kazakhstan, but you’d do awesome training with me, and then I wouldn’t have to miss you for three freaking years-”

Before Yuri can continue his speech, Otabek leans forward, and cups Yuri’s cheeks pulling their lips together. Yuri is as frozen as ice at first, his body seizing up a bit, but the moment he starts to kiss back, it’s like the Yuri Otabek has known all along. His lips press hard against Otabek’s and his arms wrap around his neck, keeping him close. Otabek nibbles on Yuri’s lower lip, their noses pulling in harsh breaths.

“I’ll do it,” Otabek whispers. “I’ll train with you.”

Yuri’s face is completely flushed, but as he takes a deep breath, he smiles, giving Otabek a thumbs up. “Good.”

Otabek returns the gesture. He’s not sure what the future holds, but if he’s with Yuri, he’s sure it’ll be an adventure, one Otabek is more than happy to embark on.

[charles195]

(Late) OtaYuri Week: Day 2 - Social Media/Celebrations

Word Count: 1.6k+

Rating: T+ 

Summary: In the off-season, bad habits arise for the skaters who can only pull themselves together when the world is watching them. 

A/N: Loose use of the prompt. I haven’t slept all night. It is currently almost 7 A.M. for me. Can be read as a continuation of Day 1 or as its own piece. 

Yuri heard a noise nearby, like some kind of thumping. He didn’t mind it until he noticed it and once he noticed it, he couldn’t ignore it. He hated becoming conscious of undeniable facts out of his control: his own breathing, blinking, the short shelf life of his body, the inevitability of death… That was what social media was for--to be a distraction from unresolvable tensions about the human condition. So, he checked Instagram since Otabek didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk to him after flying out just to see him. That was fine. Besides, he was curious about how many likes his most recent post was getting.

Any picture that featured Otabek in it seemed to be a hit with Yuri’s Angels, sure, but add in the skating world’s power couple “Victuuri”, and suddenly ten more people felt like following Yuri. Eight of them were also Otabek’s followers, even though he rarely posted. Yuri curiously tuned into Victor’s livestream from the kitchen. Yuuri and Victor were pretending like they were on a cook show while they prepared their famous dish and inspiration for Eros, the katsudon bowl. Yuri suspected that that was the only dish they actually knew how to prepare. He commented, stop fooling around, i’m hungry.

“Ten more minutes, Yurio!” Victor promised.

Yuri commented again, stop calling me that, i knew you before katsudon did.

“Ah, Yurio is jealous!” Victor whispered to Yuuri in the video.

I’M STILL WATCHING, YOU STUPID OLD MAN.

“That’s strange. When I met first met Yurio, I was the one who was jealous of how comfortable he was with you,” Yuuri mused. “He even slept in the same bed as you when you accidentally got him sick by sending him to the waterfall too many times! Oh, I think I still have pictures...”

Yuri checked Otabek’s expression for the millionth time that hour. It was stoic and unreadable, like usual, and that irritating thumping noise was still continuing. Yuuri’s anecdote about Yuri’s sick day in Japan was playing on the livestream on Yuri’s phone, definitely within Otabek’s hearing range, yet Otabek did not even acknowledge it. Yuri sighed loudly, loud enough to cue Otabek to ask him what was wrong, closed the livestream, and laid his head on the edge of the table.

He discovered the source of the thumping noise. Otabek was shaking his leg.

Yuri rose his head. “What’s wrong with you? You’re like an addict anxious about when his next dose will be.”

“SorryIneedfreshair,” Otabek mumbled hurriedly before he stepped out of the front door.

Yuri just let it happen. He wasn’t in the mood to argue with the only friend he had in the brief time they had together, not that the time was being put to any good use.

Victor and Yuuri emerged from the kitchen as soon as Otabek was gone. Yuuri immediately noticed the empty seat, where Otabek previously was. It wasn’t even pushed in--what savagery. “Did you two have a fight?” he asked. It was a natural assumption, given the angry looks both Otabek and Yuri had been wearing before, but it was hard to tell since they both had a bad case of resting bitch face.

“I wish,” Yuri admitted. “He’s a mystery.”

Yuuri locked hands with Victor. “Victor was a mystery to me, too, when he first came to coach me…”

Victor frowned and released Yuuri’s hand. “‘Was’? Do I not surprise you anymore?”

Yuuri laughed nervously. “N-N-No, th-that’s not what I mean…”

Yuri rolled his eyes--he was amazed that someone as impulsive Victor managed to sustain a relationship with someone with as much anxiety as Yuuri. “Victor is just stupid. Otabek is a real mystery. I know nothing about him. I have no idea what we have in common besides skating and a time we met that I don’t remember.”

Yuuri could almost relate, except for the fact that he knew every trivia fact there was to know about Victor Nikiforov from his favorite conditioner to his most common order at Starbucks before Victor even knew Yuuri existed. Yuri was right--the few social media accounts that Otabek did have revealed nothing about his personal life, other than he lived in Almaty and that he hated long escalators.

“Where is he?” Victor asked. “Bathroom?”

Yuri shrugged. “He said he needed fresh air. He has been shaking his leg a lot. I know I should’ve gone after him, but I don’t want him to snap at me.”

“He won’t be offended if you just show that you care,” Yuuri assured him.

“That won’t stop him from snapping. It’s a toxic masculinity thing.”

Victor nodded sympathetically. “I’d be mad if I was scared of my only friend snapping at me, too…”

Yuri immediately got up and went after Otabek. “Fuck you, I’m not scared! I’ll talk to him!” he declared.

Yuuri’s phone alarm rang. The katsudon was ready.

The only reasons Yuri could of for why someone would ask to get fresh air was because they were overwhelmed with anxiety or because they desperately needed a smoke break. It was rather biased, but Yuri assumed that Otabek was a smoker since he also wore leather jackets and rode motorcycles. Yuri opened the front door wide to find Otabek with a lighter in his hand and a cigarette in between his lips. “Oh.” He didn’t expect his prejudiced assumption to be correct. “Smoke doesn’t count as ‘fresh air’ unless it’s pollution, you know.”

Otabek ripped the cigarette away from him and grabbed the collar of Yuri’s shirt. “I work three jobs in the off-season and I’m still months behind my coaching fees.”

From inside the house, Makkachin barked and growled.

“Be quiet, dog!” Otabek yelled. “Not all of us can rely on wealthy men!”

It seemed that the dog had a good grasp of Russian. Makkachin understood that it was best if he returned to his owners’ side without protest. For once, Yuri was inwardly praising a dog for its intelligence.

Yuri pried Otabek’s fingers from his shirt and took a step back. “I wasn’t going to lecture you. I can’t control you.”

Otabek’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Yuri, I’m sorry… I’m… I’m sorry, I’m really sorry--”

Yuri shoved his hands in his pockets. “I heard you first time. Just go smoke, I don’t care.”

Otabek flicked his lighter on and off. “I’ve been trying to quit for you.”

“For me?” Yuri scoffed. It wasn’t that the thought didn’t flatter him. He just didn’t understand why he was worthy of such dedication, or at least the remnants of dedication that were hanging on by a thread. “I wouldn’t even delete my Facebook account for you.”

It took everything in Otabek’s body to not give into his nicotine craving or the sudden urge to light himself on fire. Both were strong. “I’m sorry, Yura. I always quit before competitive season starts, but in the off-season, there’s nothing to stop me from letting my lungs rot. Or at least, there was… I wanted to celebrate your presence in my life by finally quitting.”

“Quit, then,” Yuri told Otabek firmly, as if it was as simple as that. In Yuri’s naive mind, it was.

Otabek gave his cigarette to Yuri, along with the rest of the pack. Yuri looked at it in disgust before taking Otabek’s lighter and crushing that below his foot. The crunch was satisfying.

“There. Can’t make smoke without fire,” Yuri said smugly. He left Otabek on the front steps while he retreated back inside for warmth and to throw away the cigarettes.

The smell of katsudon entices Otabek into following.

“Do you drink, Otabek?” Yuuri asked after opening a bottle of sake.

Otabek could feel the judgement from Makkachin--those shiny eyes, that tongue hanging out, the wagging tail.... He couldn’t believe the dog had his own seat at the dining table--at the head of the table, too. He was, to Yuri’s satisfaction, definitely a cat person. “I try not to.”

Makkachin barked sharply at his response. Otabek slammed his hand on the table and stood up. “I said that I try!”

Yuri took the bottle of sake and poured himself a cup while everyone else was frozen in silence. Otabek ashamedly sat back down when he regained his composure.

“I take it the off-season is stressful for you?” Victor guessed. He has been in the skating world long enough to know what withdrawal looked like, whether it was from the adrenaline from a competition or steroids or a tasty bowl of katsudon.

Otabek nodded. “I don’t understand how you all afford competition season.”

“I’m the type of fame that comes with fortune,” Victor admitted bluntly.

Yuri crossed his arms. “The Angels,” he spat out.

Yuuri enviously glared at the two. “I understand how you feel, Otabek. The only reason why I’m more relaxed this time around is because my coaching fees were no problem for me to pay off.” He patted Otabek’s hand to comfort him, “unintentionally” giving Otabek a perfect view of his golden ring. “It was a nightmare when I was in America for college and skating competitively.”

Otabek appreciated that Yuuri was familiar with the “stressed” part, but he was talking about the “poorer than dirt” part. “Did you work?”

Yuuri’s face suddenly heated up at least twenty degrees hotter.

Victor whipped out his phone and started another livestream. “Hello, viewers! This is Victor soon-to-be Katsuki-Nikiforov and Yuuri soon-to-be Katsuki-Nikiforov with the Ice Kitten of Russia and the Anti-Hero of Kazakh. This just in, a fascinating new story has been revealed about Yuuri’s off-season job while he was in America! Yuuri, do tell!”

Victor tried to encourage Yuuri by pouring him a cup of sake. He was disappointed when Yuuri shyly pushed away the cup…

… only to take a swig from the bottle itself.

[imagine-those-skaters]

You can take out Viktor for the request i sent 💚💙

This ask is so interesting~! And honestly I’m so tired of Viktor even though I do love him, so YESSSSS. AND SORRY, THE FIRST ONE IS SO LONG I HAVE TO PUT THE REST UNDER THE CUT!!

-Hahaha you’re a what now-At first Yuuri just doesn’t plain believe you-Ghosts? In this world?-It’s more likely than you think-You try to insist you’re not joking but Yuuri just shakes his head-He doesn’t bluntly disbelieve you, instead he does the “Sure you are” stuff which is a little worse if you had to be honest-He does wonder why you go out at the most curious times, and why you travel to strange places-Actually, did you ever mention what your job even IS?-So, a little curious and a little scared, Yuuri asks if he can come with you next time, to which you eagerly agree-Your next request takes you to Mexico, in Sinaloa, a specific house that’s been long abandoned after there was a raid some time ago-Yuuri continually asks what you’re up to, and what the heck is goin on but you just shrug, “I told you, it’s business.”-So, when you reach the house, a tall, and strangely pink house, with the paint peeling, Yuuri is trembling-He looks over at you with a terrified face before whispering loudly, “Y/N what the f uCK are we doing here?!”-You smile, and pat his shoulder, “Don’t worry, according to the report, it shouldn’t be a lethal ghost. It just seems loud.”-As if on cue the windows practically pulse as loud music explodes from the house, causing Yuuri to almost screech-HE DOES YELP THOUGH, WHICH IS REALLY CUTE, HE’S LIKE A PUPPY-He follows behind you and cut to you two in the parlor room, where you’re off a disfigured guy, in his late teens, desperately clutching his boom box-Yuuri is fucking terrified af, he’s so pale, but he doesn’t want you to get hurt so he tries to pull you back-”Shh, Yuuri, you’ll scare him,” You mumble, as you crouch down EXCUSE ME??-He watches with wide eyes and you start to speak to the sobbing ghost-”Hey. Hey, hey, be quiet. The neighbours hate your music. Reggaeton is garbage, buddy, you don’t have to blast it out the windows and pretend to like it to be accepted. The other guys were fucks- they were doomed crackheads. It’s okay now. You can let go.”-The ghost reluctantly lets go of the boom box, heaving a huge sigh, before disappearing into mist, leaving behind a very dusty and broken boom box-You two leave and he apologizes quietly for not believing you. How did you know what was up with the guy?-Yuuri gets very interested in the way you handle and research your work, and insists on going out with you when you need to-As much as he’s sure you’re an expert in what you do, he still doesn’t want you to get hurt

-Yurio also doesn’t believe you-He squints at you and just does a slow, “Reeeeaaally…. Huh…. Okaaaay….”-What the fuck babe-You try really hard to convince him, telling him of your numerous cases and run ins but he still doesn’t budge-”You think I’ll buy that shit??”-So you can prove it to him, he takes you to a run down factory a few hours drive away from where he lives-There’ve been reports of strange activity, but you’re a little nervous-You’ve received several reports of the place yourself but you’re still in the middle of conducting your research, so you’re not completely prepared-You try to warn Yuri but he laughs, “Aren’t you an expert?? C’mon, babe, don’t worry, we can just explore.”-fuck you………………..-SO, you two go, and you’re nervous and he’s not, WELL, I mean, not that much-The place gives off a creepy vibe, and he’s not exactly into it, but he wants to at least seem brave so you both hold hands because he’s not scared he’s romantic SHUT UP-And you hear someone angrily cursing-Yuri fuckin nearly jumps out of his goddamn skin and whips his head around, his grip tightening on your hand so hard you can’t feel the blood flow-”babe hol y fuK PLEASE LET ME HAND LE THIS WITH BOTH OF MY HA NDS”-So your mind is racing, going through any possible reasons the spirit is lingering in this world- it sounds angry, really angry, so it must have been pissed off for some reason-You turn the corner, and there is a somewhat fat man, vigorously going through his papers, cursing and sweating ectoplasm and he looks on the verge of angry tears-You shake off Yuri’s hand (to which he nearly screams at you) and carefully approach the spirit-”S-Sir? I’m sorry, sir, I know you’re busy.”-”BUSY?!” The ghost barks back, making Yuri quietly screech and jump, “Hah! That’s a fuckin understatement. We’re behind schedule- I’ve had to issue orders to work WITHOUT the safety equipment just so we can work faster. These poor people, I’m a fucking shit supervisor, what if they get killed?! But we need this money… the company manager is breathing down my neck, we’ve had to cut the employees pay, I just-” He looks like he’ll cry any minute, “I’m so fucking tired.”-You let out a noise of realization, before you slowly move your hand to gesture around-”Sir, it’s okay now. The factory is closed. The business went so well, you had to move to the factory at the far east of town, so your product amount could increase. They all have their jobs- with better pays. It’s okay now. Take a break. It’s okay.”-The ghost looks around, wide-eyed, tears running and turning to ice when they hit the floor. He lets out a sigh and his shoulders sag-”I’m so glad. I really need this rest.” He mumbles before he turns to mist-Yuri is dumbfounded as you both leave, and he’s speechless until the two of you get home-”Was uh… Was what you told him the truth?” He asks at last-You look at him and he’s started to see your eyes look as tired as the ghost’s-”No,” You mumble sadly, “The factory closed down after an accident. The supervisor was checking how the work was going, and because the safety was removed, fell into the machinery. It was shut down after that. Sometimes you just gotta lie so they can find peace. It’s hard. The way they look at you is hard.”-After that, Yuri vows to help with whatever you need-He makes sure you get the chance to unwind, and does his best to lift your mood, because handling ghosts is hard and emotionally draining-He also reminds you of the things and tools you usually take, and often asks different questions over them, such as what they do and their purpose-Yuri feels guilty after not believing you, so he does his very best to make your job easier any way he can

-Minami is a firm believer in ghosts are you fuckin kidding me-But it’s probably something along the lines of “I want them to be real but I have my doubts but if anyone proves it then I will believe it 100%” kinda believing-So when you tell him he’s super wide-eyed and like, “WOAH, wait really????? Woah!!! Really?!?!”-Immediately insists you take him on your next job, practically begging you-He needs to know if you’re really telling him the truth and not just playing with him-So you agree and Minami is fuckin pumped so he eagerly awaits your next job-You get a call from somewhere in the UAE, and this is where it concerns you-The caller requests a report of any spirits (and if possible, the cleansing of them) in Al Qasimi Palace in Ras Al Khaimah, and although you agree, 1) you don’t know if it’s possible to really cleanse it of its spirits, and 2) don’t know if it’s really safe to take Minami-But he insists, and eventually, you both find yourselves in a plane, on your way-In the meanwhile he asks all sorts of questions, how do you know if a haunted place is real? how do you get rid of ghosts? how did you start the job? etc-He’s super curious and excited and almost doesn’t sleep at all during the flight-BABE LET ME SLEEP…..-So, once you arrive, check into your hotel, your visit being paid by the client-You’re trying to find your way around, hoping to find the palace before sundown, but in a way, it found its way to you-The whole place is obviously run down and abandoned, the watchmen probably away for prayers, as it was 20 years ago, but if one imagined how it was before, it probably wasn’t that bad, fancy even-Chills are running down your boyfriend’s spine, and he’s suddenly not sure if he really wants to see a ghost, the signs of intruders obviously spooking him as well-He looks out the window and screeches, jumping on you like Shaggy, it’s kinda funny-You turn, calm, and see the face of a sobbing child reflected on the broken glass-Gently putting Minami down, you look through your dictionary, before speaking, roughly translating into “Why are you crying?”-The boy doesn’t answer, and Minami looks like he’s going to burst into tears himself-You apologize to your boyfriend, seeing him so scared hurts-”I-I’m scared but… that poor boy.. He must be scared too… look at him c-crying like that!!” Minami sobs-You kinda blink owlishly at him, before smiling, because goddamn your boyfriend is the sweetest boi-You try talking with the boy again, but he seems captivated with Minami, probably understanding the reasons behind his tears-After a while, the ghost disappears. You strongly doubt it’s passed on, but you don’t really have any leads on how you could really help it with that. Besides, it doesn’t seem hostile-You stay for about one week, but the boy rarely shows up again, at least, not with you, but Minami says he’s seen him many times-Once you leave, you report your findings to your client, and although you’re a little disappointed with the result of your job, you thought it was nice-You take Minami with you on some of your jobs now and again, he seems to really understand the spirits one way or another, but you do teach him a few things-He’s just super happy to be involved in this part of your life, and it adds a bigger portion of excitement to his life-Also, he would probs dedicate some of his performances to his favorite spirits

[pork-cutlet-gays-blog]

Sentence 1,3, or 7 (or all three if you're a saint :D) with Otayuri, please!

i was gonna try and put them all in one but i just couldn’t ;-;

1. “I was just kind of hoping that you’d, y’know…fall in love with me.”

All of his jumps were executed perfectly. His step sequences were excellent and he started to feel confident in the mock program he had put together. 

Yuri didn’t usually do this. He wasn’t the type to create a program inspired by something that’s actually happened to him, but here he was. Practicing a beautiful program to death that he couldn’t wait to show-

“That was awesome.”

He had just finished the program with his final pose when he heard the voice echo through the empty rink. He lost composure and turned, so quick he was almost a blur. There stood Otabek, a smirk playing at his lips and his grown out hair out, flowing over his shoulders. It was usually pulled back into a bun to expose his undercuts, but he didn’t really care about how he looked with Yuri.

Yuri was wide eyed and aghast - spluttering and scratching the back of his neck. “Y-you… you weren’t supposed to see that.” He spluttered, looking to the floor.

Otabek tilted his head. “Why not?” Yuri muttered a few things under his breath, not nearly loud enough for Otabek to hear. The only part he made any sense of was ‘i made a program for you because…” and everything else was nonsense.

“Sorry?” Otabek smirked, bringing his hand to his ear. “I didn’t quite catch that?”

Yuri breathed in and yelled, his voice faltering mid-sentence. “I made a program for you because I was just kind of hoping that you’d, y’know… fall in love with me?” his head was directed at the ice, but his eyes were fixated on Otabek to see his reaction. It sounded stupid. Really stupid - who would fall in love with someone because of a shit quality skating program?

Otabek’s expression didn’t falter as he continued to stare at Yuri. His eyes didn’t widen, nor did he smirk (if you got close enough, you’d be able to see the sheer happiness glowing in his eyes). 

“Damn,” Otabek tore through the silence as he brought his hand to the back of his neck. He was more confident now, looking at (a very embarrassed) Yuri with a smirk. “And all this time I thought I was getting you to fall in love with me.”

3. “You know… that’s not what an apology sounds like.”

This fucking wedding. Yurio thought to himself. Yeah, they’re cute and all. But… fuck. I just wanna get out of here.

For a moment, Yurio wished he was man enough to smoke. Despite the pig’s sister repeatedly telling him that they were terrible, he just wanted to try it. But he wouldn’t. He wasn’t stupid, and he knew that excessive alcohol and smoking can ruin a skater, no matter their age.

Viktor and Yuuri were dancing together (they were both clearly wasted), and Yurio refused to be pulled into anything that reminded him of that damned banquet. He got up from his seat, flashing Yakov and Lilia an apologetic glance before hurrying to get his ass out of there.

He’d become pretty used to the onsen by now. It had about three years after Viktor began coaching Yuuri, and as much as the 18 year old didn’t want to admit it, he had grown accustomed to everything there. The coziness of the stained wooden floors and the Japanese decor, the smell of the amazing food every night… he had even gotten used to the Piggy’s family. 

Yurio scoffed at the thought and found an exit, exhaling as he heard excited cheers and laughter. 

“Come out to cool off, too, huh Yura?”

Otabek scared him, and not entirely because of the sudden greeting, but because of the cancer stick hanging out of his mouth. Yuuri furrowed his brow. “Beka!” he grabbed the cigarette from his best friend’s mouth and gave him a disapproving glare. “You told me you’d quit!”

Before he could throw it to the ground and stomp on it, Otabek snatched the cigarette from Yurio’s fingers and put it back in his mouth (despite him knowing how bad they were, he couldn’t deny that Otabek looked hot with one between his lips) (he tried to ignore that). “Yeah, well…” Otabek almost sneered. He seemed annoyed. “I’m stressed. Too many people here I don’t know.”

At Yurio’s silence, Otabek sighed. He offered the packet to the Russian, looking up only slightly into his eyes (Yurio had grown taller than Otabek by about an inch, despite the Russian being three years younger than him). “Do you want one?”

Yurio winced and shook his head, turning up his nose. He crossed his arms and grumbled a bit, taking in the fresh air before he’d have to go back inside. “You know…” Yuri muttered. 

Otabek might as well have been deaf. “Hmm?”

“You know,” Yurio repeated through closed teeth. “That’s not what an apology sounds like.”

He hid his face from Otabek, this shy persona not really suiting his taller frame. Otabek chuckled, taking a drag from his cigarette before throwing it to the floor and stomping it out. “Sorry.”

Yurio was 90 percent sure he was being a smartass.

7. “There are only so many times I can watch you break before I start to crack.”

Otabek’s arms were folded over the barrier around the ice rink. His eyes were fixed on the only skater in the rink who really mattered to him (there was also Georgi, Mila and a few other skaters who Otabek had no interest in). Yuri Plisetsky was desperately trying to nail a program Lilia had put together for him, and he was really struggling.

It was his fifth time trying to finish it, but he always fucked up at the forth quad - a quadruple toe loop. Otabek’s lips were in a straight line as his face twisted with concern. He watched his best friend, straightening his back and running to the entrance of the rink when Yuri failed a jump and seemingly injured himself. Yuri’s voice echoed through the rink as he swore in Russian.

“Yura!” Otabek was at his side in an instant, helping the boy up and wincing at the sound of his pained groan. “Shit, you sprained your ankle.”

“No,” Yuri shook his head and tried to get away from Otabek, only tripping in the process. “I’m fine. I can try it again.”

Otabek shook his head. “No you can’t.” He decided, his voice stern. “You need to sit down, Yura. You need to rest.” he tried to lead Yuri to the side of the rink, asking Yakov to get him some first aid supplies. 

Yuri grunted at the pain searing up his leg, but he pushed Otabek away and leaned on the barrier, giving his taller friend a harsh glare. “I’m fine, Beka.” he managed through grinding teeth. “I’m absolutely fine. I need to go out there and try it again!”

“Yuri!” Otabek’s voice boomed through the rink, catching the attention of the other skaters. Lilia’s eyes were wide, yet still hostile. She watched Otabek with a cunning stare. “You need to think about your well being! Stop being an arrogant shit and do something that isn’t ridiculously stupid for once!” Yuri stayed silent, his face twisting in something not quite extreme as fear. Otabek sighed and lowered his voice as he wrapped his arms around him.

“There are only so many times I can watch you break,” he began, holding Yuri tightly in his large arms. His eyes were shut tight, and it looked like he could have cried. “Before I start to crack.”

Yuri’s eyes widened for a moment before his arms found their way around his best friend. He hid his face in Otabek’s chest and nodded slowly. “I’m sorry.” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’ll be careful.”

[yoireverse]

conference

((hey everybody!!! so excited to see that so many folks are into this au. gosh. i hope you all enjoy this installment!! ♥ if you draw anything for the au, please tag @narootos​ and @wbtrashking​!!)) summary: Otabek and Yuri take a relaxing walk around Barcelona. Their pleasant chatter is cut off by Chris and Phichit suddenly dragging them into a café.

For some reason, Phichit can’t shut up about the year’s power couple, Coach Yuuri Katsuki and his silver-haired student, Victor Nikiforov.

Understandably, this pisses Yuri Plisetsky off.

word count: ~2k rating: teen ✮read on ao3 | ✮reverse fic tag | ✮askbox

Hey, Yuri stumbles over the words while he texts, scrunching up his face in annoyance. I know this is kind of weird to ask since we have the free skate tonight, but I was wondering if we could meet up and hang out.

The blonde skater throws his phone to the side as soon as he hits send.

Otabek had just offered to be Yuri’s friend two days ago, and he’s already being a surly weirdo about the whole thing. Yuri has lived and practiced around a handful of loud personalities. His rink mates can be suffocating. He has very little energy for socializing with Victor, Mila, and Georgi after practice is dismissed, so Yuri pouts in his hotel room and stares at the wall.

He’d already spent the early hours of the day cruising through his social media. There’s an infuriating amount of pictures on his Instagram of the Yuri’s Angels account where Yuri has been stuffed into a pair of cat ears or something equally demeaning. Victor and Yuuri are admittedly quiet on Twitter and Facebook, for all that the two of them had been flirting nonstop at dinner the day previous.

Yuri’s rink mate had flashed his gold ring with a huge blush and an even bigger smile. “Yura, look!” Victor hadn’t stopped beaming about the damn thing, and honestly, Yuri just needs a damn break from all of it. He could clear his mind by walking around the city, but this would leave him easily accessible to an ambush by his fans. Yuri rationalizes that he shouldn’t be scared of asking Otabek to hang out.

Otabek is Yuri's friend. Not a rink mate. Not someone to be idolized or to bicker with. Just a friend, who remembered him from days long past, and who Yuri had foolishly tuned out in his memories. Now they have the opportunity to make up for last time. The Kazakh teenager is nothing like Victor - sappy and crass and a bit air-headed. He’s not like Yuuri, who always acts like he’s going to faint if someone stands too close and who fusses over Victor like he’s a baby deer. Mila’s like his annoying older sister, Yakov and Lilia act like nagging parents, and Yuri just wants some quiet time to himself, maybe hanging out at a high altitude and letting the breeze hit his face.

That’s why he sends the text in the first place, but when he doesn’t receive a reply within five minutes, the blonde panics that he has overstepped his boundaries.

When his phone buzzes, it’s been eight minutes since he sent the text and concern flooded his mind. Yuri tentatively picks up his cell and draws in a nervous breath before he reads the message. Once he eventually looks at it, Yuri exhales happily.

Yeah, sounds good. Wanna meet up at the same place we did yesterday?

Yuri hurries to type back his agreement.

//

Otabek’s motorcycle engine comes to a low hum as he parks and Yuri smiles softly at him, lifting a hand in greeting.

The two of them grab snacks and just walk around the high terraces for an hour. Otabek occasionally points out interesting thing and snaps photos. Yuri switches between walking beside his new friend in comfortable silence and cursing about fans lurking near shops that have affordable t-shirts with animal prints. Otabek casually steps to Yuri’s side when girls get a bit too close, making sure the small Russian teenager is out of sight.

At first, Yuri wants to be pissed about it, because for all of Otabek’s talk of seeing Yuri as a soldier, he’s sure treating Yuri like he’s delicate. After a while, Yuri starts to realize that Otabek looks plenty relaxed, like he knows that Yuri can handle his own business, but he just quietly wants to help, and Yuri grows a little less cautious.

Yuri starts to ramble on and on to Otabek about life with his coach and choreographer, the former prima ballerina. Talking about their fledgling careers leads the blonde into an angry rant, but the Kazakh teenager just nods and smiles, happy to listen.

“You know, fucking Victor Nikiforov,” Yuri rushes to say, his arms flailing about, “He was never bad, y'know? Maybe just uninspired. He never applied himself to the sport as much as he should have. There’s something wrong with his brain. He could’ve…” the blonde trails off for a minute, then huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “That guy. He could’ve been legendary by now, but he had to get his ass kicked by his big softy of a coach.”

“That sounds like a contradiction,” Otabek replies gently, his voice a low timbre.

“What, that his weak ass mentor showed him how things are done?” Yuri kicks a rock on the ground and rolls his eyes. “Fluffy doesn’t take shit from Nikiforov, and he coordinated my SP, too. The dude may look like a happy little airhead, but Fluffy is no joke. If he came back to the competition today, Nikiforov and I would have a run for our money.”

Otabek chuckles. “Sounds like you really admire Yuuri.” His shorter friend looks scandalized, which just makes Otabek laugh harder. “I mean, it’s not to the point of obsession or anything, but it’s obvious that you spend a lot of time with them, even off the ice. Where does Yuuri stay in Saint Petersburg?”

“With Nikiforov, of course,” Yuri answers like this is obvious. “Those idiots live together, eat together - hell, they invite me over to spend time with them in Nikiforov’s cramped-as-shit apartment because they clearly aren’t sick of being draped over each other all the time!!”

The taller teenager hums, digging his hands into his pockets. “That’s nice, Yuri.”

“We’re friends now,” Yuri snappily tells him, his lips quirking upwards. “So Yura is fine.”

“You can call me Beka too, then.”

Otabek listens, smiling and nodding as Yuri melodramatically tells stories of Yakov’s horrid lectures and about his piss-poor coffee-making skills. He tries to warn Yuri when the younger skater nearly walks into the door of a little café, but his words fall on deaf ears. Two people are walking out of the shop with drinks, and luckily, nobody gets splashed.

Four of the year’s Grand Prix finalists happen upon each other in a total coincidence, and all of them have time to burn.

//

Yuri’s a little disappointed that he can’t just spend his time rambling without being judged any more, but Phichit corrals the teenagers into the store. “C'mon, sit, sit!! We won’t be long.” The Thai man sits across the table from Otabek and Yuri, who are both closed off and a bit skittish. Chris leans way too far over the table as he smiles at them, which just makes the blonde teenager slump even further down into his chair.

Phichit and Chris cradle paper cups and spare a moment to laugh at themselves for coming back inside the store so quickly.

“What brings you guys out this morning?” Phichit beams at the two of them. Otabek shrugs and turns to the blonde.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Just didn’t feel like staying in. Is there some sort of problem with that?”

“So surly,” Chris hums, taking a swig of his drink. “Did the two of you want to get anything?”

“I try not to have coffee too often,” Otabek replies flatly.

“Not interested,” Yuri snarls lowly. “Are we fucking done now?”

“Oh, geez, don’t be so mad.” Phichit laughs patiently. “You guys are still sort of new to the skating scene, and isn’t it sort of fun getting to know each other?”

The two teenagers in his audience are indifferent.

Regardless of their varying levels of interest in becoming friends with the other competitors, (Otabek doesn’t really feel a connection, and Yuri would sooner flick all of them off), when Phichit is not smiling and soft and friendly, he is a bit intimidating. His dark eyes are sharp and focused, and he’s come in second place at handfuls of competitions beside Yuuri, his best friend.

Chris is no slouch, either. He’s been first, second, and third at Worlds, at Europeans, and more. The two men are sharks in the water, and if they say that they’re interested in getting to know Otabek and Yuri, there is absolutely more to the story. Phichit and Chris might act nice now, but they’ll be out for blood in the evening. There’s no harm in catering to their whims while the older men are willing to pretend that all the Grand Prix finalists can all just get along.

“Not really,” Yuri grumbles eventually. “But something tells me you didn’t bother us just to act all sweet. What do you want?”

“I was wondering,” Phichit answers quickly, hands already flying to his phone, “How Yuuri and Victor act when they’re in Saint Petersburg. They can’t possibly be that clingy at practice, can they?”

Chris rolls his eyes. “I told him earlier that Victor Nikiforov is the driving force in their relationship. Victor would cling to anybody warm and willing. He’s never had anybody that close to him, so he’s probably desperate to hold onto that soft little coach of his.”

“Yeah, but Yuuri’s not like that!” Phichit puts his drink down to wag his finger at the Swiss man. Yuri watches them bicker with wide eyes. “No matter how much he cares about Victor, he wouldn’t let Victor hang all over him and be hyper affectionate in public. He’d get too nervous. Anyways, this is where you come in, to enlighten us!” Phichit turns his dark eyes on the long-haired teenager and Yuri jolts in shock.

He sits up just a bit, huffing and blowing hair out of his face. “That’s what you pulled me in here for?” Yuri Plisetsky throws his new friend a dirty pout before sighing and indulging Phichit and Chris. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but the love birds are horrible no matter where they’re at. They bicker about buying new boots and forgetting to pack lunches. They’re gross and I hate them. I avoid them as much as I can.”

Otabek raises an eyebrow, but he refuses to call his friend out. Just twenty minutes ago, Yuri had been talking about having dinner at Victor’s grungy apartment with the couple.

“I told you so,” Chris laughs at Phichit, who is pouting. “So, tell me, is Yuuri going to clean himself up and spoil his younger man silly?”

“Oh god, Yuuri’s too stingy for that,” Phichit comments. “Even if Victor has managed to make him loosen up enough for public kisses and stuff, Yuuri hates to shop. He’d just get annoyed.”

“I bet he would do it for Victor, though,” Chris hums airily. “Love changes people.”

The Thai man sighs, smiling a bit. “I guess so. It’s totally strange to see him like this, but I’m glad Yuuri’s happy.” After a moment, he looks at the scowling teenager and tilts his head with curiosity. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re upset.”

“I am upset,” Yuri says, slamming a fist on the table. After a moment, he stands up and Otabek follows him silently. “I have to hear about those two during my precious off-hours? Get real. Bye!”

Otabek apologetically bows his head to the two of them, maintaining a level head while Yuri stomps out of the café.

Phichit kicks back in his chair with a grin. Chris slaps him lightly on the arm. “You are a bad man,” the Swiss man murmurs.

“You gotta get your kicks when you can,” Phichit replies quickly. “Yuri’s a good kid, underneath all the teen angst. I really did want to talk to him and become better friends.”

“Then don’t tease him.” Chris finishes his drink and stands to exit the shop for the second time. Phichit trails behind, taking a moment to snap one last photo of the two of them together. “You know that he has a hard time. Don’t lie and say that you’ve never read his social media.”

Phichit sticks out his tongue. “Of course I do. That’s why I reached out to him. The little dude could use a few more friends, don’t you think?”

Chris just laughs.

//

Otabek and Yuri silently walk together until the shorter male is slightly less furious.

Yuri stops in front of a sandwich shop. “Hey, sorry about today.”

The taller boy shakes his head. “It’s okay. I had a good time.”

With a scoff, the blonde asks, “Even with the bullshit in the middle?”

The Kazakh shrugs and smiles. “It was entertaining, at least. If you hadn’t asked me to hang out, I just would’ve been sitting in my hotel, waiting for the time to pass.”

Yuri starts at that. “Oh. Well. I’m glad I could help.” He nervously fidgets with his phone, which is full with frustrated messages from Yakov, asking about his location. 

Yuri’s surprised that Victor and Yuuri haven’t started leaving voicemails at this point, because Yuri Plisetsky has been gone without letting them know since eight A.M. It’s twelve-forty-two now. 

He supposes that Yuuri’s busy practicing with Victor for the FS skate in the evening, but it’s still strange. “I’m going to grab a sandwich and head out now, yeah?”

“Alright,” Otabek quietly says. The two of them part with a small wave.

Yuri is still a bit pissed about his talk with Phichit and Chris, but overall the day had been pleasant.

He walks back to the hotel with confidence, letting Lilia and Yakov’s fussy words roll off of him.

Before warm ups start, Yuri sends Otabek one last message, having been too nervous to tell the Kazakh in person.

Thanks, Beka.

About twenty minutes later, Otabek replies, Anytime, and Yuri Plisetsky pushes Mila off of him when the girl asks why Yuri is smiling.

[chocolatechiplague]

Delete. -Yuri On Ice Fanfiction

Story Also On Ao3

Summary:  Sometimes it’s easy, other times it’s scary how numb his fingers felt, how slow and heavy when he talked to people in his skating community, when he responded to those that looked up to him. How every word was just another lie, another fragment of a make up persons story, a made up personality, everything simply made up, just an empty smile and just an act. It was scary how easy it was, and it was easy to feel how scared he got because of it all. Ever think about how easy it would be to delete? Yuuri always did.

Ever think about how easy it would be to delete? Yuuri always did.

Every single breath felt like it was being sucked into a dark, uncaring hole. A whirlpool to never come back. It would rattle inside his ribs, in his lungs, push blood that couldn’t find where the heart was with how it was replaced with a black hole. It felt like a void. That everything that there once was, it was all gone and nothing else. It was as if every emotion had packed up, picked up their safe deposit from the landlord and took off from the empty shell. The wall bare, not even white, an unattractive off color that was a mix of pale mucus from the back of the throat and the color found when a bug is squished against your shoe.

He had tried everything while growing up. From bad TV shows, watching his favorite figure skaters including his Idol, showers where he could vent his emotions, hiding himself under the cover of rushing water, nights huddled in the corner of his bedroom because his bed felt like a luxury he didn’t desire. He had tried staring at pill bottles, pausing when cooking to look at the knife, walking a bit too close to a steep and sudden edge when he left the house, and while they gave the closest bit of comfort he could find in the span of time not on the ice, none of it did anything to push away the emptiness.

It wasn’t always so much suicide that was on his mind, though it came up often in his thoughts, it was the blankness in his chest, the empty shell, the starless galaxy that ripped at him piece by piece. There was no one to talk to about it either. The few times he tried, either they didn’t understand and told him to just think of happy things, he was just being a little sad, or after finding out this entire large chunk of who he was, they stopped listening, stopped caring, turned the focus from just being there for him in these times to talk about themselves. How much harder they had it, how much they went through in life and yet they weren’t ‘asking for attention’ like he was.

Food flip-flopped between it stopping in sounding appealing, even when his stomach screamed as it shrink from eating nothing but a small handful of chips and some bubbly soda, to trying to fill the void in his chest with what comfort food he could find in his mother's home cooking. Water itself was replaced with said soda outside the rink, because if he had to be some form of hydrated, he may as well lace it with all the crap he could and maybe let it encourage an early death.

Sleep was always an issue on its own. It ran from him at all hours. When wide away, it taunted him. When drowsy, it winked and promised later. In bed it would stand just far enough off the edge of his bed that it was out of reach, saying how he wasn’t trying hard enough. Unless he knocked back sleeping medication, sleep would only embrace him with reluctant arms in the morning rays clawing up the curve of the earth.

Every smile, every joke, every laugh was fake. Even in the times they felt real to even him, it was fake. He had just gotten so good at the lies that even he was starting to believe them. Or was it that he was so desperate for even a scrap of happiness that he ran head first into his own lies? After late night confessions of depression, of how fucked his world was in the darkness of his and Phichit’s room,, he would pop up with nothing but jokes and happy words, saying it was just an odd emotion from lack of sleep. As if those thoughts weren’t his every waking moment.

Sometimes it’s easy, other times it’s scary how numb his fingers felt, how slow and heavy when he talked to people in his skating community, when he responded to those that looked up to him. How every word was just another lie, another fragment of a make up persons story, a made up personality, everything simply made up,  just an empty smile and just an act. It was scary how easy it was, and it was easy to feel how scared he got because of it all.

Ever think about how easy it would be to just delete? To delete everything? Fail competitions so retiring was the obvious choice, they would want you to quit, delete all social media, everything that connects you to people, delete all records and traces of yourself, delete every breath you take. He thought of that a lot, almost every day. Some days only for a second, other days would be for hours on end in the panic of anxiety under his sheets.

How easy it would be to delete the empty feeling in the chest. To just delete everything there is. How easy it would be because crying doesn’t help when there is nothing to cry about beyond the very fact you even exist.

So many times, it wasn’t his practice heavily schedule that kept Yuuri alone. So many times it was people just not wanting to deal with him, not wanting to accept when he did let them see a hint of who he was. He had some people that he had known years, talked to daily, who after so much trust, got to see a little of his insecurities, his self hate. Soon after they just. . . left. They just took off.

They left him without a single word of why, without care. It was the normal once he hit eighteen, when he accepted that this was just another side of how people were when his little support system was torn off in an entirely different continent across what was essentially a vast bathtub seasoned heavily with salt. You couldn’t let anyone know you, the mask had to be there constantly. Phichit had seen hints, but every time, he laughed it off as being sleep deprived, over working himself to land a certain jump. He couldn’t accept that if his best friend saw it all, he could possibly think he was pathetic, a pity case, weird. That none of it was true. Look at these comedical stumbles over his skates and silly falls, aren’t they funny? Aren’t they stupid? Aren’t they fake? Aren’t they pathetic and forced? Don’t they just tell a stupid story that covers up the normal, the boring, the pathetic they become over time? Don’t they symbolize everything he is? Don’t you feel better once they fade from existing and leave your life? Of course they do, because over time, nothing matters anymore.

With his job, it would be nothing at all to ‘slip up’, twist ever so slightly in a jump to land wrong, not only give up the dreams that once kept him going as a child that now meant nothing to him, but also to give up the hopes those around him had of his own future. It would hurt to hurt them, sure. It would feel like he was being put to his knees, head down, muzzle to back of his neck, to the spot between his eyes, under his jaw, in front of the spot he was suppose to have a heart instead of a black hole and just give up on him with broken hearts at what he could have been. But in a way, it would make things so much easier, to not have those high expectations pushed on him.

Really, the topic came to mind rarely, at least anymore, but it came up. There was something to be said about what he went through, that he could tell the difference between those who gave up, those who tried even a bit for any reason to survive this, what the chemicals in the brain refused to give and refused to do their best, and between those who romanticized the every day fucking suffering of his anxiety, haunting depression and self hatred. The people who thought it was so fucking beautiful, the scars, physical, mental and emotional he walked with every day on his soul. Those who thought having a single bad day could be compared to anything like this. The ones wanting to talk loudly about what they thought it was like, that made everyone uncomfortable because how hard they tried to be ‘beautiful just like you people’. The same people that thought the daily pills that kept every day barely survivable were a curse and should be banned.

These were the people that always seemed to be there in your life to rub salt in every wound. You can't do this as well as me, you didn't do how I want you to do it, you don't do enough here and there, and any attempt to show your own view of it, to explain, open your mouth for once and actually speak, it's just rubbed in harder, cutting off your voice  that they have a high expectation of you, they obviously know more and their experiences are more important than anything. Don't like a certain food? Well it's my favorite, it's so good. Don't like a certain type of animal? Not only did I rescue mine from a horrible place but then they saved my life! Fear of something? Oh how I adore this thing, what a silly thing, my own fear is far worse and harder to handle. Work your ass off with bloodied feet trying to land a quad Salchow? Ha! I got it on my first try.

People often make dark emotions worse, they backhand with making everything about their lives when under the guise of helping and caring, then throw in ‘well if you were only more like me with this subject’ in the end. People feel just as much as a cancer as the deep anxiety that roots against the ribcage and lungs. If anxiety is a cancer to the lungs, depression as a heart’s black hole, then people are the ones cutting off someone's feet then scoffing about how tired they are walking, a nail gun to what should be a support system.

It was something so hard to accept. That not everyone was grinning as they watched you fail in front of them, fail yourself. It was something that took years and years to build any kind of trust to open up, accept any help. It was the hardest thing he had ever had to do to say outloud and not in the dark corner of the room at night with a tight chest that he needed help, an intervention before he was truly taken over by the hole where he should have a heart. It was almost impossible for so long to swallow down the reality that he could be loved, that there wasn’t hidden hatred and pity towards him by a tiny handful of people. It wouldn’t ever fix him, nothing ever would, but in time, it eased him through some of the panic so he could keep trying for dreams.

The extended hands, those who shared his blood, the best friend that sat with him for years in a tiny dorm room as he cried into their shoulder without asking, never pushing Yuuri for answers he didn’t have, the glowing ball of wonderful of a man who pulled him into a warm lap, crook of a neck with soothing knuckles along his spine when he felt nothing inside. They were all the ones who tried, that started to notice more and more once he let them see past the blindfold he forced on them. While they couldn’t fully understand, never would, they didn’t judge or leave him, they worked their asses off to prove it when his doubt raised and continued to love him and be next to him, holding his hand when he needed it.

Ever feel like you should delete? Everything would be better? That feeling would never leave, but it could be slightly dulled, a hesitation to the button so easy to press.

[imsorryforihavesinned-blog]

Hot Spring

“Yuuri! You should stop moping” Viktor whined at him as he walked into the hotspring, butt naked.

“I’m not moping” He replied, looking away and tightly closing his eyes as he wiggled uncomfortably.

“Oh, come on. It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before” He said, flipping his hair back as he sat down next to Yuuri in the hot water.

Yuuri instinctively moved away so he wasn’t so close. Seeing Viktor’s naked body was enough to get him all flustered and embarrassed, he knew that if they touched he would freak out.

The next few minutes were just awkward silence, with Yuuri trying to think of things to break the tension. He felt his body heat up, but decided to blame it on the hot tub and not his embarrassment from seeing such an attractive, perfect man with his very own eyes.

Viktor let out a sigh as he sunk up to his neck in the water. Yuuri looked at the top of his head, and remembered when he poked it during practice. Before he could even think, he mirrored his own actions and prodded the silver hair as he did before.

Viktor didn’t react how he did the first time. Instead he just looked up at Yuuri, and placed his whole hand on top of his head.

“Viktor, I really don’t think-” Yuuri squeezed out, mostly out of habit whenever he was in these situations.

“Strange” Viktor said, tilting his head as he looked longingly into Yuuri’s panicked eyes. “You act like this, yet your Eros is so… convincing”

Yuuri swallowed hard, not knowing what to reply.

“Well… That’s on the ice. It’s just like acting, telling a story” He replied, before reaching up to grab Viktor’s hand.

His first intention was to move his hand away, although he necessarily didn’t want to, he felt it was just the appropriate thing to do.

As soon as his hand made contact with Viktor’s, his arm went limp. He didn’t want to move it. And neither did his body.

He tilted his head down, scared to see how Viktor reacted. He felt a hand on his chin, which tilted his head back up again.

Viktor was only a few inches away from him, Yuuri being able to feel his soft exhales on his skin.

His mind was going crazy, all logic and anxiety leaving him as he gave in to his Eros side, placing the hand that was on top of Viktor’s hand on his face.

“See? You’re not as Agape as you think” Viktor whispered, biting his own lip.

Yuuri hated it when Viktor referred to him as either Agape or Eros, but even he had to admit he had been going crazy since Viktor became his couch.

Taking Viktor by surprise, Yuuri put his free hand around Viktor’s bare back as he pulled him in so they were only a few centimetres apart.

He smirked. “I’ll show you Eros” He whispered as he stroked Viktor’s cheek with his thumb.

He gently pulled Viktor even further towards him, closing the gap that was between them. Their lips barely met as they softly brushed over eachother. Yuuri pulled away, teasing Viktor.

Viktor tried to lean in again, wanting more. He was like a dog when they taste blood. One little taste of Yuuri and he went crazy, wanting more. Yuuri placed his fingers on Viktor’s lips, stopping them from making contact again.

“Yuuuuuuuuurriiiiiiiiiiiii! Don’t tease me” Viktor whispered, again attempting to snab a kiss.

“Tut tut. You can barely even control yourself” Yuuri nibbled on Viktor’s ear, sending shivers down his spine.

“God sake, Yuuri” Viktor grabbed both of Yuuri’s hands and held them firmly. He pressed his face against Yuuri’s, this time passionately and desperately, they’re lips locking.

Yuuri managed to get out of his grasp, and wrapped both of his now free hands around Viktor’s neck, not allowing him to leave. Their hearts beated as one as their mouths moved together, each of their desires being filled.

They both pulled away as they struggled to regain their lost breath. They made solid eye contact as they both replayed the past few minutes over and over in their head.

“Yuuri” Viktor managed to get out through struggled breaths. “Let’s do this often, yeah?”

*first Yuri!!! On Ice fic ooo*