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bxllafanficc · 3 years

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¡Skate/sing your hearts out! (Yuri Plisetsky x reader)

(part seven)

Part one. Masterlist!

Summary: After last year's cancellation of Figure Skating Grand Prix, Yuri Plisetsky finds himself unable to bring out his inner skater after a year of doing nothing but enjoy life like a regular teenager. That's when you enter the picture; We Are Voice Grand Awards's currently hottest competitive vocalist come first place two years in a row. Just like the other competitors of Grand Prix, it turns out that Victor and Yuuri faces the same issue. With an arrangement between Victor and Yakov, they agree to travel to Japan and hire you as a mutual coach for Yuri and Yuuri to help bring back the emotion into their performances like before, maybe even more intense than ever. Yuri however, who's never experienced issues with his coaches before, for some reason finds this one particularly difficult to coexist along with in their (reasonably) odd partnership. Warnings: none

*Yuri's POV*

(Next week)

A week had passed by in a rather slow pace. Yuri's recovery seemed to never end when it had just been a few days. But those days were spent sleeping and eating, using his phone and sleeping some more. Mostly he had no one to talk to since everyone were busy with their own lives. Especially (Y/n) who had to keep her inner performer alive at all times. Her coach came with the idea of hosting a smaller gig where (Y/n) would perform about two or three numbers for the people of Japan. It was planned out as a small nightclub gig at first but the numbers of interested in Japan rose over the charts and well... (Y/n) said that she didn't want to let anyone down. Though her coach was apparently hesitant into taking more than a hundred people. 'Three numbers are too little for a concert.' They said but the people of Japan insisted on paying for the price a concert ticket anyway.

(Y/n) had told him this two days after his fever started. He remembered it made him scoff at how she decided the ticket would only cost a quarter of what a normal concert ticket would then. He had told her it was a ridiculous way of thinking.

He barely saw her after the first day of his fever. The way Yuri had taken a hold of her hand and fallen asleep... She waited until he woke up. Well, not exactly waited. She fell asleep at the edge of his bed.

And since that, the two of you barely talked during the days. They barely even met before she went to bed because she spent every waking hour to practice her numbers with her backup dancers. She still made you breakfast when she head the time though.

Yuri's glad it would soon be over and he could go back to normal. Everyone had been attending to him like he was some child and he felt like a huge burden. He had told Victor that he wished (Y/n) especially wouldn't just dismiss his attempts at doing things on his own just because he couldn't get out of bed with single effort. 'Right, she told me about that! You fell on your face right after while trying, didn't you?' He had replied.

So... yeah... Yuri wanted things to return to normal real fast. Yakov had promised him that he would get to start his session with (Y/n) as soon as the music for the program was set. And that was what Victor had been helping him with a couple times. It was hard to find something he wanted to use. Everything felt overused and boring. Just another performance. Yuri didn't want it to pass as that. He wanted to stand out and earn his gold medal for real just as last year. Now was also really the year of improvement so the music had to be well thought through. He was certainly going to take advantage of having a coach for emotional performances with him this season as well. Meaning, his free skate program was already set to be something hurtful and strong. Not love, he already did that. Something far more serious. He wanted the audience to cry after his performance. Everyone should be bawling. Yakov, piglet, Victor and even (Y/n).

Most important of all, no one would be expecting him to do a program with such deep meaning. Because he was one to avoid it in the past.

His short program should be something upbeat and flashy. He wanted the choreography so intense that he'd be coughing up blood at the end of the performance, if that was possible. So the music had to make the pulse of the audience rise when hearing it. Meaning, the music would be in the rock genre. And he already had just the song for it.

This performance would show off his skills and flexibility as well as the importance of his stamina since the entire program would be non-stop step sequences and jumps throughout almost the entire music. Since he intended to be in better shape than ever before before the competition started, he felt no point in holding back on anything. If he played it safe, then what was the point?

"Ah! Good morning Yuri! I come bearing gifts!" Victor busted the door open with his foot and stumbled inside the room, balancing a tray in his hand. The tray was set down in front of him and Victor sat down at the end of Yuri's bed.

"Where's (Y/n)?" Yuri was truly surprised to see Victor being the one to bring you the breakfast today. It had been her until now. And he hadn't even seen as much as her face today since she left so early.

"Ouch. I'm replaced already? I can't go on knowing I'm not your favorite anymore, you know." Victor put a dramatic hand to his forehead and fell backwards onto Yuri's legs. The tray with the breakfast threatened to tumble and Yuri made an effort to stabilize it. It was bacon and eggs with apple slices. A part of him felt a little sad that the slices weren't in the shape of stars...

"You were never my favorite, old man. And you didn't answer my question." Yuri picked up the fork and pointed it towards the man slopped unto the bed end. He ignored the sad pout he received and took a bite of the apple cut into pieces. Each slice were to large and it didn't even taste the same even though they were of the same apples like yesterday. The eggs were decent and the bacon slightly undercooked. Victor's efforts to cook for the household during the day were appreciated of course. But there was no wonder why (Y/n) stood for the head of the dinner at days when her schedule wasn't as crazy.

"She's practicing like mad. Called her dancers to say that she would be starting a few hours ahead of time because she got an energy boost. She wants the show to be at her best efforts possible."

"I haven't even seen her today. How can she practice like a maniac when she's probably already learned her numbers flawlessly?"

Victor was watching Yuri with a funny look. Probably wondering where all those questions came from.

"I think the show is a way for her to relax."

Say what? Going out of bed before sunrise and coming back from practice just mere hours before midnight could never be considered relaxation. Yuri would never be able to pull that off. That was an insane view of the word relaxing, definitely.

"The steam and demands from her competition in We are voice are currently lifted off her shoulders like heavy weights, you know. This is probably just fun to her. She doesn't have to compete with anyone. I think it gives her a sense of relief."

Yuri stopped eating and thought a little extra on what Victor said.

Yes. She was always stressed in every video where a fan or a nosy reporter came out of nowhere and started recording. Yuri had seen those videos. Especially the one where the random person happened to record the exact moment her mind broke down and she had a breakdown in front of a large crowd. Now there was no denying that Yuri sees (Y/n) as the most weirdest and ridiculous being alive. The way she is so determined to get her way and how much she cares for strangers she's never met. Yuri kind of still consider the two of them to be strangers, even after two weeks being with each other on a daily basis. Her eyes are also too intense for anyone to be up close with to her face and as if that wasn't enough, she's also a morning person and that's already a big warning sign to stay away from a person.

But even though he had had this mental conversation with him many times. Even though he agreed that he disliked her; he couldn't help but being captivated by her performances.

It felt so weird seeing her cry like that just minutes before her performance and then watching her going on stage having the time of her life. There was no doubt she loved her fans and performing on stage but that was one of those moments where Yuri really got to see the mind behind the happy smile. It was the first time he had seen her crying or feeling a negative emotion. It's still the first but he got a taste of her irritated self not so long ago.

It made Yuri think about her performance that day. It was a remarkable song filled with sheerness and excitement and her eyes were still wet with tears as she got up on stage.

"Remember (Y/n) performing 'Animal' during the acappella collaboration sequence?"

"Yes! One of my favorites. She was so happy on stage that day." While it had been true that she found happiness, it's not to ignore how broken she felt right before. 'Animal' by Neon Trees (A/N: listen to the Glee version of the song for the best acapella dynamic!) Was one of (Y/n)'s best performances, according to Yuri. He had watched it on repeat just this morning. There's really nothing special to the song in itself. It was the way she delivered every word and tune with such bravery after her internal battle like that. Her emotional response has always been on point but this particular song was something completely real and touching with her tears glistening in the corner of her eyes the entire performance. The tears of sadness had been replaced with joy and she had genuinely just been having a great time with the acapella group at her side, cheering and jumping around on stage with stars in her eyes.

'Oh, oh

I want some more

Oh, oh

What are you waiting for?

Say goodbye to my heart tonight'

The chorus were always his favorite part. Maybe it was the interpretation of the love-hate relationship the words of the lyrics intended. (Y/n) was belting out 'what are you waiting for' with such passion even though it was hardly a difficult song to perform.

'Here we are again

I feel the chemicals kickin' in

It's gettin' heavier and

I wanna run and hide

I wanna run and hide'

The short verse got him every time. The way her eyes watered at the end and then were immediately blown away by the chorus once again. The way she let go of her sadness and let her happy thoughts consume her. No, she let the song consume her and gave the song a completely different touch never done before.

Yuri had lost count of the time he'd watched it and he knew the choreography and song in and out by now. It was mainly intended for the purpose of studying her expression and getting some kind of inspiration for his music choice. He wanted his theme of his music choice for the free skate program to be 'to let go'. If there's any theme harder than love, then it's letting go of the thing you love. And not just what you love. Letting go to be able to love as well. Whether it's love for yourself or another person. There are countless interpretations and that's what (Y/n) had performed that day, with no intention whatever of doing it in such a way.

"I have... I have chosen the music for my program. At the inspiration of t-that performance."

Now don't get Yuri wrong. He'd never admit it to anyone that (Y/n) had been an inspiration to his free skate. He would probably had figured out the idea anyway, it would just had taken a little longer. And her performance was his own way to interpret it so he'd been the one to come up with the decision anyway. So in a way, she didn't have anything to do with it. And his choice of song would be far more intense and heartbreaking than anything Neon Trees could produce. And so Yuri told Victor about his music choices even though he had no clue why he put that kind of trust into the man.

"Those are some really clever choices when combined with your own vision. I'm almost a little jealous. Maybe I should just hire (Y/n) as my coach myself. It seems like it did wonders for you already!" The man laughed and patted Yuri on the shoulder.

"Nonsense. She hasn't began coaching me yet. She had no part in this." Yuri pushed away the empty tray to make room for sitting up and crossing his legs.

"Oh, but it seems like you learned a lot by ogling her all day long though." The smirk Yuri received made his teeth grit and his ears flush.

"I-i wasn't ogling her!"

"Then what were you doing exactly? I heard 'Animal' playing for a good 30 minutes from the wall connected to the room beside yours." Victor laughed at the startled freeze of The Russian Punk.

Okay fine. Maybe he went overboard with the video. But a new problem had seemed to appear now as he admitted defeat.

Yuri now had a witness that would have to be taken care of somehow. He leaned forwards and gripped the collar of Victor's shirt in a tight fist. The glare of daggers shot forwards onto the smiling man.

"Tell anyone about it and you're gonna have to reconstruct that pretty nose of yours. That's a promise,not a threat."

"Trust me! You won't hear a peep!"

#inspiration #yuri on stage #yurio plisetsky #yuri on ice fanfiction #yuri on ice fandom #yurianime #yuri katsuki #yuri on ice #yuri plisetsky x reader #yuri plisetsky #best anime #anime icons #animelove #anime fanfic #viktor nikirofov #yuuri on ice #yuuri katsuki

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yurimother · 4 years

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LGBTQ Manga Review - She Wants to Do What?

I am so thrilled to be reviewing my first Irodori Sakura release. The Yuri genre has become broader than many of us could have dreamed of a few years ago, with every major Western manga publisher actively licensing Yuri titles. Publishers like Irodori however, give us access to new realms of Yuri. They are the second publisher, the first being Lilyka, to focus on adapting doujinshi (independent comics) into English, notably though Irodori Sakura encompasses all LGBTQ identities, unlike the Lilyka, which is dedicated exclusively to Yuri.

The presentation of Ichinorai's She Wants to Do What? is excellent, as Irodori provides high quality and expertly edited adaptations. Upon opening the inside cover (well relative inside cover, since this is a digital release) I was excited to find a beautiful page giving credit to everyone from the translator to the quality assurance staff in big, bold print. In fact, the inside cover was my favorite page of the manga, as when I first looked at it, I had not yet subjected myself to the garbage following.

The story follows Momoko as she asks her coworker Anzu over to thank her for cover a shift. Anzu promptly responds to these invitations by making incredibly inappropriate comments, telling Momoko that she wants to see her “sex face.” These comments make Momoko uncomfortable and continue throughout the week until finally, at Momoko’s house, Anzu attempts to pressure her into sex until Momoko exclaims that she is a virgin, prompting Anzu to back off and “start with romance.”

The entire premise of She Wants to Do What? is awful. Anzu repeatedly makes inappropriate sexual comments to her coworker, which, especially giving the current age of awareness around sexual harassment, feels utterly disgusting. Furthermore, when Momoko still invites Anzu over, the latter proceeds to pressure her when, again, she is clearly unwilling. The whole situation is excused for comedy and “cuteness,” as evidenced by the sadistic glee in saying outrageous and sexual comments and then blacking them out to maintain this piece as an “all-age” work as Ichinorai refers to it in the end.

My writing history establishes that I can still consider the positive aspects of a work despite some less than ideal material. For example, I understand the more aggressive behaviors in the early volumes of Citrus as the desperate acts of a broken and conflicted girl. While in reality, such actions would be awful and everyone in that series needs a healthy amount of therapy, there is an understanding that it is an exaggerated fiction. However, even I struggle to find redeeming qualities in She Wants to Do What?

I suppose the art is pretty good, but it is hard to admire any technical artist skill when I am so utterly repulsed. For whatever reason, the cover is the worst art in the book, with the proportions of Momoko’s face appearing strange and her figure oddly stiff. However, to its credit, the cover does pretty clearly warn readers of the objectionable material within. Anzu also refers to not caring if she goes out with guys of girls, which hey nice to see some bi/pansexual representation, shame about the everything else.

If it was not obvious, I did not like She Wants to Do What? While I applaud Irodori Sakura for doing fantastic work and making high-quality adaptations of LGBTQ+ doujinshi, this one was a terrible first entry in their catalog. No part of me recommends this manga, even if you are better than me at turning off the parts of your brain screaming “this is wrong,” there is nothing more than assault and abuse to be found in this blessedly short manga.

Ratings: Story – 1 Characters – 1 Art – 6 LGBTQ – 3 Sexual Content – 6 Final – 2

Review copy provided by Irodori Sakura

Purchase She Wants to Do What? on Irodori Lite

#yuri #reviews #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq+#indie #manga #doujin #doujinshi #queer #girls love #gl #gay #wlw

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writemywaytoyourheart · 4 years

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Onsra- Chapter 35: Kiss It Better

banner created by: @envity ♥️

pairing: vampire!jungkook x female reader (also vamp!tae x ga-in oc & vamp!jimin x yuri oc)

genre: E2L, romance, drama, angst, horror

warnings for this chapter: a little blood, panic attacks, some self hatred ;-; characters have a hard time with selflove, maybe I failed this chapter maybe not we don’t know.

word count: 8.9k

Onsra: ML, Previous

I genuinely don't know how I feel about this one but, here it is ;-;

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I told you she would be sweet.

Jungkook takes a deep breath, letting it out through his nose as he sucks your blood slowly. His mind is covered in nothing but darkness. All he can feel is anger and an insatiable hunger as he sinks his teeth further into your neck and sucks harder.

Everything is a fog, none of his memories are clear; all he can feel is a need for blood. Your blood.

See what you’ve been missing out on?

“Kookie, you broke your promise…you said you’d never hurt me…”

Jungkook opens his eyes at those words. With his mind starting to clear, he pulls away slowly. He blinks in confusion, then as you start sliding down the wall, the realization of what he just did hits him. Jungkook grabs you as you fall, his stomach lurching, “Y/n? What—”

The sound of the door opening echoes in the hall, but Jungkook doesn’t even notice it as his mind reels in a blind panic about what he just did to you.

“Jungkook…what did you do?”

He doesn’t answer.

Seokjin steps closer carefully, noticing the blood dripping slowly from the small wound in your neck. Jin’s heart is racing as he tries to assess the situation; your head is lolled to the side and your eyes are closed as Jungkook slides to the ground with you, holding your body gently.

“Y/n?” Jungkook whispers tearfully, not believing what he’s seeing and more so, that he did it to you. He doesn’t remember anything; he doesn’t know what happened to make him turn on the one person he loves the most in this world.

When Jin is a few steps away, Jungkook looks up at him, horror swimming in the youngest’s gaze. “It’s okay, Kook. Just stay calm.” Jin crouches down to the ground to be closer as he reaches out to touch Jungkook’s arm.

The young vampire flinches away. “I- I d-didn’t-…I didn’t m-mean t-to.” His voice is shaking uncontrollably as he looks back down at your unconscious state. In the next second, as Jin tries to touch him again and say something, Jungkook is on his feet and bolting out the front door, shoving passed everyone just coming inside.

“Kook!” Jimin calls after him, but his call goes unanswered.

Jin’s attention is on you now, though. He feels for a pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when he feels a faint pounding through your wrist. “She’s still here. Tae! Please help me.”

The tall blonde hurries over after getting over his initial shock, scooping you up in his arms easily and carrying you to the couch, laying you down gently. Ga-In is right behind him, brushing your sweaty hair out of your face and caressing your cheeks, “Y/n? Can you hear me?” She wipes her tears and continues to gently pat your face when you don’t make any indication of hearing her words.

“Move, move, move.” Jin pushes past everyone gathered in the archway of the living room, grimacing at the pain in his side as he hurries to your side once again.

“Fuck.” He mumbles quietly, then he’s yelling for someone to get a cold rag and his first aid kit.

“Is she dying? Is she going to turn?” Ga-In is frantically wiping her tears, watching as Jin places the cold rag that Namjoon grabbed for him on your burning forehead.

“I don’t know, Ga-In.” Jin’s voice wavers as he reluctantly tells her the truth. Because he has no idea what’s going to happen to you. In all the times he’s seen a person be bitten, they turned, or they died.

No one notices Namjoon watching worriedly from the back before turning and leaving the house, making his way towards the woods.

~ ~ ~

By the time Hoseok has gotten Honey upstairs and away from the chaos, and Jimin has practically dragged Yuri out of the living room at Jin’s insistence for everyone but Ga-In and Tae to leave and give him space, you still haven’t regained consciousness. Jin keeps rewetting the rag to cool it down, then he places it on your forehead until it inevitably heats up and needs to be cooled again. He’s already cleaned and bandaged the wound on your neck, now all they can do is wait.

After a little while, Sooyoung comes into the room and walks over to Tae, wanting to tell him something. Taehyung moves to a side of the living room with her and Sooyoung whispers softly, “I’m not sure of anything, but I know it’s possible for her to be okay. She might not turn, and I don’t think she’s going to die at this point.” Tae furrows his brows in confusion.

“What do you mean? How do you know this?” He whispers back.

Sooyoung shifts awkwardly before pulling up the long sleeve of her shirt and showing him two puncture wounds on her wrist. Then, she pulls her long hair from her shoulder to uncover her neck, revealing two more puncture wounds. She wrings her hands, obviously not comfortable with talking about this.

“The vampires that captured me drank my blood a few times. They always made sure I knew that the only reason they kept me alive and from changing was for their fun. If they killed or changed me, their sport would be over.” Sooyoung looks back over at you, worry creasing her brow.

“They never took a lot of my blood, so I can’t be sure if Jungkook drank too much of y/n’s or if she’s going to change. But I thought I should let you know.” She finishes and tugs lightly at the cuffs of her sleeves in an almost anxious tick.

Taehyung’s heart soars at the knowledge that you really might be alright, as small a chance as it is considering you aren’t awake yet, and they aren’t sure how long Jungkook had you before they came in.

But it’s still a chance.

He thanks Sooyoung quietly and she gives a small nod before leaving the room. Then Tae walks over to relay the news to Ga-In and Jin.

Both are relieved that there is some hope, but no one can relax yet.

An hour passes, and no one has heard from Jungkook. Everyone is aware now that Namjoon is gone too, but no one has any idea where he’s gone to. Jin, Tae, and Ga-In all stay glued to your side, willing you to wake up and let them know you’re okay.

Taehyung paces the room while Ga-In sits on the floor by the couch with her head in her hands, unmoving. Seokjin sits in a chair that’s been placed next to the couch as he stares blankly at the mantel piece where Koko is swimming around in his little bowl, completely unaware of the dire situation.

“Where did he go?” Tae blurts out, clenched fist covering his mouth.

Seokjin doesn’t look away from the mantel as he snaps, “I don’t know. But right now, y/n is our priority…Namjoon probably went to find him.”

Tae frowns at that, but he can tell Jin is only being cold because he’s worried. He knows that Jin is probably dwelling on Jungkook’s absence as much as he is, but he’s feeling overwhelmed, and understandably so. Tae glances worriedly at you again, then he does a double take before hurrying over to the couch.

“She moved!” He breathes in disbelief, catching the attention of Ga-In and Jin, who both jump and turn their attention to you immediately.

You’re lying still as a rock while they stare at you, waiting with bated breath for you to move again. After a full minute of nothing, Tae sighs. “I saw her move, I swear.”

Ga-in brushes a strand of hair off your forehead, then she gasps when your eyelids twitch. “She did move! Did you see that?”

Jin nods, “I saw it. She might be waking up.”

They all watch you anxiously for another five minutes, expecting you to open your eyes at any second.

But you never do.

Jin curses quietly under his breath and drops his head into his hands.

Then it takes all three of them by surprise when your arm twitches suddenly. Ga-In looks at you hopefully while Tae and Jin watch warily, not sure what to expect.

Your arm twitches again, then your whole body starts to move around almost aimlessly.

“Fucking shit.” Seokjin mutters anxiously a split second before you start convulsing. He pins your arms to your side as Tae rewets the towel to cool your flaming skin. Ga-In speaks in hushed tones to keep you calm, but the fear in her eyes is clear.

“What do we do?” Ga-In asks tearfully, not sure if she really expects an answer.

Needless to say, she doesn’t get one.

~ ~ ~

A bright light blinds you, making you squint your eyes in pain. You can’t see anything but walls that are so purely white, it’s too painful to look at. The ground underneath you the same color as the walls, and it wobbles unsteadily under you.

The sharp pain in your neck turns to a dull throbbing as you feel your useless legs give out underneath you, and you fall.

Then, everything goes black.

You reach out blindly, trying to touch anything that can give you a sense of where you are, but your hands meet nothing except air.

The panic starts to rise, and you push it down as best as you can. The throbbing in your neck feels like a flame starting from the one spot and spreading across your neck and left shoulder, licking and burning the untouched skin in its path.

You can hear someone crying, but it doesn’t sound like anyone you know.

The wails make you sick to your stomach, so you try to plug your ears, but the anguished cries won’t be silenced.

You curl into a ball, pulling your legs up to your chest in an attempt at calming yourself. You clench your eyes shut, whispering nonsense to yourself to drown out the loud voice in your head, whispering in glee.

Welcome to hell.

~ ~ ~

Jungkook stumbles through the forest, his mind reeling. He can’t process the fact that he hurt you.

You.

He loves you more than he’s ever loved anyone in his entire life.

And he hurt you.

It won’t click.

He promised you. He promised you he would never hurt you ever again, and now he’s done something so horrible that it makes him physically ill. As Jungkook pushes frantically through the branches of trees in his path, images of your unconscious face flash in his vision. The deep red color of the blood dripping down your neck from the wound that he gave you, seeps into his mind.

And you said you loved her.

Ha!

I’d like to see what she has to say about that when she wakes up.

If she wakes up.

“No! She’s okay.” Jungkook whimpers, finally letting his legs give out as he slumps to the ground. “She’s going to wake up.” Jungkook doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince at this point.

You’re right, she will wake up…

But she isn’t going to be the same.

The horror in Jungkook’s body causes him to shake as he scoots himself backward until his back is against a tree, screaming as he plugs his ears.

“No! No, no, no! She won’t turn, she won’t turn!!”

Look at you…you’re really a monster now.

Not only did you hurt the girl you claimed to love, but you doomed her to a fate worse than death.

“NO!” Jungkook is grabbing at his hair and tugging on it, after plugging his ears has proven to be futile. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

Jungkook gasps and grabs at his chest, wishing more than anything that he had died when the vampire first bit him. He wishes he never found you.

A memory of you wiping deer blood from his hands pops into his head suddenly; your gentle touch on his hands as you ever so carefully clean him after knowing he had done something so vile.

Then an image of you resting your head on his shoulder and touching him gently when you were all crammed into the back of the minivan pushes its way to the front of his mind.

You following him around like a lost puppy, even when he was so cruel to you before.

Your eyes shining when you look at him, your cheeks tinted in a little blush when he makes you flustered.

You throwing yourself into his arms and kissing him when he was so sure that you would never trust him again.

“I love you.”

Your voice whispers in his mind, as soft as ever.

Jungkook’s cries are so gut wrenching that he finds himself hunched over and throwing up into a pile of leaves, gagging on his choked breaths.

He slumps forward to the ground when there’s nothing left in his stomach, his forehead laying on the cool grass as he breathes shakily. Each breath out is a strangled sob, choking him again and again.

Please just let me die.

“Jungkook.”

The vampire doesn’t move when he hears someone call his name, he just lies there and keeps wishing as hard as he can that none of this ever happened, that he had just died that day when he was bitten.

Namjoon sees the youngest curled in on himself at the base of a tree, coughing and choking tearfully. He walks over slowly, not wanting to startle him. “Jungkook.” He says again, but he doesn’t get a response.

Namjoon stops right next to Jungkook, then he sits next to the tree and takes Jungkook’s arm. He pulls him- quite easily- into his lap. Jungkook doesn’t speak, but he doesn’t fight him either. He just lies there and lets Namjoon wrap his arms around him, holding him tightly.

After a few minutes, Jungkook opens his eyes. Namjoon looks down and sees the deep red color covering the youngest’s irises. He would normally be worried that Jungkook is going to go on some violent rampage like he does when this happens, but this time, his heart hurts even worse.

Because Jungkook is calm.

Jungkook must sense Namjoon’s sadness, because he looks up at him and speaks in a choked whisper. “I know…I’m really a vampire now, aren’t I?”

Namjoon stays quiet, but that’s all Jungkook needs to know he’s right. He blinks, a few more tears sliding down his cheeks. “Please tell me y/n is okay.”

“She’s alive, but she hasn’t woken up yet. At least, not while I was there.” Namjoon says softly.

Jungkook buries his head in his hands, still curled in Namjoon’s lap. He’s beyond relieved that you’re alive, but nothing is certain about your state other than that. He doesn’t know how to process this. It feels like a horrible nightmare, and he’s going to wake up any minute, finding you sitting on his bed and nagging him to get up.

You want him to wake up so you can go and feed Koko, pick flowers, and explore the woods. You’re kind of afraid of the woods, but when Jungkook is with you, you aren’t scared of getting lost. Maybe you two can pack a lunch and have a picnic, like you wanted to do for so long. Or maybe he can teach you how to climb trees better, so you won’t have to be so afraid.

Jungkook hates seeing you so scared all the time. He wishes he could take away your fear and promise you he will always be there to protect you.

“Jungkook, will you listen to what I want to say?”

His older brother’s voice breaks through Jungkook’s cluttered and confused mind, yanking him back to reality as the horrible truth weighs down on his chest. He starts to shake again, reaching his hands up to plug his ears.

Namjoon watches him sadly, his heart aching at the sight of the broken boy in front of him.

Then he reaches over and gently takes his hands off his ears, holding them tightly in his own. Namjoon was never the overly affectionate one, although he’s always cared about his brothers immensely. He was never able to show it much.

Jungkook’s eyes are pinched shut as he tries desperately to conjure up the lie he’s convinced himself of. You’re okay and you’re trying to wake him up. You’re okay and you’re trying to wake him up.

“I gotta wake up. I gotta wake up.” Jungkook mutters anxiously, not caring that Namjoon has his hands, just keeping his eyes closed as he repeats the words over and over.

“Jungkook, look at me…look at me.” At the tone of Namjoon’s voice, Jungkook opens his eyes and looks at him. “I didn’t bite her. I didn’t hurt her…” He whispers faintly.

Namjoon purses his lips, trying to gather his thoughts.

“I would never hurt her.”

He looks down at Jungkook, who’s gaze is unfocused, tears brimming in his deep red eyes as he looks somewhere far away.

“I love her…”

“I know.” Namjoon sighs, brushing the hair out of Jungkook’s face that has gotten sticky with his tears and stuck to him. “Listen Jungkook, I think she’s going to be okay…but wouldn’t you like to be there to help her?”

Jungkook nods absentmindedly, and Namjoon knows he’s disassociating himself.

“Kook, you need to stay with me. You can’t help her if you don’t focus.” Namjoon’s voice is strict, but kind. He takes Jungkook’s shoulders and moves him to a sitting position, leaning him against the trunk of the tree.

“You said it was hopeless.” Jungkook speaks in an almost confused tone, his words breathy and unclear.

“What?” Namjoon asks.

“You said it was hopeless…you said we would never be humans again, hyung. You said that. You said that and you were right…you’re always right.”

“Kook-“

“Y/n needs a human…I can’t keep hurting her like this. It’s my fault she’s hurting, hyung.” Tears have started to brim in his eyes again. “Can you do it for me?” His head lolls to the side as he looks at his older brother.

Namjoon is beyond confused. He has no idea what Jungkook is asking of him. “Do what, Kook?”

“Kill me…please.”

Namjoon feels his heart lurch at the words coming from his littlest brother’s mouth. The youngest doesn’t even seem sad about his words, he’s just desperate.

“Just get rid of me, and y/n can be happy again.”

“Jungkook-“

“As long as I’m here she’s going to get hurt!!” Jungkook screams, then drops his head back onto the tree, clearly exhausted.

“Jungkook listen to me-“

“Just stop, hyung-“

“No! Now you have to listen to me!” Namjoon raises his voice, his patience finally gone.

Jungkook looks over at him, waiting for him to speak, but knowing he isn’t going to change his mind.

“Yes, you hurt her Jungkook. But why the fuck would you two be in that position anyway? Because no matter what has happened, she has stayed with you.”

Jungkook blinks back more tears, listening to Namjoon as the older vampire rants, having finally had enough of this.

“You did something wrong. That doesn’t mean you can run away and pretend it didn’t happen, though. No matter what you tell yourself, and eventually convince yourself of, y/n is hurt. Nothing is going to change that.”

Jungkook swallows thickly, knowing that Namjoon is right. He’s been trying to pretend like it’s all a terrible dream, because he can’t fathom himself hurting you like that. He still can’t believe it. He was so confused and horrified at his own actions, that he left you. After hurting you, he left.

First it’s one tear, then another. Soon, he’s crying softly, choking on his tears. “Hyung, I don’t know what to do.” Jungkook looks at Namjoon, his blood red eyes reflecting more pain and regret than the other vampire has ever seen.

“You go back to her…and you don’t give up.” Namjoon says seriously, not willing to watch his younger brother fade away into nothing.

“How can I? I fucked up. I don’t deserve her…she probably doesn’t want anything to do with me.” Jungkook’s breath quickens, the reality of the situation becoming clearer. “What do I do if she turns? Fuck…fuck, I can’t.” Jungkook sobs, his body shaking all over again.

“You get back there…and no matter what happened, you’re going to face the consequences of your actions.” Namjoon puts a hand on his shoulder, making sure he knows he’s there. “Y/n has stuck by you through thick and thin, and even now, I’m sure she is only worried about you. Would you rather leave her forever when she needs you the most?”

Jungkook stares into the forest blankly, his mind battling itself more than it ever has. The darkness looms overhead, threatening to choke out the tiny sliver of light that is left. And it could, in a split second it could take over his mind and leave him as nothing but the empty shell of who he used to be. He’d be no more than a despicable monster, hiding behind the face of his past self.

He doesn’t know why, but something urges him to reach into his pocket. So, he carefully pats them, feeling nothing. Jungkook reaches into his right pocket as Namjoon watches him curiously.

When he pulls out the tiny white flower, smooshed beyond repair, Jungkook’s throat closes. How long had that been in his pocket? He put it there after you had kissed him for the first time. It had fallen out of your hair…

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply.

I’m going to prove that I care about you. I’ll show you, Jeon Jungkook.

He opens his eyes, the tiny light still flickering in the back of his mind, not willing to be over shadowed.

Not yet.

Jungkook wipes his tears, shaking his head as he stands unsteadily before placing the little white flower back into his pocket. Namjoon sighs quietly in relief, thankful that his stern approach didn’t backfire.

Jungkook can’t believe how selfish it was for him to run out on you, as terrified as he was. The amount of times he scared you, and you never ran out on him… He doesn’t want to think about the hurt he’s put you through, but now isn’t the time to run away and pretend it didn’t happen. Jungkook moves to head back, but Namjoon stops him.

“Kook, wait.”

The vampire turns back, a question in his eyes. “What?”

“I was wrong.”

Jungkook looks at him in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Namjoon has never admitted to being wrong before. He was always the genius among them, and everyone usually took his word for things. But whenever someone would question him when they disagreed, he’d never say he made a mistake.

He wasn’t self-centered, but he could be a bit prideful and big-headed at times. Admitting he was wrong about something, is one thing none of them would ever think of hearing come from his mouth.

“I was wrong, when I said it was hopeless.” Namjoon looks away from Jungkook. “I was scared…and I shouldn’t have said it. I knew everyone was panicking because we had just turned, and we didn’t know what was going on. You all turned to me for answers, for hope that things would be alright. But I didn’t give that to you.”

Jungkook swallows, seeing Namjoon stand and still not meet his eyes.

“I always thought I was the brightest…I might be smart, but I’ve learned a lot about wisdom, from all of you. There’s a difference between them. There’s more to life than always being the top and always being perfect, and I’m sorry I failed to teach you that.” Namjoon wipes away a stray tear, “Don’t give up Kook, because there’s always hope. I see that now…and I’m sorry.”

Jungkook walks over to Namjoon and wraps his arms around him, startling the older vampire. “It’s okay hyung, you’ll turn back. I know you will.” He whispers, making Namjoon tear up again. The older of the two pulls away, wiping his face in embarrassment, “We’re in this together. Now, let’s get you back to y/n.”

Jungkook’s stomach flips over but he nods, turning to run back to you, and praying that he isn’t too late to let you know you’re never alone.

~ ~ ~

“Taehyung please get me some more cold water! And grab a glass of water, too!” Seokjin shouts, trying to keep you on the couch as your body writhes around. Ga-In has a hand on each of your arms, doing her best to pin you down without hurting you. “It’s okay, y/n. If you can hear me, just know that you’re alright.” Ga-In says tearfully.

Tae rushes in with the bowl of water and another glass of it. Seokjin has him go into his first aid kit and get some fever medicine.

“How do we give it to her?” Tae asks, his eyes wide in panic.

Seokjin shakes his head, “I don’t know, but she needs something for her fever now. I don’t want to give it to her when she’s like this, she’ll choke. We need to calm her down-”

“She’s opening her eyes!” Ga-In cries in relief as your body slows down to a twitch, your eyes moving under the lids.

Jin leans over you, putting the cold rag onto your forehead, “Y/n? Can you hear me?”

Your eyes flutter open, rolling to the back of your head as they all gasp in horror at the reddish color now covering your irises.

“Fuck.” Jin rasps, trying not to panic.

Ga-In starts sobbing uncontrollably while Tae tries his best to keep everyone calm. Then they hear the front door slam open, and footsteps running down the hall.

Jungkook appears in the doorway of the living room just as you start to convulse again. He runs in and stumbles to his knees at your side, grabbing your hands and holding them close to his chest. “Hey, hey. I’m here. You’re okay, baby.” Jungkook whispers, his voice thick with tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please don’t give up.” Jungkook keeps his composure as best he can but wants nothing more than to crumple and disappear at the sight of seeing you struggle.

~ ~ ~

“Hey, hey. I’m here. You’re okay, baby...please don’t give up.”

Jungkook?

“Jungkook!” You shout and uncover your ears, sitting up in the darkness. The cold voice keeps taunting with a playful lilt, but you ignore it.

You get to your feet and take off.

Maniacal laughter bounces around you, but you keep running.

You’re running so fast, that when you slam into a door, you fly backwards and land on your butt, hard. You wince in pain, then quickly get to your feet and try the knob on the door.

Locked.

“Hey! Let me in!!” You pound on the door, noticing a tiny little window in it that’s covered with a black cloth.

The doorknob turns and you cry out in relief, opening the door and moving to get into the room where you can see light streaming from now.

Are you sure you want to do that?

You freeze, turning to see nothing in the inky blackness. The disembodied voice from before floats around you.

If you go in that door, you’re going to be miserable.

You’re going to be afraid, and for good reason.

You blink a few times, not sure if you should listen or just run while you can.

The world out there is cruel, and full of pain-

Before it gets the chance to finish, you make up your mind and throw yourself into the room, the bright light blinding you as you gasp in a breath of fresh air.

~ ~ ~

The sun filters in through the blinds, signaling that morning has come.

No one has moved from their positions. Ga-In is sitting on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest, her face hiding. Tae sits next to her, doing all he can to stay positive. Jin sits in the chair next to the couch, his head in his hands. And Jungkook is kneeling by the couch, your hands clutched in his, his forehead gently pressing to yours as he whispers to you softly.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. You can do this. You’ll be okay.” Jungkook says whatever goes through his head, fully believing that you can hear him.

He leans back to look at you, your eyes closed but fluttering a bit, like they have been all night. Several times through the night, his mind clouded over with darkness and he was tempted to run again, but he stayed put. He is never going to leave you again.

Then, everyone but Jungkook jumps in surprise when you shoot straight up, gasping. Your eyes are wide open, the red completely gone now, your normal color covering your irises, like nothing ever changed.

Ga-In starts screaming, jumping up from the floor and running to wrap you in her arms, holding you tighter than she ever has.

“Y/N!! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, DON’T EVER DO THAT AGAIN!” She’s sobbing her eyes out as you pat her on the back, not remembering anything or how you got where you are. The last thing you remember is asking Jungkook if he wanted to catch fireflies with you, and now you’re surrounded as you sit on the couch in confusion.

“What happened?” You croak, your throat sore as if you’d been screaming for hours.

“I bit you.” Jungkook speaks up, taking everyone by surprise with his forwardness. You gently push Ga-In away so you can see Jungkook, kneeling by the couch.

“What?”

“Last night, I bit you.” He says again, his eyes never leaving yours.

Jin immediately stands up and takes Tae and Ga-In, gently pulling them out of the room so the two of you can talk.

Your mind is racing, not having a single clue as to what he’s talking about. “W-what do you mean you bit me?”

“I don’t know how it happened.” Jungkook swallows thickly, “I suddenly couldn’t control myself. Then I left, because I was terrified…If it wasn’t for Jin hyung and the others, you’d probably be dead right now. I’m sorry.”

You look down and see Jungkook’s hands trembling. Your heart aches at the sight and you reach out to touch his shaking hands. At this point, you aren’t sure which one of you you’re trying to comfort.

Then it all comes rushing back to you.

Jungkook getting angry and pinning you to the wall, then biting you.

Your throat closes as you watch him struggle to contain his tears. “You came back.” You whisper, making him lift his head.

“Why did you come back?”

You watch him closely, wanting an honest answer. Jungkook wipes his eyes and takes your hand in his, “I’m sorry I left. It’s no excuse, but I was so scared…I couldn’t believe what I’d done, I still can’t believe it. I don’t want anything to do with myself anymore. I don’t know what happened to me, but I realized that no matter what, I couldn’t leave you. I love you.”

You smile weakly, a small tear slipping down your cheek. “Are you okay, Jungkook?”

“I hurt you, y/n! It’s a miracle that you’re not dead or turned right now! And you’re wondering if I’m okay?” Jungkook stutters in disbelief. You frown, other than a small headache and feeling weak, you’re fine.

“I’m okay-“

“Stop, y/n. Just let yourself be not okay!” Jungkook cries in frustration. “Please! Hit me, kick me, do something! I’m a piece of shit for hurting you, and you just say you’re okay! Please don’t push your feelings away anymore.”

Jungkook’s desperate words hit something in you and you finally start to cry. The fear from last night comes out in body wracking sobs as you try to catch your breath.

“I- I was so scared.” You whimper, stuffing your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking from the overwhelming emotions trying to escape you.

You hold your arms out and Jungkook pushes himself into your hold, wrapping his arms around you tightly. He tucks his face into the crook of your neck and rocks you side to side gently. “I know, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

You cry into Jungkook’s shoulder for the next ten minutes, then you start to hiccup when your tears slow down. “P-please don’t hate yourself, Kookie.” You whisper brokenly. Jungkook bites his lip as you continue.

“It wasn’t you. The second you believe it was you, you’ll backtrack even more. I know you would never hurt me, Kookie.”

“I did, though.” He whispers.

“That wasn’t you. My beautiful Kook would never hurt me.” You pull back and smile at him tearfully, wiping his eyes. Jungkook sighs shakily, “Y/n, I need you to promise me something.” You keep your eyes on him, listening intently.

“You need to promise me that if I ever do something like that again, you’ll leave. You are worth more than you think you are, and I want you to see that. You don’t deserve to be treated horribly, even if you believe you do. You’re an amazing girl, and I love you. But that’s why I need you to promise that you’ll take care of yourself.” Jungkook says, looking into your eyes desperately, “If I ever lay a hand on you again, you leave.”

You nod slowly, finally understanding what he means. “Ok, I promise.”

“There are people in this world that will take advantage of your kindness, and you can’t let them do that. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, but I swear if I feel like I might change again, I’ll leave. You’re worth more than that.” Jungkook presses his forehead to yours, breathing heavily, his mind racing with relief that you’re okay, and that you’ve finally promised to not let anyone walk all over you.

You pull away after a second when you realize something.

Something you should have noticed by now.

“Jungkook…”

His eyes are a dark red, like when he starts going crazy and blood hungry. But he’s being himself…that means…

…you’re too late.

“You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” You ask quietly, another tear escaping. Jungkook shakes his head, “I won’t leave until I have to. You’re stuck with me, for now.” He gives you a weak smile, no doubt hiding his fear that he’s almost gone.

“I wanna be stuck with you forever.” You frown, letting him give you a quick kiss on the forehead. You will not cry again. You don’t want to upset him even more.

But it hurts so bad.

Jungkook calls the others in to see you, after they had been working their asses off all night to save you, and they hadn’t gotten to talk with you yet.

Ga-In won’t let go of you, sitting next to you and holding you in her arms while Tae gushes about how strong you were until Jin has to make the boy sit down and take a deep breath. You thank all of them until you’re out of breath, knowing you have them to thank for you being here.

They let Honey come in, and you pull her into your lap, cuddling her close. She pulls back and moves your hair to see the bandage on your neck. Then, she leans forward and gives it a little kiss, whispering, “I kissed it better.” Your heart melts and you hug her again, not noticing the way Jungkook watches you from the side of the room, a sad smile on his face.

When Jin ushers everyone out so you can get some rest while they whip up some food for you, you find yourself with just Jungkook once again. He has you lie down on the couch and he sits on the couch by your waist, playing with your hair.

Jungkook twirls your hair around his finger and gently brushes it out, trying to help you relax. You watch him sadly, noting the way he avoids your eyes, his own swimming with suppressed pain.

“Kookie.”

“Mm?”

“Please look at me?” You ask softly.

Jungkook turns his gaze from your hair up to your eyes, his dark red eyes shining with unfallen tears. “Yes?” He swallows the choked sob that almost slips out. You reach up and stroke his cheek with your thumb, “I’m alright, Kook.”

He nods, one little tear slipping out. You brush it away gently, “I hate it when you cry. But if it makes you feel better, please cry all you want.”

A broken sob leaves his throat.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, there isn’t any way for me to show you.” Jungkook cries quietly, his mind bombarding him again and the guilt overwhelming him. “I’m so fucking relieved that you’re okay. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had lost you.”

“You didn’t lose me. You’ll never lose me, Kook.” You coo and continue to wipe his tears.

“I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry.” Jungkook leans down and buries his face into your shoulder, letting his tears fall. They tickle your neck as they drip onto it and slide down, hurting your heart even more. You wrap your arms around him and cradle his head, running your fingers through his hair to calm him.

His whimpers eventually fade away as he breathes deeply, inhaling your scent and calming himself. “I love you, Kookie…you know that.” He nods at your words, his head still tucked in your neck.

You can feel Jungkook’s body shaking, his emotions on overdrive after almost losing you. “Hey.” You tap his head until he lifts his tear-stained face to look at you.

“Tell me what’s going on in your head.” You whisper.

“I don’t know how to fix this.” His quiet voice is laced with thick tears and sorrow. You hum and pull him closer so you can kiss him on the forehead, your lips lingering there for a moment before pulling away.

“There.” You whisper with a smile. “I kissed it better.”

Jungkook finally gives you a small smile, letting your heart lift.

~ ~ ~

“I told you you’d turn back.”

Namjoon turns from inspecting himself closely in the mirror to see Jungkook leaning against the bathroom doorway, his arms crossed as he gives his older brother a small smile.

“Kook, hi.” Namjoon fidgets a little, guilt creeping into his mind even though he has no idea how he’s turned back into a human.

“You look good.” Jungkook says, still smiling.

“Oh, t-thanks.” Namjoon laughs nervously. “I honestly have no idea what happened. I wasn’t feeling well before I went to bed last night. When I woke up, I was like this.”

“Weird.” Jungkook muses, but he has an idea of what might have caused it. “Maybe you should ask Seokjin hyung about it.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

Jungkook nods and moves to leave, but a hand on his arm stops him.

“Hey, uh-“

He turns back to Namjoon, “Yeah?”

“Don’t-…this just-“

“It’s okay, hyung. I’m happy for you, and I understand.” Jungkook reassures him, then he turns to go back and check on you.

Namjoon watches him go, a sad smile on his face as he contemplates on how to help the youngest.

~ ~ ~

“Hey you.” Jungkook smiles at you from the entrance to the living room. You look up from your bowl of soup as he walks over to you. A huge smile spreads across your face at the sight of him, and you set your soup down on your lap carefully.

“Hey, Kookie.”

The smile on your face and the happy gleam in your eye makes his chest ache. He hates himself for what he did to you, and the fact that you aren’t even upset with him makes him hate himself even more.

It all seems like a horrible nightmare. The events of the night before don’t feel real to anyone in the house, the only evidence that it even happened is the bandage on your neck; and the sight of it makes Jungkook sick to his stomach, knowing he caused the damage underneath.

So far, you haven’t had any problems other than a small headache that went away after Jin gave you some medicine, and some weakness in your arms and legs.

Seokjin, Jungkook, and the girls have all been monitoring you closely the entire day; making sure that you’re eating and that no other symptoms come up. Ga-In, Tae, and Jin all question their sanity a few times after seeing your red eyes last night, then seeing it completely disappear when you woke up, as if nothing ever happened.

Taehyung had told the others what Sooyoung said, and everyone would have taken that as what happened because maybe Jungkook didn’t have you that long, but your momentary scarlet eyes make that hard to believe.

None of them told anyone else about them though, figuring that Jungkook would have a panic attack and the others wouldn’t know what to make of it anyway. Jin ended up telling you, but you didn’t have much to say on it.

All you know, is that you feel fine.

When Ga-In asked if you could hear them when they were talking to you, you told her about the weird vision you had while you were out, and how Jungkook had been the only one you could hear in the darkness.

“How’s the soup?” Jungkook asks sweetly, sitting on the chair next to the couch. He hasn’t had any changes since Namjoon and him spoke last night, the dark cloud hopefully staying clear for now.

“It’s good! I wish you could try it.” You look down at the bowl sadly.

Jungkook reaches over and bops your nose, smiling at you cutely as he laughs, “More for you.” Your heart clenches seeing his old smile back again. The days before, with his on and off behavior were really starting to weigh on you. Jungkook biting you was something you never imagined happening, but you know he didn’t have control over himself.

He’s trying his best, but it’s consuming him, you can tell.

“When can we catch fireflies?” You ask as you spoon another bite of soup into your mouth. Jungkook tries to keep from giggling at how cute you are as he moves a strand of hair out of your face. “The second you feel better. I promise.”

It turns out that would be the next day.

When you wake up the next morning, you rub your eyes, squinting tiredly at the sun slipping through the curtains. Jungkook is right by your side when you turn your head, sitting in the chair and reading a book. He doesn’t notice that you’re awake until you reach over and poke his thigh, making him jump.

Jungkook looks over at you and immediately closes his book, setting it on the ground and scooting closer to you, “Good morning.” He whispers, “How did you sleep?”

You fight the urge to cover your puffy morning eyes, moving your messy hair out of your face as he helps you to a sitting position. “I slept okay, I forgot I was on the couch.” You giggle sleepily and Jungkook’s eyes light up at the sound.

“I feel really good.” You say before yawning, “I don’t feel bad at all, actually.”

Relief swarms Jungkook’s entire body, washing over him in waves. He sighs and pets your head, “I’m glad. Are you hungry?”

“Always!” You laugh.

~ ~ ~

You never knew how much you took sitting down at the table and eating with everyone for granted, until now.

To be with everyone this morning is such a relief, and you feel a lot better just from the sight of you all together.

“We missed you kiddo, glad you’re okay.” Yoongi ruffles your hair after everyone else greets you with hugs, taking you by surprise with his affectionate gesture. He really is a softie.

You also never knew what good hugs Namjoon gave until today. He’s a human again, and you can’t wait to hear how it happened, when he’s ready to share it. When he hugs you tightly, you instantly feel comforted and safe, bringing a big smile to your face.

Jin makes your favorite breakfast in honor of you recovering.

No one has said anything about what happened, and you’re grateful, but Jungkook still avoids interactions with most of them, apart from you. You know he’s afraid that they’ll look at him differently, but you’re sure they understand that Jungkook would never intentionally hurt you. It’s going to take Jungkook a while to recover though, probably a lot longer than you.

After breakfast, you insist that you feel well enough to get outside for some fresh air, so you and Jungkook take a walk in the shady part of the forest, stopping every once in a while to pick flowers.

Jungkook never lets go of your hand the entire time, keeping you as close as he can. You wish you could let him know that everything is alright, and you aren’t upset with him, and you’re not scared of him either. But he still seems like he’s beating himself up constantly. The way he looks at you like he’s afraid you’ll break at any second, makes your heart hurt.

But you don’t know how to help him see that it’s okay.

When you get home, Jungkook has you sit on the couch as he pulls out Jin’s first aid kit. “Jin hyung said we need to change your bandage today.” He says a little nervously. You nod and give him a smile, “Do you want someone else to do it, Kookie?” You ask just in case.

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, “It’s fine, I can do it. As long as you’re okay with it?” The hurt deep in his gaze that hasn’t left since the other night makes your throat close, but you nod and push your hair out of the way before you can cry.

“I’ll be gentle, please tell me if it hurts.” Jungkook says anxiously as he ever so gently removes the bandage. The sight of the two puncture wounds makes him close his eyes and breathe deeply. When he gathers himself, he makes quick work of cleaning the wound and bandaging it up again, only relaxing when he’s done.

“There you go.” He swallows and moves back to see you grinning.

“Thanks, Nurse Kookie!” You giggle.

He can’t believe that you don’t despise him right now, instead, you’re trying your best to make him feel better, when he should be the one bending over backwards for you.

He smiles at you sadly, “I don’t deserve you, y/n.”

You wave your hand in the air and brush off his words, “Stop saying nonsense. Most people don’t deserve the things they get. But you? You deserve the world, Kookie. I’m nothing compared to what you deserve-”

Jungkook shuts you up with a quick kiss, “Shush, or we’re going to get into an argument about who deserves what.”

“How about we just say we’re not perfect, but we’re perfect for each other?” You say, poking his cheek before pecking his lips.

Jungkook shakes his head and chuckles, “You’re lucky I love you, because that was terribly cheesy, and I might just gag.”

“Shut up, jerk.” You pull away, pretending to pout.

Jungkook grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks and pulling you close enough to kiss you three times, “I’m sorry.” He pouts at you until you smile again.

The color of his eyes might be proving that it’s getting worse, but the way he’s acting still gives you hope.

Your Jungkook is still in there.

~ ~ ~

“I know by now I sound like a broken record-…” Yoongi sighs as he takes a bite of mashed potatoes. “But I have some news.”

“Is it good or bad?” Jin asks, cutting up Honey’s meat into bite sized pieces, then handing the plate to Hoseok, who places it in front of the tiny girl sitting beside him. A stack of books is on her adult sized chair and she’s sitting on them to be able to reach the table. The sight is truly heart melting.

“Neutral.” Yoongi states simply.

“Alright, let us have it.” The eldest says confidently, so tired of everything at this point that he doesn’t even care anymore.

“Remember we said that we were meeting the Hunters in three weeks before we infiltrated the vampire camp? Well, we’re supposed to meet them next week.”

A silence falls over the room, but you can’t tell if it’s an excited silence, or a stressed one. Jin is the first to speak up.

“Ok well, that’s not bad news. We’ll meet with them and figure things out from there.” Jin takes another bite, chewing and swallowing before speaking again, “I know I for one, am ready to be done with this.” Everyone nods, then Sooyoung speaks up quietly.

“So, um…” Her small voice fades away, then you notice Jin looking at her kindly, nodding for her to continue. “Do you guys, uh…know if the vampires are only here, or…?”

Namjoon answers her immediately, “We aren’t sure if there are more anywhere else in the world, but we do know that there are only a few groups in South Korea. The Hunters have spent months tracking them all, and they told us they estimated about four hundred real vampires in Korea. That isn’t counting the people they turn.”

You chew slowly, the food becoming a bit harder to swallow. Four hundred isn’t too many, but it isn’t a small number either, especially it being an estimate. Jungkook’s hand slips under the table, grasping yours and giving it a quick reassuring squeeze. You send him a smile, your heart aching when he scrunches his nose cutely at you.

After dinner- which had a lot of talk that you didn’t understand so you eventually stopped paying attention to- you and Jungkook are in the backyard. Jungkook watches you, your eyes shining as you chase fireflies and try to catch them. “Over there, y/n!” Jungkook calls out to you, pointing to a few fireflies buzzing around lazily.

You hurry over and hold the jar Jin gave you out, trying to snag one. You miss by a long shot, a pout forming on your face as Jungkook chuckles. “It’s okay, love. Come here.” He gestures for you to go to him, so you trudge back, a frown still on your face.

Jungkook cuddles you into his side before laying you both on the ground, then he points up; a few fireflies fly above your heads, and a million stars shine in the dark sky. “Ohh.” You look at all the shining lights in awe, your eyes widening considerably. Then you feel a gentle kiss on your cheek, and you turn to see Jungkook smiling at you so wide that his eyes are all squinted up cutely.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, causing your cheeks to burn and turn crimson. “No, I’m not.” You mumble and turn away. Jungkook tuts and takes your chin to pull you to look at him. “Stop being so mean to yourself.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, it’s just an automatic thing, to not-…like me.” You mutter, not really wanting to get into it right now. You turn back to the sky, and Jungkook can tell the conversation is done. He sighs quietly and brushes his fingers through your hair. “You still need to read Beauty and the Beast to me, little flower.” Jungkook says in your ear quietly.

A little chill goes down your spine from the proximity, and you nod, a smile coming onto your face again. “Should I start when we go back in?”

“Please do. I’m dying for you to read to me.” Jungkook nuzzles his nose into your hair, breathing in your scent. “I could listen to you talk all day.”

“Eww, now who’s being cheesy?” You poke at him while you giggle. Jungkook groans, “Give me a break, I’m new at this.”

“So am I!”

You two start giggling like a couple of school kids, then Jungkook sighs and pulls you even closer. “You’re going to kill me, I think I love you too much.”

“You’re so dramatic.” You roll your eyes playfully, but inside, your heart and stomach feel like they’ve been swept up by a tornado.

You watch the stars for a little while longer, both of you trying to pick out different constellations and make up your own. When your eyes start to droop from exhaustion, Jungkook holds your smaller hand in his and kisses it gently as you whisper sleepily.

“We’ll be together forever, won’t we Koo?”

He bites his bottom lip hard, almost hard enough to draw blood. He wants nothing more than to be able to fulfill that promise, but he doesn’t know if he can. His time is running out, and he doesn’t know how to stop it…

But Jungkook nods anyway, brushing his thumb over your knuckles gently.

“Forever.”

____________________________________

a/n: i mean at this point, why do I bother having a 'schedule' ? I hope y'all like this one tho ;-;

Tag list: @jjungkook99 @ditttiii @rubinora @mygukandonly @xxxanimangxxx @elliegrace1999tvd @howbizarre @your-best-behaviour @krystle1990 @karissassirak @hopeworld-baseline @lettersforjoon @squidyelmosquidbutt @jeonjungkookismyfuture @nikikookie @adelina1299 @fekitza

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multsicorn · 4 years

Text

multsicorn’s infinite fic playlist

some friends in a chat were talking about comfort fic! so I have Made A List. Ten of my very favorite fics to reread when I need a boost, in ten different fandoms. In no order. And with no particular theme, that I can tell. They’re probably all more-or-less mostly self-contained enough to work even if you don’t know the canon? Certainly the Hockey RPF fic is (cause I don’t know anything about the canon there!), and who doesn’t know HP, etc....

.... four are about fucked-up families, (cause I find that cathartic, and people dealing with it comforting), two are polyfic, (because more relationships interacting to me means ~more love~), three are really mostly about the ~feel~ of the universe, (the fun mundanity of a not-quite-mundane canon universe! or of a perfectly balanced space au), and then the last one is... about how to know if you’re in love on one side of it, and about how to get over it on the other (because how does one romance).

the ones about fucked-up families:

When The Lights Go Out, Will You Take Me With You? by narceus (Glee, Kurt/Blaine, m, ~11k). I love the way that it punches out my heart and then puts it back together? Lmao, that’s very personal. But I love the way that - what can I say. This isn’t a fic about romance, it’s a fic about family - well. How sometimes your family is your boyfriend, and your mutual friends, how sometimes ‘family’ is something you have to leave, and real family is something you build. ‘This is exactly what it’s like,’ and it’s wish-fulfillment, and, yes, somehow it’s both of those things.

You can run away with me any time you want.

Come Marching Home by ossapher (American Revolution RPF/Hamilton, Hamilton/Laurens, t, ~9k). Fraught relationships with family members who think they love you but they really really don’t are my jam, and the way that this fic deals with a younger still-dependent sibling who’s caught in the middle between John and his horrible father is especially my jam. Also, fics that transform a complicated set of characters/relationships/etc. from canon to a completely other setting thoughtfully, which this fic ‘verse has a lot of fun with.

John Laurens attempts to reconcile with his U.S. Senator dad after years of minimal contact. It's family, though, so nothing goes as planned.

Theft of Assets, Destruction of Property by Helenish (Harry Potter, Draco/Neville, e, ~23k). I love the way that Draco here builds a life up out of nothing. It’s very cozy from one angle, full of cooking and baking and making a house a home, but it also goes hard on the way that abused children will internalize their situation as the expected baseline of life, which I appreciate very much.

Surely it is a mistake to allow a single youthful indiscretion to cloud an already promising career.

A Month of Sundays by Kelfin (Hockey RPF, Erik Johnson/Gabriel Landeskog, m, ~69k). I love the push-pull of a relationship that naturally slides very quickly into something very close and intimate, that keeps being pulled back from that by Erik’s internalized homophobia. I love the way the story negotiates the very real knock-on effects of that on Gabe, his maybe-maybe-not partner, and the way the Erik negotiates ‘I love my family... but they don’t love me.’

Unlike some guys, who freak out when things get even a little bit gay, Erik is fine with this stuff. Erik's not even fazed when Gabe's attempts at flirting with him start to get semi-public, a fact that, by his own judgment, makes him at least five to seven times more tolerant than your average forward-thinking American.

the polyfics:

Everything That You Can Keep by Dira Sudis (dsudis) (Vorkosigan Saga, Aral/Jole, backgroundy Aral/Cordelia, e, ~30k). I love this story’s negotiation of not just polyamory (and I love negotiation of polyamory stories - how two people in one relationship share feelings about yet another person, and figure things out? yes, please), but specifically of all the added complications that come out in the highly hierarchical, secretive, and loyalty-based Vor society. When even asking about asking is a matter of trust, requested and given? That goes straight to my id.

The impossible takes a little more time, a lot of negotiation.

Love: The Package Deal by jjtaylor (Bandom, Frank/Gerard/Lindsey/Jamia, m, ~30k). I love the way that the different relationships are layered over and relate to each other - that’s one of the big things I like about polyfic - and the way that the amnesia smashes them together by bringing a past relationship to the present, while making the present one abstract and back to square one. I love how the amnesia in fact smashes together all the highs and lows of eventful years’ worth of Gerard’s life: artistic success, problems with drugs and addiction... they’re all right there waiting for you.

Gerard gets a special kind of amnesia. Frank gets to reexamine his idea of acceptable relationship structures. Lots of people fail to communicate effectively, but they all sure remember how to kiss.

the cozy weirdness of the universe:

it's a new craze by attheborder (Good Omens, Aziraphale/Crowley, t, ~6k). The development of the relationship strikes a nice balance between angst and sweetness, but what I really come back to this fic for is the fictional advice podcast! That Aziraphale and Crowley start together, which it’s about, and the way that they sprinkle their up-close experience of history into their discussion on it - and then the way that the fandom latches onto and tries to make sense of that. It is just, purely, A DELIGHT.

CROWLEY: I try not to make a habit of gratitude, but I must give our appreciation to everyone out there who’s been listening and subscribing to The Ineffable Plan. AZIRAPHALE: Ooh, yes, we’ve become quite popular, haven’t we? CROWLEY: Yeah, just hit number eight on the advice charts … No advertising at all. AZIRAPHALE: Mm. How … miraculous. CROWLEY: … Aziraphale. You did not.

***

Crowley and Aziraphale are very possibly the people least qualified, on the entire planet, to start up an advice podcast.

But what else is there to do when the world isn’t ending anytime soon, you’re technically on indefinite sabbatical from your lifelong careers, and you need a plausible excuse to spend more time with your best friend who you’re definitely not, absolutely not, maybe just a little, actually maybe overwhelmingly in love with?

A Resolution of Territory by arboretum (Hikaru no Go, Hikaru/Akira, e, ~10k). I just love imagining spending my life playing Go, okay! This fic is wonderfully immersive in a weird-but-good everyday reality, of spending your whole life immersed in a game that just fascinates you, alongside your friends - and your boyfriend, too, which is to say, the one person who shares your fascination in the most direct and deepest and mutually obsessive way. Eventually he’s your boyfriend, of course.

The point is, life is hectic, but it's good.

The Vastness of Space by shysweetthing (Yuri on Ice, Victor/Yuuri, e, ~17k). I love the way that the space setting here gives scope for best-friends-and-partners, for cute and amusing low-stakes shenanigans and then cleverly solved higher-stakes adventure. I love how sweet Victor and Yuuri are in caring for each other in dire circumstances, and why they both see each other as beyond their reach in the context of this imagined world.

As chief communications officer on board the Interstellar Alliance Fleet’s Star Ship Victory, Yuuri doesn’t have to think about who he actually is on his home planet. He just has to listen to his captain, do his job, and…not fall in love with his best friend, the ship’s science officer, Victor Nikiforov.

Well. Two out of three’s not bad.

Then his mother calls with the worst possible news: She, the Empress of New Nihon, has arranged Yuuri’s marriage. There’s only one thing Yuuri can do: Fake a boyfriend, and fake one fast. Who better/worse to play that role than the friend he wishes was more? What can go wrong? It’s not like Yuuri can fall more in love...

the how does romance (with my beloved controversial otp):

if you change your mind by leetlebird (Check, Please!, Jack/Parse, e, ~35k). I love the way this story shows Jack trying to work out what love means for him, anyway, and Kent learning to deal with and work around feelings that he thinks for most of the story are unrequited. And the cozy jury-rigged domesticity of especially the final chapters/scenes.

Beneath the table, Jack’s hand squeezes around Kent’s knee. And -- Kent forgets. For just a few seconds, he forgets that they can’t be together, that Jack doesn’t want him in that way, that he’s trying to move on.

“We’re friends, right?” Jack says.

“Yeah, Zimms,” he says. “We’re friends.”

Or: Kent and Jack are friends, then friends-with-benefits, then maybe something more. Kent isn’t sure.

#*#fic recs #anyway i spent enough time writing this post i hope someone likes it #but if not at least i got to Examine My Preferences? lol

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pendulum-sonata · 5 years

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Chapters: 2/7 Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Serena/Yuri (Yu-Gi-Oh) Characters: Serena (Yu-Gi-Oh), Yuri (Yu-Gi-Oh) Additional Tags: Drama & Romance, Forbidden Love, Tanabata, One Shot, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Predatorshipping Week 2019, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Belligerent Sexual Tension, First Meetings, Predator/Prey Summary:

This is were i will post all the prompts from the Predatorshipping week of this year: Day 1: Celestial Day 2: Tower Day 3: Gallantry Day 4: Supernatural Day 5: Wicked Day 6: Garden Day 7: First

When the glow disappeared, he was back in the Academy’s grounds, it was also night here so there was no one around.

The Professor’s instructions of course, since it would not do them any favors if it got out that half of the reason they were at war was because of the slip of a girl that he was currently carrying over his shoulder.

Everything in due time, the old man always said.

There were a couple of Obelisk Force soldiers ready to receive her and although it looked like they wanted to complain when they noticed the carelessness which he handed her to them – practically tossed her into the nearest person arms. – Yuri knew they wouldn’t say a word as long as she was unharmed.

After all the Professor never said anything about non-physical wounds.

He briefly watched them heading over to the Western Tower where she already had her cozy prison ready for her before turning his back. Not like he knew (or cared) if the coziness part It was actually true or not.

Yuri considered for a little while if he should sneak into it, only to see her dawning horror when she woke up; but he discarded the idea immediately, he had already seen plenty of that when he dueled her, and it had barely been any fun.

Gazing at the empty North and Eastern towers sighing, he hoped that the Standard and Synchro pieces would provide better entertainment.

The moment he saw the Obelisk Force coming out of the tower empty-handed it was his cue to leave.

“Finally.” He said to no one in ´particular, a bad habit product of spending too much time with himself and his dragon.

Whenever it felt like talking anyway.

As he made his way, he thought he saw a group of guards leaving their post on the South Tower; which was not weird in itself, after all it was time for the night shift to begin already, but he found himself fixing his eyes on them.

Two units, meaning six soldiers as usual, all walking in complete synch, their shoulders squared and firm steps, but… Something was off.

He waited for them to pass next to him, he allowed himself to smile, wide and showing his teeth and made eye contact with each one of them, taking a small pleasure into seeing someone who almost doubled him in height – the captain – freeze the slightest of fraction of a second and averting to look directly at him.

They all followed suit, one of them almost messed their perfect step by stumbling…

“Halt.” He said, the captain gulped loudly and stopped, saluting him as it was proper of someone of his station.

Yuri almost laughed when he saw his hand trembling.

“Sir?” How hard it was for the man to keep his voice steady? He almost wanted to tease him further.

“Oh, nothing, not with you anyway.” He started looking over the other guards. “Why would I acknowledge someone who can’t do their job?” His eyes stopped on the second to last one of the formation. “Don’t you agree?”

If this ‘guard’ had been paying attention, they should have at least attempted to look scared, or flinched showing that they know who he was.

Then they would have known that the worst they could have done was running away.

Everyone knew you don’t run away from a predator.

Yuri laughed, rich and content, the excitement running down his spine was enough to shake off his tiredness; while the rest of the guard all took too long to realize just what had happened and then attempting to communicate with the front security, he was already catching up with the little fugitive.

They were fast, he would give them that much, but Yuri knew the Academy grounds like the palm of his hand, there was no place where anyone could hide from him, that’s why he was the Professor left hand, that’s why he had been acknowledged above all the pitiful sea of soldiers.

He jumped ahead of his prey and hid behind a poor lit column, whereas they kept running on the path illuminated by the full moon, showing that they weren’t all that familiar with it.

Yuri’s heartbeat rose with each second passing, listening to the nearing stomps and calculating the exact moment when he dashed into their intended way, forcing them to stumble with him and losing footing.

They recovered a little faster than he thought and Yuri barely caught a punch directed at his jaw with his fist barely in time to catch how they lifted their leg, intent on a second attack and he grabbed them harshly against forcing them to lose their momentum.

Both of them were breathing in sharp intakes as a result, Yuri kept his hold on them, noticing that their body was still taut and ready to launch another attack if he gave them the chance.

They were not scared of him at all, and the thought filled him with such glee that he felt his entire body tingle.

He had not even noticed them when a good number of Obelisk Force soldiers surrounded them both.

“Lady Serena!” Yuri felt his eyes widen when he heard that name. “You will come with us now!” He could feel her writhing in his hold which had slacked because of the surprise, when she slapped his hands away, he was quick to grab the stupid mask and pulled until it gave into his hand, and he watched the long cascade of dark blue hair fell onto her shoulders.

The guards were smart enough to hold her down at that moment, impeding any other movement from her.

When her eyes – a shade of green that he had only seen in the forest – fixed a monumental glare on him; he lost his breath.

There was nothing but pure loathing in those eyes, a fire blazing and promising to burn him down, and he felt that strange and old hunger he hadn’t felt since he was younger arise in the pit of his stomach again.

And he wanted all of it: her disgust, her anger, her passion…

Yuri walked towards her with slow steps, his eyes raking her entire form, not wanting to forget the slightest part.

When he was at an arm length of her – trashing in between the hold two soldiers had of her arms – his tongue felt tied, not for not knowing what to say, but for too many words stumbling to come out.

“…How?” Even her voice was dripping with disgust and he faltered as he drank in it. “…how did you knew?”

Should he answer her? In front of everyone else’s prying eyes? No doubt that they would report this incident to the Professor.

But looking into her eyes, he realized that maybe there was a reason why the Professor didn’t want him around her.

There was little he could deny her.

“Because you were not scared of me.”

#arc v #yugioh arc v #predatorshipping #my fics #last time I forgot to put the fic under read more >.>#sorry lol

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grimoire-plague-blog · 5 years

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Welcome Home

My original characters Yuri Volkov (a Russian-American Video Game Developer) and his girlfriend Elle (African-American Interior Designer).

The setting sun cast a warm glow through the apartment window, the city lights sparkling. A hearty chuckle echoed through the hall as slender fingers pulled the laptop closed and picked up the cell phone.

“Relax, Elle. I have a cold, not the plague,” came the voice of Yuri Volkov, rich and normally smooth like honey, with hoarseness slowly taking hold. Clearing his throat, a soft sniffle hinted at the congestion creeping in. “You’ll be back by morning, right? I won’t die before you get back.”

“Alright, alright. I get it. You’re okay,” Elle murmured into her cell phone as she tucked a handful of her hair behind her ear, the tight black coils angry with her for sleeping in such a strange position on the plane. “I should get home around five, yeah. I’ll see you then. Get some sleep, deal?”

“Mhm, deal. No speeding on your way back. I know you get impatient. Don’t be quiet coming in though, if I’m not up when you get back you’d better wake me,” He requested, sniffling again as he turned away from the speaker to cough quietly into his elbow.

“If I don’t, you’ll sing that obnoxious song all day like last time. I’ll wake you up if only for the sake of my sanity,” She retorted, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’m at baggage claim now, have to get the suitcase and get going. I love you.”

“Aw, you don’t want me to serenade you? Oh well. I love you too, cupcake.”

He heard the chuckle escape her before he hung up, tucking his phone into his pocket before refilling his dog’s water bowl. Elle, meanwhile, had tugged her suitcase free from the disastrous pile-up forming at the baggage claim and embarked on her journey to the car. Her darling Yuri, the only person who could ever call her cupcake without making her gag, had such a tendency to downplay it when he wasn’t feeling his best which meant just a cold could very well be just that… or much worse. A pain in her butt it may be, trying to discern whether he was being honest or not, but he did equally tedious things for her sake as well. The rolling suitcase couldn’t roll fast enough, not with how excited she was to see him. Being away for two weeks on business meant that she’d not only missed him but had been bored out of her skull with her co-workers. Meetings this and meetings that… she was lucky she had the next few days off so that they could recuperate together. Him from his cold, her from jet lag.

That morning, at exactly five, she turned the key and opened the door to the apartment they shared in Portland, Oregon. Suitcase against the wall, she slipped her shoes off and shut the door quietly. Dark brown eyes, like the soil after spring rains, settled on the vaguely human shape decorating the couch. A soft smile on her face, her lips parting slightly as she took a slow breath in, Elle crept closer. Yuri was asleep, tangled in a blanket, with his dog curled up on his stomach. As Elle approached, the basset hound sleepily raised her head to greet her. With droopy eyes and one long ear flopped over the wrong way, tail thumping gently against the back of the couch, waddled haphazardly over to the edge to place her front paws against Elle. Giving the dog a loving scratch behind the ear, she picked her up and gently placed her in the dog bed.

“Good girl, Lada. Sorry. I have to wake up your dad,” She teased as the basset hound promptly went back to sleep. It was fortunate. Lada only listened to Elle about half of the time, mostly because Yuri had trained his dog to respond to Russian and not English, which had resulted in many interesting situations at first.

Creeping back over to her sleeping partner, Elle crawled on top of the couch and straddled him. She was careful not to wake him, not just yet, as she studied him. The shadows beneath his eyes, from the way they were set, deepened by his illness and the pink that painted his cheeks and nose, tinged with red at the nostrils that had clearly been suffering for the past twenty-four hours or so. The parted lips that quiet breaths slipped from, in time with the rising and falling of his chest… her fingertips delicately brushed aside the soft waves of wheat-colored hair that had cast a shadow across his face as she leaned closed and pressed her lips to his. But the kiss was stolen away from her, no longer under her control, the moment she felt his warm hand cup her cheek. She felt his teeth, ever so gently, nip at her lips playfully before their lips parted and he gazed into her eyes.

His throat burned, a sort of dull sensation, and he while he desperately wished he could smell that flowery perfume he knew she was wearing (she wore it every day, it was her favorite scent) it had become painfully clear to him that he was no longer capable of breathing through his nose. Slowly removing his hand from her cheek, he pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. Rheumy eyes, although the same beautiful blue-green that Elle adored and filled with glee at the sight of her, were met with her mixture of concern and joy. He hesitated, turning away as his breath hitched and his eyelids fluttered… but the sneeze that tickled his nose turned into a yawn. He heard Elle’s laughter, saw the movement of her hand as she tied up the hair she had worked so hard to grow out into a thick bun, and felt the back of her hand against his forehead.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, her hand turning as she ran her fingertips gently down his face and traced them along his jaw as she heard him sniffle, very much in vain, while contemplating the question.

He felt awful if he was to tell her the truth. His throat was sore, scratchy, and it burned. His nose, thick with mucus, allowed little to no oxygen to him. It left a throbbing in his skull, a pressure not intense enough to cause him much distress but instead the perfect amount to irritate him endlessly. As a result, it had taken him quite a while to fall asleep… but seeing his darling Elle lifted his spirits in spite of it all. Taking her hand away from his face, he wiggled out from underneath her and picked her up. After all, she was rather small. A mere five feet. Had he been about three inches taller, he would have had a foot in height difference. She let out what had to be the world’s quietest, and arguably cutest, shriek in response to having him lift her from the couch, wrapping her arms around his neck without protest as he carried her to their bedroom. He set her down on the bed, then sat next to her with a smile. Then, suddenly and desperately tugging a tissue free from the box on the nightstand, his head tipped back slightly and his mouth open… eyes squeezed shut in anticipation as his reddened nostrils flared, he sneezed. Loud, and rather forceful as his head snapped forward, he followed up the sneeze with a futile blow of his nose. It did nothing to combat the congestion he felt, nothing to alleviate the pressure in his skull - in fact, it made his throbbing head feel worse - but it did serve one purpose. It completely decimated the tissue. That answered Elle’s question for him, although he still tossed the tissue into the wastebasket and grinned at her as if he were a child in a candy store.

“Cupcake, I’m alright. I’ll be better if you get your pajamas on and come to bed with me. Just a few hours. A little nap,” He requested, speaking through his congestion. He would have laughed if it weren’t for how miserable he felt, how horrid he knew he sounded, but he simply didn’t find it funny at the moment. He wouldn’t, couldn’t really, bring himself to be fully content with the situation. He was ecstatic that Elle had returned home and yet… so disappointed that he had caught a cold. Determined to make the most of it, that he certainly was, but unable to be wholeheartedly happy.

Watching her stand up and go over to the closet, let her clothes drop to the floor before slipping into one of his t-shirts, one she knew he never wore outside of the house, and sit back down beside him helped. He felt her hands against his shoulders as she pulled him down, doing her best to curl around him despite the size difference. When he was sick, she always tried to be the big spoon. Her hands on his back, rubbing in small circles as a series of wet coughs sent little spasms through his body. He grabbed a tissue, spit out what he had coughed up, and threw it away with a muffled groan, burying his face in his pillow.

“Aw, baby, I’m sorry,” She murmured, planting a kiss on his neck. “I love you. If you need anything… wake me up.”

She got nothing but a nod and a congested sneeze in response as Yuri grabbed her hand and closed his eyes, the glass of water he had gotten the first time he had tried to sleep still standing beside the Tylenol but sans ice cubes now that time had passed. The Tylenol, however, had failed to do any noticeable good. She barely heard his hoarsely whispered declaration of love before his breathing slowed and the stuffy-nosed little snores began.

Yuri woke up that afternoon to a series of strange noises. It was somewhere between the sounds of a whimpering puppy and high-pitched squeals of “ow” and “oh” repeated over and over again in such quick succession that it almost sounded like “uwu” and LSD had a love affair. His mind felt foggy and heavy. It took him a moment to react to the noise, to stand up and follow the sound out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. There, curled into a ball on the tile floor, was Elle. On the counter sat a box of pasta, half empty. There was a large pot perched upon the back burner of the stove. Things that to anyone else would not have seemed suspicious seemed to Yuri… rather dangerous.

“E-” He started, his voice coming out as nothing more than a painful croak. He paused, clearing his throat irritably before restarting the thought. “Elle, why are you on the floor?”

“You’ll laugh at me,” She whined, staring up at him with an innocent pout. But she got up when he started coughing. Harsh, chesty coughs that made his eyes water and her heart sink. Pouring him a glass of water, she sighed softly. “Here, drink.”

“I won’t laugh at you… even if it’s funny, I don’t want to laugh. Hurts,” He teased half-heartedly, taking a sip of the water with a smile. The faint freckles that usually dotted his porcelain skin, across the bridge of his nose and splashed along his cheeks, had vanished beneath the feverish flush his skin now held. “Why were you on the floor?”

“I… hit my elbow on the counter. I know, it’s pathetic but it really hurt and… Hey! You said you wouldn’t laugh!” She snapped, hands on her hips as Yuri stifled a snicker only for his amusement to slowly bubble over.

Laughing rather heartily, his entire face lighting up in response to her plight, he nearly doubled over in his fit of bubbly laughs and occasional snorts. Only to truly double over as the laughter turned into phlegmy coughs and wheezing gasps. He felt her hand on his arm as he straightened up, catching his breath with a smile, and rested his chin on her head.

“Sorry, cupcake. And what were you doing with the pasta?” He inquired, although he certainly had an idea as to what she may have been doing with it.

“I was trying to make you chicken noodle soup,” She admitted, watching him proceed to walk over to the pot and peer inside with a look of disgust, “Hey! I tried…”

“I appreciate the sentiment but that looks like Lada ate it and threw it back up several times, Elle. Leave the cooking to me un… until… I, ahhh…. Haaah… I can…” He paused, placing a finger under his nose as the need to sneeze crept up on him, desperately trying to talk through it in hopes that it would just go away. “Until I can… haa… t-t-tea… teach you,” He managed, but just barely, to finish his thought before a fit of sneezes took hold. Wet, congested, and loud. They left Yuri practically trembling, using a paper towel to blow his nose in a pathetic attempt to find relief only for the roughness of it to further irritate his nose and coax out another sneeze.

“Okay, okay… bless you… I just feel so useless. I can’t cook… you’re usually the one who cleans… and I’m not a doctor. But I know you feel terrible. Don’t even try to lie and say you don’t. Yuri, I… I want to help,” Elle insisted, turning off the burner and standing on the tips of her toes in order to reach his face and steal a kiss. “So, tell me how. Please?”

“First of all, cupcake, you aren’t useless. Yeah, you can’t cook. Sure, I usually clean. But you’re the only reason the herb garden on the balcony is alive. You’re the one who knows how to fix it when the sink is clogged or the power goes out,” Yuri reassured her, pulling her into a tight hug. “We can’t be good at everything. You’re good at the things I’m not. We’ll learn from each other. But don’t rush it. You are helping. But today we order takeout or something for lunch and cuddle on the couch. I finished looking over the proposal for the new game my team is developing so… I’m all yours until it the rest of them get back to me.”

She could hear the weak, incessant sniffles that dotted his speech and the irregular volume of his words as he tried to keep his throat clear. Her face, buried in his chest, was hidden. It was almost a relief to her, that he couldn’t see how happy she was to hear that she wasn’t useless. She had already taken Lada out for a walk that morning and had unpacked her suitcase while Yuri slept. She, too, was all his for the day. So she sat him down on the couch with a blanket draped around his shoulders, placed several items - a box of tissues, a glass of water, a wastebasket, and cough drops - beside the couch, and ordered a pizza. Resting his head on her shoulder once she sat down, Yuri sniffled and popped a cough drop into his mouth with a playful little smile.

“We are still going to the waterpark that you love so much next weekend, yes? It is just before that Fourth of July that Americans love so much and I hear they are putting on a fireworks show,” He pointed out, lacing his fingers with hers.

“Only if you’re over this cold by then. But leave it to you to get such a bad cold in the summer. You’re an unlucky guy sometimes,” She teased, kissing his forehead.

“I am a very lucky man, despite our current situation,” came his retort. And if the trip to her favorite waterpark went as planned, with the crowds distracted by the fireworks and him down on one knee with a ring in his hand, he would soon be the luckiest man there ever was.

#snzfic #snz #my fic #my ocs #yuri volkov #elle (volkov)#lada the dog #sickfic #illness

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thehobbem · 6 years

Text

Chases, escapes, true love & miracles Part VI

Watching the Man In Black unsheathe his sword with his left hand, Yuri decided to do the same: fighting with his left instead of his dominant hand would be good practice — God knows he did not have enough of it these days, and it would give the Man In Black a fair chance as well. After all, he had no equal when fighting with his right.

They touched swords and Yuri used the Salchow attack — a safe choice that the Man In Black parried using the Lutz technique. Smart, considering the sandy terrain around them, which did not favor a lot of moving around. Yuri pressed on. One, two, three, four, and the Man In Black sidestepped them all, easily and light on his feet. Elegantly, even, and Yuri felt a smile coming unbidden. Now that was what fencing was all about! It was all in the footwork and your wrist, but try telling that to those so-called masters that populated fencing centers. A lot of brawns in fencing these days, not a lot of brains, and certainly not grace.

Another well-placed Salchow had the Man In Black lose balance for a second; but where a lesser swordsman would have fallen down, the Man In Black simply touched the ground with one hand and regained his balance, not giving Yuri time to take advantage of his slip.

They moved along the edge of the Cliffs, with Yuri pressing forward and his opponent busying himself with defending, dodging, retreating until he had his back against a boulder, right where Yuri wanted him. There would be no using the Lutz in such close quarters, which technique would he use then?

But to his surprise, the Man In Black countered not with another defense, but by swiftly taking the attack from him — and if Yuri were a man of compliments, he would’ve showered the Man In Black in them; as it was, the only comment he made was,

“You’ve clearly studied your Axel, huh?” I’ve never seen the Axel so well executed was what he did not say.

“I have indeed,” said the man, casually launching another assault Yuri barely had time to dodge. “I find that extra half step to make all the difference, do you not?”

“True enough,” said Yuri, whose Axel could only wish to equal the Man In Black’s, if he were to be honest. He had never seen anything like it — and how was the man not tired?! They’d moved around the entire plateau a few times already, and maintaining such fast, graceful footwork on sand was a surefire way to exhaust even the great masters. And yet the Man In Black moved like a dancer on stage, never tiring and never relenting.

He just might be the better swordsman of the two of them.

As the Man In Black gained ground over Yuri at terrifying speed, Yuri rolled his eyes.

“Anything bothering you, young man?”

“Yeah, well,” he said, barely parrying another Axel, left foot dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, “I didn’t think I’d have to, but I guess I’m gonna switch to my better hand.”

And with that, his dedushka’s prized sword changed from left to right, and the direction of the battle reverted as quickly as the tide recedes from the shore.

A Salchow, three flips, move forward using the Mapes principle, another Salchow, and all the Man In Black could do was try to parry, to dodge, to sidestep, to avoid his adversary’s sword like the plague. But his speed and stamina could not help him now, not when a Plisetsky was fighting at his best.

An Axel both of them knew was slightly inferior to the Man In Black’s, and Yuri finally had him cornered against the boulders again.

“You should retire, you know,” he said, not even trying to hide his delight in finally having overpowered him. “There’s no place in this world for two swordsmen like us!”

“Your change of hand was really most unfortunate,” the man agreed, straining to keep Yuri’s blade at bay. “I didn’t think I’d have to, but I guess I’m also gonna switch to my better hand!”

Yuri’s eyes widened in time to see his opponent’s sword go to his right hand, and just like that, the tide turned again. The strength the Man In Black wielded with his left did not hold a candle to the one in his right, and not even Yuri could hope to match such a combination of strength, finesse and speed. An Axel, clearly a favorite of his, a Salchow (which, he noticed with passing glee, was not quite as good as Yuri’s), four toe loop steps and four flips before he struck with a combination of the Axel and the Salchow — a combination Yuri hardly ever dared to attempt himself executed flawlessly by the Man In Black.

The combination missed his face by a hair’s breadth before their blades clashed again.

After ten years spent doing nothing but studying the blade, Yuri found himself amazingly, impossibly bested. Not by much, it was true. But that small difference was there, and it was enough.

Not that he would ever concede defeat — and the battle might have gone on for longer than it did, if his sword hadn’t been sent flying from his hand after a particularly weak Lutz. Defeat through not the hands of his opponent, but by his own execution, flawed in the face of the impossible.

With no sword and nowhere to run or hide, Yuri stared down the end of the blade.

“If you’re gonna kill me, do it quickly,” he growled, eyes glued to the brown ones behind the black mask.

“As it turns out, I’m not in the business of killing either. But I wouldn’t put it past you to be in the business of following, and therefore—” and with that, the Man In Black grabbed him by the shirt and jerked him closer, and Yuri felt a fist connect to his stomach in no uncertain way, stealing all air from his lungs in one go.

What the— was his last thought before he lost consciousness.

<<Previous Next>>

<<From the beginning

(Updates on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays)

#yuri on ice #yoi fanfiction #princess bride au #yuri plisetsky #the Man In Black #writing fights is both difficult AND a lot of fun! ♥#thehob's ficlet

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yuriblackwoodtealeafgamgee · 6 years

Text

I was tagged by @basked-sunlight <3 If someone wanna do it than do it! <3

last

- drink: milk

- call: my mum

- text: mine in a group chat, about an animation series

- song u listened to: HeavyDirtySoul by twenty one pilots

- time u cried: Don’t remember very well, i tend to keep everything inside, but probably at night

have u ever

- dated someone twice: yes

- kissed someone & regretted it: no

- been cheated on: i don’t know, but i’m like 90% sure it happened

- lost someone special: to many times

- been depressed: like… everyday…

- gotten drunk & thrown up: nope

favorite colors

1. Black

2. Red

3. Blue, Purple, Emerald Green

in the last year have u

- made any new friends: yes <3

- fallen out of love: i don’t think so

- laughed so hard that u cried: yes ahahaha

- found out someone was talking abt u: no, but i will always think it, it’s like one of my biggest problems

- found out who ur friends were: if you mean who my true friends are, then yes

- kissed someone on ur fb friends list: on the cheek

general

- how many ppl from ur fb friends do u know irl: i think… 8? (i’m considering my fake profile)

- do u have any pets: 2 cats <3

- do u want to change ur name: no

- what did u do for ur birthday last year: resturant with 4 friends and pub

- what were u doing last night at midnight: watching La Casa de Papel

- what time did u wake up today: 10 am circa

- what is something u can’t wait for: graduate, see my friends again

- have u ever talked to a person named tom: no

- something that gets on ur nerves: close minded people, when someone talk me over, not being listened/considered, when people doesn’t recognize what I’m capable of and/or have a wrong idea about me

- most visited website: I use apps for sns, so… Netfix and other streaming web sites; GMail for university

- hair color: brown

- short hair or long hair: long

- do u have a crush on someone: to many crushes for too many people

- what do u like abt urself: my butt probably? aaand… my determination and imagination i guess…

- want any piercings: no, I mean i want others on my ears but just there

- blood type: A+

- nicknames: Yuri (fake FB) and… i don’t know sometimes people call me in other ways but rarely

- relationship status: got a boyfriend

- zodiac sign: capricorn

- pronouns: she/her

- fave tv shows: Bitch, there are so many! Ok, here’s the most loved by me: Versailles, Sense8, New Girl, Doctor Who, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, La Casa de Papel, Scrubs, Glee.

- tattoos: no and i’m currently not planning on having any

- right handed or left handed: right handed

- ever had surgery: no

- sport: dance since i was 3, but I’ve been very unlucky because of lot of things

- vacation: out of my country to discover the world, but also chilling with my friends somewhere calm that we know

- trainers: I actually have one pair and rarely wear them, i like other types of shoes better

more general:

- eating: I love to eat, but i guess i have a fucking food disorder cause lot of times, mostly in summer but also during stressing periods, my body just don’t wanna have anything to do with food

- drinking: my favourites are tea, Dr. Pepper and Caramel Macchiato. I have to admit that i love alcohol, but i don’t go out a lot, also I don’t have enough money -.-”

- i’m about to watch: nothing right now, but late in the afternoon I’ll watch Attack on Titans

- waiting for: be able to see my friends more, be able to do the things I love

- want: to succeed in things that are important in my life, my goals, find a way to meet BTS (I know, it’s fucking impossible) + graduate and all the things above. For material things… a lot ahahahah

- get married: yes, when I’ll be ready and able to.

- career: well… that’s a rough point. I have no idea of what i want to do in the future or even what i could do. It’s difficult in my country and that doesn’t help. I just hope to find something that i like that can give me the possibility to go on with my life.

which is better:

- hugs or kisses: I think hugs, kisses are good too, but just with a few people.

- lips or eyes: I am more into eyes <3

- shorter or taller: I don’t mind

- older or younger: Not a problem either. If it’s about someone i would date, I don’t care, as long as they have a grown up mind.

- nice arms or stomach: Well… I have a thing for male shoulders, so I think arms, but a nice stomach is appreciated

- hookup or relationship: I’m not able to have something with someone if it doesn’t envolves a relationship. It can be an important one or a simple one (starting simple and see how things go), but definitelly not a hookup

- troublemaker or hesitant: absolutelly hesitant

have you ever:

- kissed a stranger: NO

- drank hard liquor: Of course

- lost glasses: yes, but found them immediately

- turned someone down: probably anyone who knows me, I’m SO fucking good at it

- sex on first date: GEEZ NO

- broken someone’s heart: I don’t know, I hope not, but I’m afraid I did

- had your heart broken: God, yes

- been arrested: no

- cried when someone died: yes

- fallen for a friend: yes, also because most of the times I need to become friend with someone before falling for them

do you believe in:

- yourself: not really, but I never lose my determination

- miracles: no

- love at first sight: you can like someone even in a romantic way, the first time you see them, but love is something that born from a relationship and grows with time

- santa claus: nope

- kiss on first date: gnnnn… it’s very difficult for me, but it could happen i guess?

- angels: not really

other:

- best friend’s name: they’re more than one

- eye colour: brown

- fave movie: The Lord of the Rings saga <3 for me it’s like so important, it’s not just a film

- fave actor: Geez, i don’t know, i have a lot. Alexander Vlahos, Ryan Reynols and David Tennant for sure. But also, almost everyone in The Lord of the Rings cast and probably someone I don’t remeber at the moment.

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kingotabek · 6 years

Text

In The Blood (I See You)...[Mafia!AU Part 4]

Alright mafia anon. You not only get part three, but you ALSO get part four un-beta’d. I can’t believe I’m working on this instead of my NaNoWriMo stuff (yes I can, I’m totally hot for this AU)

Warning: I’ve been told I should include a warning so warning for Mafia related elements. You know, violence, guns, murder, everything that comes with those.

--------------------

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three]

Yuri cocks the pistols slowly as he aims it at JJ’s head.

The canadian prick is kneeling on the ground before him, blue eyes shining with glee, and a smile to match. It’s like he has no fear of the bullet Yuri just loaded right in front of him.

“Alright, Leroy.” Yuri keeps his voice level, no matter how badly he wants to spit in JJ’s face, it’s not what he came for. “Spill.”

JJ trades in dangerous secrets. Is an in and out type with a secret boss who is supposedly the most dangerous man in any of Russia’s current circles. A title Yuri wishes he held himself.

I’m close, he thinks shifting the gun a bit closer to JJ, being the infamous Ice Tiger is almost just as good.

“Tsk, tsk, Kitten.” JJ teases like he’s in any position to mouth off. “I thought I told you last time, I can’t answer certain questions if you’re not willing to pay a heavy price.”

Yuri switches hands fluidly, just to show off, and brings the now free one under JJ’s chin. Having JJ look up at him like this has always been a personal joy, and if the man weren’t an annoying pig, Yuri would probably enjoy it in an entirely different context.

“Last time,” He says slowly, “I was stupid enough to ask about your boss. This time,” His finger tightens on the trigger, and JJ’s eyes waiver to the movement, “I need to know about someone else.”

“Now now,” JJ soothes, or tries to, “you have easier channels to go through than me to get info on a tough kill.”

“He’s not a kill.” Yuri states. He has no reason to play games, not while he has the advantage.

“Not a kill.” JJ coos, “Has our kitten got a special someone? Is this you checking up?”

Yuri flinches. He knows it’s not obvious to JJ, but it’s a flinch all the same and Yuri makes sure he covers it by leaning down and moving his hand to JJ’s throat.

“I’m the one asking questions, Leroy.” Yuri knows the feeling of his bare nails against flesh is the reason JJ’s own facade slips, and a sudden sheen of sweat finally breaks out beneath the barrel of the gun, so he jumps straight to the point. “What do you know about Otabek Altin?”

Yuri expects JJ to hesitate, to stall and bargain and name his price. What Yuri doesn’t not expect is for JJ to stiffen further, neck flexing on a nervous swallow, and to blink rapidly before he recomposes himself enough to return Yuri’s gaze.

“Nothing.” JJ states. His voice has gone cold, usual teasing elements and sly tone diminished to hard statements. “At least not anything I can tell you.”

Yuri growls and grips JJ’s throat tighter.

“That tells me you have the exact information I want.” Yuri hisses, shifting the gun, bringing it in a slow slide down JJ’s cheek. A threat and a caress all in one motion. “I’ve more than enough blood on my hands to prove I’m capable of paying the price this time.”

“There is no price. Not on this one.” JJ swallows again. “Braver men have tried, so take some advice, Kitten. Some things are better left alone.”

“You know me better than that.” Yuri spits, getting to his knees and bringing himself eye level. “I’m the Ice Tiger now. Or have you forgotten why you so easily got on your knees for me?” He presses into JJ’s jugular with just his pinkie nail. “I don’t want this to get messy, but it very easily can.”

It’s not ideal. Bringing JJ down is a nice fantasy--a frequent fantasy. In reality, it’ll irritate a lot of people Yuri would rather not deal with. But still, Yuri thinks as he digs his other nails in just as hard, JJ isn’t giving him what he wants, and that makes it very tempting to just deal with the consequences.

“There really is nothing I can say.” JJ tries, jaw tensing and pink cheek pressing harder against the black of the gun. “You may be the Ice Tiger, but I’m more afraid of the Big Bad Wolf, as they say.”

“Oh come on you fucking bastard!” Yuri growls again. He’s back on his feet in one motion hauling JJ up with him. Finger ever tighter on the damn trigger. “You won’t be afraid of anyone if you let me kill you right here.”

He lets go of JJ’s throat; only so he can put both hands on the gun, and seats the muzzle right between JJ’s crystal grey eyes. There’s thinly masked fear behind them now, and it sends a burning coil of pleasure right to Yuri’s gut. He’s going to enjoy this, consequences be damned.

“I know he can be an ass, Yura, but I’d prefer you don’t shoot him.” A voice-- an oh-so-freshly-familiar voice-- interrupts Yuri’s trigger squeeze right at the perfect moment, and draws his attention to the doorway. “I don’t like cleaning up parts of my own men.”

Yuri expects a gun to be pointed back at him now, maybe multiple, but JJ’s savior aims nothing but a smile.

Leaning against the wall calmly, arms crossed--and eyes locked on Yuri in a way that doesn’t suit the situation-- is the last person Yuri expects to see.

Otabek.

#otayuri #otabek altin #yuri plisetsky #mafia au #otabek #yurio #ask fic #my fic #In The Blood (I See You)

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droewyn · 6 years

Text

Give Me a Reason (7/11)

February, 2015

“Hair of the dog, mon ange?” Lounging on the bed nude, relaxed, and disgustingly unhungover, Christophe tipped an open bottle of Grey Goose toward Victor. The store name on the price sticker was written in Cyrillic, and was quite familiar.

“You went through my luggage?” Mock outrage would not have been possible before the painkillers, water, and hot shower. It would probably have been more convincing after two or three cups of tea. “I brought that for your birthday.”

Chris smiled sweetly, showing off his dimples. “And today it is my birthday. What a wonderful surprise; I’m touched by your thoughtfulness.”

Victor shook his head, unable to contain a fond chuckle at his friend’s antics. “This is why I don’t wrap your gifts,” he said. “It would be a pointless gesture.”

“If you did, the customs officials would only make you unwrap them again at the airport,” Chris pointed out.

“True enough. What time is it?”

Christophe checked his phone. “We’ve more than enough time for breakfast before the men’s free.”

“Wonderful.” Hopefully a full stomach would chase away the remaining aftereffects of the prior evening. Chris had insisted on dragging Victor out on an impromptu club crawl of every gay hotspot in Bern. It was fun for as long as they were together, but the crowd on the dance floor invariably separated them, and whether he was recognized or not, Victor was never left unpartnered for long. Dancing led to grinding, and then to drink offers that were far less awkward to accept than to turn down. Next was more dancing if he was lucky, and shouted pick-up lines and attempts at small talk if he wasn’t. Chris eventually appeared to rescue him, but not before the Sharpies materialized. By the end of the night, Victor had been covered in scribbled names and phone numbers, not one of which he could match with a face if he cared enough to try. The marker had scrubbed away in the shower with the aid of some hand sanitizer. The three different colors of glitter turning his skin into a teenage vampire fantasy were more stubborn. “Shall I make you some birthday blini?”

Chris appeared to consider the idea. “Why not?” he decided finally. “I’ve been wanting to remodel my kitchen, and you burning it down will give me the excuse that I need.”

Victor gasped as Christophe’s lips twisted into a smirk. “That happened once!” he protested hotly. “More than three years ago! I’ll have you know that I’ve improved since then.”

“Like a fine wine, darling, but whatever does that have to do with your cooking?”

In the end, Chris was the one to make the pancakes, preferring the texture of true crepes to the egginess of blini. His honor on the line, Victor produced both a cream cheese sauce and a berry reduction for toppings. The mimosas were a joint effort, Christophe declaring that they paired far better with sweet crepes than Bloody Marys did, the latter made with natal day vodka or no. Settling into the comfort of Chris’ leather sofa, the two men solemnly clinked their champagne flutes together in a silent toast.

“Mon dieu, you have improved.” Having dipped the tip of a spoon into one of the serving bowls for a taste, Chris was now enthusiastically dolloping both red and white sauces onto his plate. “To what do we owe this miracle?” His face turned thoughtful. “Or, should I say, to whom?”

Victor flushed. “You know I’ve been watching a lot of American television lately,” he began evasively.

“Entirely on your own initiative, of course.” Chris wasn’t having any of it. He’d been teasing Victor about Lukewarm Mess a lot over the past year, ever since noticing that Victor suddenly seemed to be glued to his phone whenever they met at competitions. He had jumped to entirely the wrong conclusion, labeling Mess and Victor’s correspondence a long-distance romance instead of the comfortable friendship that it actually was. Of course, if Victor had told Chris the nature of the chat channel, rather than letting him form his own assumptions…

No. There were things that Victor couldn’t say out loud, not even to his closest friend. He didn’t think that he could face the disappointment in Christophe’s eyes – or, worse, the sympathy.

He sighed in defeat. “All right. My friend Mess and I,” he emphasized the word, “have been watching an instructional cooking show called Good Eats together. His parents run a bed-and-breakfast,” or something like one; Mess had always been rather vague on the subject of his family business. And his family in general. Having no taste for hypocrisy, and holding personal secrets of his own, Victor never pressed, “and he started helping in the kitchen when he was five.”

“Ah. So when he learned that you actually eat those revolting nutri-meals the sports dietitians try to inflict on us…”

“He was shocked and appalled and took immediate responsibility for remedying the situation, yes.” Victor smiled at the memory. There had been exclamation points. The phrase ‘Purina Human Chow’, accompanied by a slew of kaomojis. And descriptions of various meals that Mess and his roommate liked to cook, so loving that they had verged on pornographic.

“And the result?”

He shrugged. “I’ve started making real food for myself on rest days, sometimes. I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy cooking enough to want to do it after a full day of practice, and I’m not exactly creative in the kitchen, but I can follow a recipe just fine. Yuri says that my stroganoff isn’t completely disgusting, which is high praise coming from him.”

Christophe’s eyes were comically wide. “Marry that man,” he breathed. “Marry him quickly, before he escapes.”

“We live on opposite sides of the world. We’ve never even met.” The opportunity had been there a few months ago, and not only had Victor well and truly blown it, he’d nearly destroyed his and Mess’ friendship in the process. But Chris didn’t need to know any of that, either.

“All the better. Ensnare him before he knows what he’s getting into.”

Victor was saved from further prodding into his nonexistent love life by his phone alarm, alerting them to the beginning of the men’s singles coverage. Chris turned on the TV, and the familiar sight of Mokdong Ice Rink illuminated the screen. A pair of commentators preened for the camera as they discussed the history of the Four Continents Championship and the year’s host city, Seoul. In the background, the first group of skaters was warming up.

The woman promised a ‘hot time on the ice’, which prompted her male counterpart to chuckle as though she’d said something both witty and original. Victor winced. “Isn’t there a raw feed we could watch instead?” he asked plaintively.

“Not for a competition that Switzerland isn’t invited to,” Chris said. “Besides, Florian and Sarah really are quite knowledgeable once the actual skating starts.” Now the announcers were trading cold weather puns back and forth. Victor had first heard every single one of them while he was still in Novices. “They’re national treasures, really.”

“Then by all means, lock them away in a secret vault under armed guard.”

Chris tsked at him. “Someone’s ready for more alcohol.”

By the time the drinks were poured – and, in Victor’s case, immediately slammed back and poured again – the warmups had finished and the skating begun.

Watching others perform was never easy for Victor. It was impossible to lose himself in another’s program when some part of him was always watching with a champion’s eye, analyzing every edge and gesture. If he were the one dancing, he’d change the jump composition so, and the choreography thusly. Victor tended to think of that critical little voice as his Inner Yakov, and it had only grown louder and less forgiving over the years.

If he’d hoped that he could manage to silence it given enough vodka, it turned out that he was very much mistaken.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped at the screen. The current skater was part of the second group, or was it the third? The half-empty glass in front of Victor was definitely his fifth. “That idiot needs to go home and skate nothing but figures until he learns his left from his right.”

At first Chris had been delighted with his friend’s scathing remarks, but as time went on and Victor’s tongue stayed sharp enough to cut, glee faded into something between horror and awe.

“A fitting tribute to the bombast of Wagner,” Victor declared of another performance. “Pity he’s actually trying to dance the Sugarplum Fairy.”

Not even the medal contenders were spared. Hometown favorite Seung-gil Lee’s program earned wondering amazement that technology had advanced far enough to allow robots to compete against humans. JJ Leroy was branded a little lost hockey player whose goalie probably missed him.

“Unless he is the goalie,” Victor continued, warming to his subject. “He certainly skates like he’s used to being stuck in a ten-foot box for hours on end.”

A dark-haired figure in blue took position. “Disney called; they want Prince Charming’s wardrobe back,” Victor sneered. But then the music started, melancholy synthed-harpsichord and violin, joined by the breathy velvet of Freddie Mercury’s vocals. The man – Yuuri Katsuki -- started to dance. And Victor found his mouth snapping shut.

It was far from perfect. The jump composition was unambitious – safe, Inner Yakov whispered snidely – and even then Katsuki was struggling with his landings. But his spins and transitions were solid, and his footwork was… exquisite. Better than mine, Victor thought, and for once Inner Yakov didn’t disagree. But all of that was background noise. Katsuki’s musicality had always been his greatest strength; when he moved, he appeared to shape the music rather than allowing it to direct his body. This skate was no different. Or rather, it was different, because Victor couldn’t recall ever seeing him dance a conversation before.

Who wants to live forever, the music asked. Do I? Katsuki’s body wondered in return. Should I? Why should I?

Give me a reason to want to.

Neither Freddie nor Katsuki seemed to have an answer to that.

His eyes were stinging. When was the last time that Victor had thought, really thought about his own reasons? He’d made it a daily habit, just as Mess had suggested so long ago, until the process was as automatic as the rest of his morning routine. Wake up, brush teeth, apply face mask, walk Makkachin, come up with some sort of motivation to keep putting one foot in front of the other for another day, go home and get ready to skate. What had his reason even been that morning? Oh. Right. Watching Four Continents with Chris. And how’s that working out for me? Drunk, in a foul mood, and getting looks from Chris like he’s worried I’m about to go for his throat.

What a way to celebrate his best friend’s birthday.

Despairing. Lost. On the edge of surrender, the song had one final, hesitant, suggestion. Love. What about loving forever?

A heart-wrenching pause, the words either too late or not enough to reach the despondent skater. But then Katsuki’s head snapped up, and he exploded into motion. Twizzles, spins, a three-jump combo that nobody had any business attempting so late in a program, but nailed with textbook precision and a resolve so fierce that it burned. Suddenly, after all of his searching, Katsuki had his answer. His reason. His forever. The music – and performance -- ended in triumph, two hands clutched against a heaving chest, newfound love held fast to his heart.

I wish someone would skate like that for me.

And wasn’t that thought just the most surprising thing?

“Nothing to say, mon coeur?” Chris was looking at him curiously. On the screen, Katsuki took his bows, a broad grin splitting his face. Someone tossed a plush dog on the ice that looked rather similar to the toy Makkachins that Victor was usually showered with. The skater collected it on his way to the kiss and cry, where he crushed it against his chest while waiting for his scores.

What was there to say? That Victor had been struggling to answer that very same question since the moment he’d realized that sleepwalking through life wasn’t normal? That he’d somehow managed to trade all of his human emotions for gold medals, but couldn’t remember making the bargain? That the one person he wanted so badly to trust, the one he came closest to unburdening himself completely with, didn’t know Makkachin’s name, or even that she was a poodle? Because when Lukewarm Mess had asked to see pictures of KingElsa’s baby, as both a friend and fellow dog-lover inevitably would, Victor had panicked? What kind of pathetic person needed to use their elderly neighbor’s Samoyed as a catfish? Did it even count as catfishing if he wasn’t actually misrepresenting himself… except, oh wait, he was doing that, too.

When exactly did Victor become as big of a dick as his public persona?

He muttered something in response to Chris, and was immediately asked to repeat it. “I said his jumps could use some work,” Victor said again, barely louder the second time. “And I should send his coach my costume designer’s card. That generic getup didn’t support Katsuki’s performance at all.”

Chris blinked at him, his eyes taking on a contemplative gleam that Victor wasn’t sure he liked. “Really? How interesting.”

There were only a handful of skaters left after that. Once the dust had settled, Cao Bin topped the podium, his famous stoicism giving way to tears when China’s anthem began to play. To Bin’s right, a young powerhouse from Kazakhstan stood straight and proud, a hero who had been granted his just reward. And to Bin’s left…

Yuuri Katsuki looked composed at first glance, but his gaze was unfocused and there was color riding high in his cheeks. A soft, almost disbelieving smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and one hand kept creeping up to brush his medal with reverent fingers. And at one point, although the camera was panning away to focus on Bin, Victor could have sworn that he saw the bronze medalist surreptitiously pinch his own forearm.

Adorable.

“See something you like?” Chris purred, and Victor flushed. Had he honestly just said that out loud? “I’ve been trying to get you and my darling Yuuri in the same room for simply ages, but the dearest pain au cannelle always refuses me.”

“Really?” A senior skater who wasn’t frothing at the mouth at the chance to be introduced to Victor Nikiforov? Now that was interesting. “Do you know why?” The likeliest explanation was that Katsuki was uncomfortable with Chris and wanted to limit contact with him. It was a shame, but very few skaters looked past the over-the-top flirting to see the genuinely good man behind it. Although, wouldn’t they have to be on at least friendly terms for Chris to extend the offer in the first place? Chris would never abuse Victor’s trust by acting as a go-between to strangers, and a friendship would certainly explain the English pet names. Christophe might shower a room full of acquaintances with French endearments until the words lost all meaning, but he had very few dearests or darlings. So why, then?

Something of Victor’s interest must have shown on his face, because Chris had gone from mischievous to downright predatory. “Alas, but my sweet Yuuri is shy,” he murmured sadly. “Do you know how long it took to get him to stop calling me ‘Giacometti-san’? Most of Juniors, and he never looked up to me the way he does you.”

Oh. It was like being doused in cold water. Of course there was nothing different about Katsuki; of course he was a fan. He was simply too timid to act when given an opportunity. Victor had always known he’d been an influence on the Japanese skater; there had been echoes of his own skating in Katsuki’s performances for as far back as Victor had watched them. Nothing overt, probably nothing that was ever deliberately inserted, but always present. Victor should have realized what that would mean before…

Before what? Before I fell for a pair of sad eyes and a routine that I thought was speaking to me? He’s a performer, no more genuine than I am. He couldn’t understand how I feel, and if he did he wouldn’t care. Because he’s my fan, and at best I’m nothing more than a goalpost to him. At worst? Victor had read the fanfiction. He knew what sort of person read it. Wrote it.

“Well, don’t push the poor boy’s boundaries on my account,” he said with a careless shrug. “I only thought it was cute to see someone so excited to finish in third.”

Chris blinked at him, nonplussed. He obviously hadn’t expected such a non-reaction, but when Victor just smiled blandly at him he sighed, and dropped the suggestion. “Ah well, you know what they say; silver is bitter, wishing it were gold, but bronze is simply happy for a place to stand.”

“Is that how you feel?” Victor was off-balance. Off-balance and drunk, that was the only explanation for the too-honest question that spilled from his lips, too soft and raw to be taken as anything other than the plea that it was. Already rattled, Christophe stared at him in shock, his mouth falling open. Victor knew with a sinking feeling that it was probably a futile effort, but he forced his mouth to twist into an amused smirk anyway. “Because I’m afraid I can’t go easy on you simply to spare your feelings.”

Chris clearly didn’t believe a word of it. “Victor—“ Whatever he was planning on saying next was interrupted by his phone, which loudly declared that it was too sexy for various articles of clothing as it started vibrating across the table. Chris glanced at the display. “It’s Josef,” he said, frowning. “I can—“

“Take it,” Victor was still grinning, not knowing what else to do. “It’s probably important.”

Another hesitation coupled with a long, searching glance, and Chris thumbed the green icon to accept the call. Victor looked away, ostensibly to give his friend some privacy. The fake smile slid off his face like the lie that it was, leaving something blank and empty in its place. Victor’s French was good, and Josef tended to shout into phones; the coach was calling about a last minute interview request, a magazine article with a photo spread.

Something that might get Victor off the hook, at least for a little while.

“Non,” Christophe was shaking his head. “Pas aujourd'hui. Nous fêtons mon anniversaire, et—“

“Il va le faire!” Victor called out, loud enough for Josef to hear. “Il va le faire! Je l'aurai prêt dans vingt minutes!”

Chris glared at him. “Un moment, Josef,” he said into the phone, then slapped his finger over the microphone. “Victor—“

“It’s a good opportunity,” he said, cutting Chris short. “You shouldn’t pass up a chance at exposure just because I drank a little too much and got maudlin.”

“You need to brush up on your English.” His voice was low, upset. “I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘honest.”

Victor winced. “Look,” he tried again, “just go—“

“Absolutely n—“

“Please? I don’t want to wreck this for you. Besides, I need some time to…“ Sober up. Muster some defenses. Run for the consulate. Or, better yet, the airport. “…get my head back in order.”

“And we’ll talk when I get back.” Chris still looked worried, but he’d started considering the idea. Good.

“Of course.”

Green-gold eyes measured him for a moment longer. Victor did his best not to shrink from the concern in them. “Answer me one thing first.”

Was he being too eager? Not eager enough? Damn it, Victor couldn’t think. “Anything,” he said.

“When was the last time you were happy?”

His mouth opened. Closed again. “I…” he began. Stopped.

“Oh, Vitya.” And then Chris was hugging him. Warm, strong arms wrapped around him, one hand still holding the muted mobile. Chris smelled like spiced amber, and maybe it was weak, but Victor’s self-control had drowned itself hours ago. His pride put up a feeble protest, but the worst had already happened, hadn’t it? His mask had finally slipped, and someone had seen inside. He hugged Chris back, burying his face in his shoulder.

“You really want me to leave you like this?” Chris murmured. Victor nodded without pulling away. “You’re sure?”

“Please.” Victor’s voice cracked on the word. “I just need some space. Some time. I just need…”

Christophe’s arms tightened around his shoulders. “All right, darling,” he said finally, his voice thick. “All right.” One last squeeze, and he released Victor to hold the phone against his ear.

“Josef? Pardon.” Chris hurried into his bedroom, the door closing behind him. Victor sank back into the couch and closed his eyes, tucking his knees up under his chin. He could hear the faint sounds of rushed dressing and Chris’ replies to his coach, and did his best to tune them out. He felt sick to his stomach. Exhausted. Empty. So very empty. Was this a panic attack? It wasn’t anything like Mess’ descriptions, but then Mess always seemed to feel everything, so an excess of emotion made sense for him. For a hollow person like Victor, maybe this numb sort of dread was as close as he could get.

What did Mess say that he did when he got lost in his own head? Victor couldn’t remember. Counting breaths, maybe?

Can’t hurt, I suppose. All right. One… two…

Long moments passed, and then there were gentle fingers in his hair. He opened his eyes.

“Here.” Chris was pressing an object into Victor’s hands. He blinked at it for a second before recognizing it as his laptop. “I know you want to be by yourself for a while, but don’t be alone. Talk to your friends.”

“Chris…” Victor knew that he should be feeling something. Gratitude. Affection. Shame, even. And maybe there was a tiny glow of emotion stirring beneath the haze of alcohol and numbness. It wasn’t enough. “I… I will. Thank you.”

“I am not happy about this.” Chris was still moving, now clattering around in his kitchen. He emerged carrying a glass of water and a plate piled high with cheese, fruit, and crackers. He set them down on the coffee table in front of Victor. “Eat something while I’m gone. And drink.”

Victor eyed the platter. The cheeses were supposed to be for later, for what should have been a happy evening. Reminding himself that he was ruining Chris’ birthday hurt, but the pain was better than nothingness. “I won’t be able to properly appreciate the Bregaglia.” It was a feeble joke, and neither of them smiled at it.

“Eat it anyway.”

“Oui, maman.”

Chris was fussing over him now, delaying his departure. “And call if you need me. For anything.”

“I will.”

Christophe shook his head. His smile was sad, and all too knowing. “No, you won’t,” he said softly.

“Probably not,” Victor agreed.

Then there was a brief press of lips against Victor’s forehead, and Chris left.

The bottles were gone, put away while Victor was lost in his fog. He didn’t think Chris would go so far as to hide them from him, but it would be humiliating to be proven wrong, so he decided not to check. The snacks in front of him looked revolting, and the glass full of nothing but water was mocking him.

I should go out, he thought. Get some air. Get away… He could walk along the Aare, feed the ducks some of those crackers. Maybe take some selfies under the Child-Eater fountain or do some other touristy thing that he and Chris always joked about but never actually did.

Or he could go farther. It wouldn’t be the first time Victor changed flight arrangements on a whim, and it would hardly be the last. Chris might be upset – don’t lie to yourself, Vitya. Chris will be furious – but he was responsible. Responsible, and nowhere near as impulsive as Victor. He wouldn’t hop on a plane this close to Worlds, and Victor would have time to get his shit together, come up with an excuse—

His phone chirped an incoming text alert. It had barely been five minutes since Chris had left; he couldn’t have arrived at the venue yet. Sure enough, when Victor tapped the notification bar more out of habit than actual curiosity, the photo Christophe had sent him showed an empty leather bucket seat. Or almost empty. A very familiar red leather booklet emblazoned with Russia’s double-headed eagle was prominent in the image, resting proudly on top of…

That devious Swiss bastard.

There were no emojis that could possibly express the level of outrage that Victor needed for his reply.

MY SHOES??!?!?!?

Bonjour, mon coeur! How is your online sweetheart?

YOU STOLE. MY SHOES.

And your passport. I *have* met you before, darling.

Now be a good boy and stay put, and I’ll see you when I get home.

I could stretch out your Ferragamos for you…

And risk blisters this close to Worlds? Be my guest.

I’ll buy a new pair or three with my gold medal winnings.

…Damn it. Outmaneuvered by an overgrown Alpine moppet. If word got out, he would never hear the end of it. Well. Never let it be said that Victor Nikiforov didn’t know how to cope with defeat.

I hope the camera adds thirty pounds to your ass.

He sighed, and reached for his laptop.

* Joined channel #therapycouchfort

* Topic is ‘Happy Half-Off-Chocolate Day Eve!’

* Set by SockPuppet on Feb 14 10:39:02 2015

StandardDeviation: hey king

KingElsa: Hello.

KingElsa: Where is everyone?

SockPuppet: Mess is conferencing for business again

StandardDeviation: i haven’t seen mess today

KingElsa: I don’t just come her e to talk to Lukewarm Mess you know.

StandardDeviation: of course not

SockPuppet: You just keep telling yourself that

StandardDeviation: you also come here to talk ABOUT mess.

KingElsa: …

StandardDeviation: it only stings because its true <3

* Peaches_and_Dream has joined #therapycouchfort

Peaches_and_Dream: Hello, boy and girls! Isn’t it a lovely day to be alive?

StandardDeviation: hey peaches

Peaches_and_Dream: ( ❁ ´ ▽ ` ❁ )* ✲ ﾟ *

SockPuppet: Someone’s getting laid…

* lukewarm_mess has joined #therapycouchfort

Peaches_and_Dream: Close, only even better!

SockPuppet: What could be better than getting laid?

Peaches_and_Dream: Mess

Peaches_and_Dream: And

Peaches_and_Dream: I

lukewarm_mess: peach no

Peaches_and_Dream: Received some very prestigious awards tonight!

lukewarm_mess: it’s not necessary to tell everyone

StandardDeviation: congrats you two

SockPuppet: !!! Wtg!

lukewarm_mess: nobody even cares outside of our industry

lukewarm_mess: pls don’t make a fuss

Peaches_and_Dream: Says the man whose numbers were THIRD

Peaches_and_Dream: In almost the entire world

StandardDeviation: that’s really impressive mess

lukewarm_mess: hardly the entire world

Peaches_and_Dream: 6/7 of it

lukewarm_mess: you’re counting antarctica??

SockPuppet: Don’t downplay your achievements, mess

SockPuppet: If you were recognized, it was for a reason

Peaches_and_Dream: ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ *fistbumps Socks*

StandardDeviation: what did you win peach

Peaches_and_Dream: I came in fifth! Which isn’t actually an award category or anything but still. Top five!

Peaches_and_Dream: The high scorers had better watch their backs. I’m coming for them next!

StandardDeviation: you sound so competitive lol

Peaches_and_Dream: It’s a competitive field

Peaches_and_Dream: Practically an olympic sport, really

lukewarm_mess: PEACH

lukewarm_mess: can we change the subject now

StandardDeviation: *pokes king to see if he’s dead*

StandardDeviation: *poke*

StandardDevation: *poooooooooooooooooooke*

SockPuppet: That’s enough

KingElsa: I’m not dead.

lukewarm_mess: hi king

SockPuppet: We were teasing him a little bit and he’s been quiet since. Sorry if we overstepped, King

KingElsa: Hi Mess.

KingElsa: It’s not you guys.

lukewarm_mess: bad day?

KingElsa: You could say that

KingElsa: I accidentally let slip to a friend that I’m…

Peaches_and_Dream: …gay? (͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)

KingElsa: :P

KingElsa: Not always as happy as I act

StandardDeviation: accidentally or “accidentally”

*lukewarm_mess>> {{{hugs}}}

KingElsa: Definitely unintentional

SockPuppet: How did they take it

/msg lukewarm_mess: Thanks <3

Peaches_and_Dream: I’m sure if it’s a good friend he’s concerned about you

KingElsa: he had to go out for a work thing, but he wants to talk when he gets back.

*lukewarm_mess>> i know you’re upset but i can’t help but think this is a good thing

KingElsa: I’d rather run away than face him.

*lukewarm_mess>> you know how i feel about you not having a rl support base

SockPuppet: Running away is a bad idea

lukewarm_mess: don’t run away

/msg lukewarm_mess: The way he looked at me hurt.

/msg lukewarm_mess: I don’t want to be pitoeid

/msg lukewarm_mess: pitied*

*lukewarm_mess>> now i know you’re upset

KingElsa: I…. um. can’t.

*lukewarm_mess>> if you’re making typos

StandardDeviation: ???

/msg lukewarm_mess: Hush, you. Do you even know what the shift key is for??

lukewarm_mess: sure, symbols and emojis :P

KingElsa: He kind of took my shoes and passport with him when he left.

Peaches_and_Dream: OMFG my kind of friend!

StandardDeviation: :O

lukewarm_mess: did you have to tell everyone that

lukewarm_mess: you’ll give peach ideas

SockPuppet: I’m glad you have a friend who cares about you, King

Peaches_and_Dream: Because keeping you inside the apartment is always such a problem, Mess ( ￢ _ ￢ )

Peaches_and_Dream: King ask your dude if he has any solutions for getting people to come out of their room

KingElsa: I wish he cared a little less, to be honest.

StandardDeviation: really? harsh

*lukewarm_mess>> you don’t mean that

KingElsa: No… I guess I don’t mean it. I’m glad he cares. Mostly.

KingElsa: I just wish he didn’t have to?

StandardDeviation: are you wishing for neurotypicality or not to need other people

StandardDeviation: because while we’re at it i wiould like a pony

KingElsa: …I’m being an ass, aren’t I

lukewarm_mess: no

Peaches_and_Dream: A bit

KingElsa: …

Peaches_and_Dream: Okay, serious talk now so pay attention

SockPuppet: This should be good.

Peaches_and_Dream: You seem to me like one of those people who needs to act untouchable in public. It’s even in your screen name. And you’ve mentioned being in a position of high visibility before

KingElsa: Yes…

Peaches_and_Dream: Where does the line between the public you and private you begin? And which side of that line does your friend stand on? Or any of the other people in your life?

KingElsa: That’s the problem. I’m not sure there *is* a line anymore.

KingElsa: If ther eever was.

Peaches_and_Dream: So there’s no one in the world you can turn to? Nobody who can call you out on your bullshit?

KingElsa: You seem to be doing a pretty good job of that right now >.>

Peaches_and_Dream: I’m on the internet, I don’t count. Even if I knew who you were irl, we’re not friends. We’re certainly not close.

KingElsa: True.

Peaches_and_Dream: So my question stands.

KingElsa: My co

KingElsa: boss*

KingElsa: I guess

Peaches_and_Dream: But he’s work, so he’s part of your public life

KingElsa: So is Chris.

KingElsa: My friend, I mean. I met him through work.

Peaches_and_Dream: And did the relationship stay there?

KingElsa: No.

KingElsa: Well. It’s complicated.

KingElsa: We’re rivals as well as friends, so…

Peaches_and_Dream: Do you think he’d take advantage of you professionally if he thought you were vulnerable?

KingElsa: No.

KingElsa: He’s not like that. He’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.

Peaches_and_Dream: So he’s someone you feel you can trust?

KingElsa: I don’t want to be a bother to him.

Peaches_and_Dream: That’s not what I asked.

*lukewarm_mess>> Are you okay with this?

KingElsa: …Yes. I can trust Chris.

Peaches_and_Dream: But you don’t want to bother him. Because he’ll stop being your friend if you’re an annoyance to him?

KingElsa: I toldy ou he’s not like that!

lukewarm_mess: peach, that’s enough

Peaches_and_Dream: I believe you. So why don’t you want to bother Chris with your feelings, then?

KingElsa: …

KingElsa: Because I don’t’ want him to see me as we3ak

SockPuppet: OK TIME OUT PEOPLE

KingElsa: I have been on top since I was sixteen yoeuars osld and since I was sixteen I have understoond that if others are oging to look up to me I hvae to be someone that is worhty of being looked up to. I can’t slip I can’t fall I can’t crack because If i do I will let someone donw. I can’t show weakness becausew i can’t BE weka.

SockPuppet: Peach you are overstepping boundaries like woah

Peaches_and_Dream: You’re allowed to be human, King

SockPuppet: BUT I’m hesitant to bounce you because I think you’re acting out of good intentions

KingElsa: says a SALSEMAN who has NO DIEA what I go throu

Peaches_and_Dream: You’d be surprised. We have a lot more in common than you might think

SockPuppet: ENOUGH

KingElsa: you don’t eve n blong here you aren’t even depressd

SockPuppet: THE NEXT PERSON WHO TYPES ANYTHING IS GETTING A THREE DAY KICKBAN

The stark line of text brought Victor up short. What was he doing? He was flinging insults at a college student, that was what he was doing. A college student who had never spoken to him with anything other than kindness, even if it often came paired with a healthy dose of mischief. One who certainly didn’t need to be treated like an enemy or an obstacle.

SockPuppet: Take a deep breath and calm down, both of you

Calm. He’d been calm. Or numb, at least. When did the deadness change into anger? And why? Because Mess' roommate was right; Peaches was just a name on a screen, no more real or relevant to Victor Nikiforov than someone he passed on the street while walking Makkachin. Nothing he said – typed! – should be able to affect Victor in the slightest. Unless…

*lukewarm_mess>> i’m so sorry

*lukewarm_mess>> i don’t know why he’s pushing you like this

*lukewarm_mess>> are you okay

Those three short private messages pulled something like a smile from Victor’s lips. Trust Mess to obey the letter of the law while doing what he thought was right behind the scenes.

He started tapping out a reply PM to reassure his friend that he was okay. Stopped. Decided, for once, to tell the truth.

/msg lukewarm_mess: no

/msg lukewarm_mess: I don’t think that I am okay

/msg lukewarm_mess: but I also don’t think that’s entirely Peach’s fault

SockPuppet: Now then.

SockPuppet: Before our safe space devolved into a school playground, I was trying to say that I thought the ideas that Peaches brought up might be worth discussing

*lukewarm_mess>> hmm. in that case…

*lukewarm_mess>> i seem to remember telling you about shoving a girl off my lap in a hospital waiting room full of people

SockPuppet: IF King was open to discussing them. He did not consent to an intervention.

*lukewarm_mess>> what was it you said to me?

SockPuppet: And now there has been bad behavior on both sides.

/msg lukewarm_mess: …

*lukewarm_mess>> (¬_¬;)

SockPuppet: So here’s what we’re going to do:

/msg lukewarm_mess: okay, okay

SockPuppet: KingElsa will decide whether Peaches_and_Dream crossed a line.

/msg lukewarm_mess: I told you that anxiety is a liar,

/msg lukewarm_mess: and that literally nobody with half a brain thinks that your’e weak

SockPuppet: If he did, then Peach will get a 3-day ban for being invasive

/msg lukewarm_mess: and that it’s okay to accept help when you need it

SockPuppet: and King will get a 1-day ban for ad hominem attacks

*lukewarm_mess>> so… and i ask this with love… can you take the advice that you dish out?

/msg lukewarm_mess: I also distinctly remember telling you that the little cow deserved to be dumped on her ass for tryig to take advangate of a coworker’s injury to put the moves ony ou.

SockPuppet: OR, and guess which option I prefer, King agrees to forgive your transgression, you both shake virtual hands or give internet hugs or whatever, and either decide to continue the conversation in a controlled and CIVIL manner or change the subject.

*lukewarm_mess>> not relevant

*lukewarm_mess> also she was not trying to put the moves on me

SockPuppet: I imagine there are a great number of sportsball games going on that we could be discussing instead

/msg lukewarm_mess: I guess I do have at least one person who can call me out on my shit

lukewarm_mess: BITE ME

SockPuppet: I

StandardDeviation: lolwut

lukewarm_mess: omg that was supposed to be a pm i’m so sorry

/msg lukewarm_mess: To me? D: D: D:

*lukewarm_mess>> nonono omg (/> / ᗣ / </ /)

Peaches_and_Dream: I only suggested we could discuss the results of the figure skating championships

lukewarm_mess: ψ (▼ へ ▼ メ) ~ → PEACH

SockPuppet: I CAN STILL KICKBAN YOU ALL

SockPuppet: A CHANNEL OF SILENT PERFECTION IS WITHIN MY GRASP

SockPuppet: DON’T THINK THAT I WON’T DO IT

/msg lukewarm_mess: Don’t like figure skating?

/msg lukewarm_mess: Or… secret fan?? (͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)

*lukewarm_mess>> no changing the subject!

/msg lukewarm_mess: spoilsport

KingElsa: Um. Can I have the floor?

SockPuppet: You may.

KingElsa: So, um. I’m not exactly happy about being blindsided by this convo

KingElsa: but but as Socks said I also said some things atha I shouldn’t have

KingElsa: And I probably should hae said somethign earlier but I’m actually pretty drunk right now

*lukewarm_mess>> omg

KingElsa: so it’s an even wo2rse time than usual to try and call me out

*lukewarm_mess>> peach just spit out matcha through his nose

/msg lukewarm_mess: does it make me a horrible person if i find that a little satisfyring?

KingElsa: So if it’s up to me Id’ rather just channel my namesake and let it go

*lukewarm_mess>> haha no, i think that’s a healthy reaction to peach

Peaches_and_Dream: Oh shit, sorry king. I would never have jumped on you like that if I’d known you weren’t at 100%

SockPuppet: You shouldn’t have “jumped” on him at all. >.>

Peaches_and_Dream: yeah no, that’s fair. Fuck though. Sorry.

KingElsa: I’ll… think about hwat you said. later. But I will think about i8t

Peaches_and_Dream: ^^

StandardDeviation: hey socks, would you feel better if you kicked us all?

lukewarm_mess: ??

SockPuppet: You… have my attention.

StandardDeviation: and then we can all come back and start over fresh

Peaches_and_Dream: I… don’t actually hate that idea

KingElsa: I’ve been kicked out of finer establishements than this one *sniffs*

SockPuppet: This pleases me. Okay, then. Take five, children. Eat or go look out a window or something.

*Disconnected from #therapycouchfort (Quit: Kicked by SockPuppet)

To be continued...

#original conten #i have committed fanfiction #chat au #therapycouchfort #yuri on ice #victor nikiforov #christophe giacometti #katsuki yuuri #phichit chulanont #victuuri

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alightinthelantern · 4 years

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Because the decade is ending I’ve been revisiting old interests and past fandoms from when I was a teen, and boy is it a trip down Memory Lane.

Listening to old Vocaloid songs from when I was in high school back in 2010, when I was 15 and new to internet culture, and it was one of the first Japanese culture I ever discovered. Apparently Vocaloids are still a thing? I knew Miku was still popular bc I’d seen stuff in the past year featuring her, but apparently the other Vocaloid characters are too, and there’ve been a whole bunch of new ones introduced in the past decade? I remember when the whole Daughter of Evil saga was being created. I remember all the alt characters people created by taking the main vocaloids and pitch-altering their voice banks. The Vocaloid community was fresh and thriving back then. That was back when Gender-Bending was a staple of fandom culture, and making male “versions” of female characters and vice versa was hugely popular. This was when “Caramelldansen” and “Ievan Polkka” weren’t Classic Memes, this was when they were new, and all the rage.

I remember the Gamecube days, back in the 2000s, and watching my stepbrothers battle my sisters interchangeably on it or the old Nintento 64 they had, in Mario Kart, or Mortal Kombat, or the original Smash Brothers (I, who had terrible hand-eye coordination, wasn’t fit for playing, but was more content to passively enjoy anyway). I remember when the Wii was first introduced (my mother didn’t believe in video games for a long time, and only bought a console for the family about four years later). I remember the GameBoy, I remember the release of the first XBox. I remember the online dress-up doll games. I remember when the Lego Star Wars video game was first released, and being an avid fanatic of those famous bricks as a kid enjoyed watching my siblings play that probably more than than anything else.

I remember how huge the cosplay scene was in the early 2010s, for all kinds of shows. I remember reading Emma: A Victorian Romance by Kaoru Mori with glee as a teen, siting in a bean bag chair in the Teen Area of my local library, because they had a dedicated manga section and had the entire print run. That was back before Borders was bought out by Barnes & Noble and ceased to be, and I’d often sit in the second-floor manga section of my local Borders and read the volumes that caught my eye for a half-hour or more, and the store clerks didn’t care because it was a different world then, a different culture, and I was always a polite, well-behaved kid anyway who always physically respected the books. Apparently the anime adaptation of Mori’s Emma from years ago finally got an English dub in the past year? I’m going to have to track it down and give it a watch.

I remember loving the Romeo x Juliet anime as a teen, that crazy and brilliantly original high-fantasy reimagining of the classic play. I loved that the English dub script was mostly in Elizabethan-era English. I remember Ouran Host Club and Baccano! too, and the first of those being one of the funniest things I’d ever seen in my life at the time. Same with The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya. I remember liking Fruits Basket back in 1010, and only realizing years later how fucked up it actually was. I remember Baccano! and Nabari No Ou. I also remember some other shows whose names don’t bear repeating. I remember downloading their OSTs off dedicated websites that no longer exist. I still have these soundtracks in my iTunes library. I remember when burning playlists onto CDs was popular; they finally became obsolete and passé sometime in my high school years, after the rise of mp3 players and programs like iTunes crystallized the superiority of the .mp3, and then people would laugh when I mentioned my own burned CD collection.

I remember when Over the Garden Wall first came out, in 2014, and how groundbreaking it was at the time in terms of what an animated show could be, visually and plot-wise. That show still has a small bud dedicated fandom it seems. I remember the character ask-blogs that were so popular from 2014--16 on tumblr, both ones with drawn replies and ones with live cosplay photos or gifs. God, the ask-blog community was so huge at the time. That might have been the height of tumblr’s popularity, the mid-2010s. I remember DeviantART and the thriving fanart community it had before tumblr took over in the early 2010s. I remember all OCs people were making, and the ask-accounts before ask-blogs were a thing. I remember the roleplay groups. I remember all the fucked-up things people were into back then because the Scene Phase had come but not yet entirely gone, and because teens were emo little shits in general. I remember when anime pairings were written as “[name] x [name]” in full before people started mashing names together around 2014, I remember when words like y*oi and y*ri were the norm. Oh how times have changed. (And thank god they’ve changed)

I remember when the Twilight movies were being made and my high school health teacher put the first movie on in class one day and had the class point out different ways in with the romance was toxic and unhealthy. It’s mind-boggling that in 2019, after The Discourse had come, burned, raged, and gone, that people are still stupid enough to like those films. Even back then I was smart enough to see them for the creepy, badly-written dreck that they were. I remember when The Hunger Games was published (I never read it). I remember the first Hunger Games Movie coming out and the controversy surrounding Jennifer Lawrence being cast as the lead. I remember coming into school one day to find two of my teachers casually debating it (I never saw the movies, and didn’t particularly care about that conversation).

I remember watching an independent showing of Studio Ghibli’s From Up on Poppy Hill in 2015 at a local indie theater, and the audience roaring with laughter when one of the boys at the old club house asked “How can we make archaeology cool again?!” and another replying “We can’t!”, and then a woman in the audience said out loud “Archaeology is cool!”

I remember the birth, life and death of Vine, and despite The Discourse raging on tumblr at the time, the humor on that app was still largely Mainstream and often racist.

I remember Teen Wolf, and Glee, Sherlock and Supernatural and Doctor Who. I remember the emergence of “Superwholock” and the sheer insufferableness of the fandom before they eventually, blessedly died out. I remember the disappearance of shows like J*njou R*omantica and the rise of shows like Free! and Yuri on Ice!!!, Modern “woke” animes that still featured vapid, cliché-driven writing, with Modern “woke” audiences that were puerile-minded and cliché-hungry as ever, the same y*oi fangirls as those that had existed in the early 2010s, only now the shows had done away with the nasty R*pe-As-Romance and replaced it with cringey, ham-fisted pretenses of Realistic Psychology or Social Conscience. And I realized that anime fans my age weren’t worth their salt, and by that time I was too old for anime anyway so I finally dropped it. New animes have come and gone, new live action shows have come and gone, and all the same terrible fandom drama that has burned year after year regardless of show still burns. Same shit, different sewer.

I remember how different online culture was for teens a decade ago. I remember how different real life was for teens a decade ago. Everything has changed so much in the past decade. Teens were children when I was teen. Now, ten years later, teens are like miniature adults, thinking and speaking maturely, socially and politically conscious, wise beyond their years. Racism is acknowledged for the evil it is, and bigoted trolls are no longer socially accepted. When I was a teen, been an edgelord was in, and kids like me who were unusually conscientious were labeled Babies and Oversensitive whenever something didn’t sit right and we voiced objections. Anons telling people to kill themselves was routine. People were violent and ruthless online, and the culture was truly reminiscent of The Lord of The Flies, a cutthroat free-for-all among girls and boys of all ages.

But not anymore: as people keep saying these days, being an Asshole is Out, being Kind is In. Shit like H*zbin H*tel, that would’ve been immensely popular ten years ago, is acknowledged for the violent, vile crap it is. And the language around sexuality and gender has changed so drastically, and has opened up so much. There was no trans content a decade ago in fandom, and Gender-bending, when done to explore the social ramifications of a character as the “opposite gender” (because nothing outside the gender binary existed as far as fandom was then concerned), and not just for titillation, was always cisgendered and done by way of Alternate Universes.

I had a miserable experience as a teen, and I wish that I could have experienced this kind of environment in my formative years rather than the one I did. But although I never did, I am so happy for the teens of today, that they are able to experience this kind of social openness, that they can experience this kind of unity and conscientiousness that exists in a way it never did before. That, even with as bleak and awful as the world is, they are fighting to make it better for themselves. Because it really was them that changed it.

Because, as much as Millennials like to pretend otherwise, we didn’t make the internet culture what it is today, We were edgy shitlord brats who loved laughably bad media, whether it was edgy and featured protagonists who murdered for fun, or maudlin and featured Mary Sue protagonists. We had flame wars over who was “uke or seme” for characters that weren’t even gay. We were nasty piss-stains, and even the teens like me who were better than the rest still had our awful moments. I’ve done and said things as a teen that I’m ashamed of, and no amount of nostalgia can change the fact that fandom and the media it consumed was objectively awful a decade ago. And though “Fandom Moms” and other nasty, disgusting, overgrown-children may be a proud bastion and defenders of the Old Ways, reminiscing about their LiveJournal Days and telling themselves their age is somehow indicative of wisdom rather than how creepy and pathetic they really are, their days are numbered, and I can’t wait to see their +30yo asses slowly die out in the face of progress.

#personal #''Old Radio'' is a good song tho. Kaito was def my favorite as a teen.

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rcmclachlan · 7 years

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FIC: Pulling Apart Miracles (Otayuri pre-slash)

This was meant to be a 5 Times Otabek Kissed Yuri and the 1 Time Yuri Kissed Him fic, but I’ve been such a slouch in the writing department lately. I doubt I’ll ever finish it, although you never know!

I decided to post the first part (”forehead kiss”), which can stand on its own, so here y’all go:

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Yuri mumbles into the thing he’s lying on. He’s almost positive he’s still in the bathroom stall, so it might be the toilet seat. With his luck it’s the floor. It doesn’t matter, not when it’s so cool against his burning cheek that it’s completely worth every strain of hepatitis he’s getting from it. “I’m here to win a gold medal and fight crime.”

“Yakov is looking for you.”

“Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Victor and Katsuki are looking for you, too.”

“Tell them I’m dead.”

“Not too far from the truth, by the looks of it.”

“How dare you. I’m perfect. I’m in my prime. I'm—ugh, hang on—” It’s only by dredging the bottomless depths of his determination, the cold runoff from the wellspring at the summit of Spite Mountain, that he manages to get his face practically inside the toilet before the next bout of nausea hits like a freight train.

To his credit, Otabek says nothing, just waits patiently for Yuri to finish puking before attempting to appeal to Yuri’s better judgment. “You’re not going out there like this.”

“That your professional opinion, Dr. Altin?” He means for it to be positively dripping with bile, gone rough and sharp, the words eaten through with stomach acid. And they are. Literally. He spits out a chunk of something that might be tomato and then flails for the roll of toilet paper hanging on the wall next to him so he can wipe his chin.

Otabek takes a careful step forward. “Yura.”

“Don’t Yura me,” Yuri whines through clenched teeth, wuffing helplessly, mouth filling so quickly with saliva that he feels like he’s drowning. He spits it into the toilet. He read somewhere that if you swallow spit when you’re nauseated it’ll actually make you throw up more. “I worked too long and too hard for this, and I’m not about to let a little stomach bug that I probably picked up from some moron who couldn’t be bothered to wash their hands get in the way of a win. I’m reaching for the fucking stars.”

“Can you even stand?”

“… Yes.”

“Prove it and I’ll make sure no one stops you from getting to the ice,” Otabek says, and Yuri doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that Otabek has that look on his face, the one that’s barely a look at all: an impenetrable castle with time-worn stone, overgrown with ivy and moss. It’s unnerving as hell and never fails to fill Yuri with vicious glee to see it turned onto lesser mortals, but this time it’s on him and that rankles enough to spur him into motion.

“Fine.” He pushes himself up and carefully gets to his feet, then, smarmily, throws his arms out wide. “See? Drink it in, asshole.”

Otabek says nothing for a long moment. “You didn’t do anything.”

It takes a second for the words to sink in, but before he can muster the energy to punch Otabek for impugning his honor, Yuri realizes that he’s still on the floor, head in the toilet like he’s wearing the world’s most fucked-up hat. He tries to gather the strength he’s been working to gain for the last six months under Lilia’s terrifying tutelage and conquer the daunting task of pushing himself up, except his arms don’t so much as tense.

“Just throw me onto the ice,” Yuri whispers, squeezing his eyes shut against the first hot pinpricks of frustration that lurk just behind his lashes. “A belly flop from me is better than anyone else’s best short program.”

There’s a sudden, gentle hand on his back that feels like someone just plunked an elephant on top of him, and it hurts like nothing he’s ever felt and feels so good he almost thinks about just letting the tears come after all. He endures both an eternity and mere seconds of this before it disappears altogether. His mouth opens and a startled moan falls out.

Otabek murmurs, “When did it start?”

He can’t quite pin that down because there’s a weird moment after takeoff where time ceases to exist, but by the time his flight touched down at LaGuardia Yuri had been doggedly swallowing around the sour crackle in his jaw for what felt like hours, his skin a soaked canvas painted in whorls of fire and ice. He damn near killed some old bat on the skybridge in his haste to get to the bathroom just in time to be reacquainted with the in-flight meal—some roasted chicken thing that they served in a cardboard package. The tomato rice side was pretty decent, so of course that’s all he can fucking taste.

“I’m never flying KLM again.” His voice spirals tragically into the stratosphere and then splits on again. If Otabek doesn’t slam the toilet lid down on his neck right this second and end this humiliation, Yuri is cancelling their friendship. “I’m gonna send the CEO a glitter bomb. And then burn his house to the ground.”

“I’ll find the address for you,” Otabek says, and it’s the click and flare of fire underneath a pot of cold water, a simmer slow to start but bringing with it the promise of boiling over. Yuri’s never seen Otabek angry, but he knows when it happens it’ll leave him absolutely devastated in an impact crater of his own making. It’s always the quiet ones. Look at Seung-gil. That kid is a serial killing spree waiting to happen.

Yuri’s eyes are burning. He closes them in search of a moment of respite from this complete and utter shitshow, and tries again. “The season’s just starting and I have to go on, Beka. If I don’t, I’m out. You, Victor, and Katsudon are all competing and I can't—after all of this fucking shit, I can’t not—”

Even if he wanted to bow out, he doesn’t know how. Every trace of acceptance has been beaten out of him, so much that even the muscle memory’s atrophied to nothing. He’s a creature comprised entirely of sharp angles and grit, created in the image of a woman who is a walking, talking steak knife, and he’s not about to dull his edges just because he didn’t go with the vegetarian option.

Nothing short of death is stopping him from going out there, and even then he’s sure he could finagle something.

“No one would think badly of you if you—”

“I would think fucking badly of me, and my opinion is the only one I care about,” he snarls, then lets out a truly horrifying whimper. The worst of the nausea has passed, but he’s going to throw up. “I didn’t mean that.”

He never does. Sometimes the words come faster than he can think to stop them, more barbed than he wants, dripping with blood he didn’t intend mean to draw, but by that point it doesn’t matter because no one in their right mind is going to stick around to search through a steaming pile of shit in hopes of finding a flower.

“I know what you meant,” Otabek says.

It’s thrown down like a winning card hand, like fire from on high, and for a split second Yuri is so thrown by the sheer indelibility of it that he can’t see for the slant of the sun in his eyes while Park Güell hides them from the world. Are we going to be friends or not?

There are words he should be saying to express the sheer gratitude he feels that Otabek is here, is in his life at all, and they might all taste like tomato-flavored vomit but they’d be something, and if Otabek deserves anything it’s that. Instead, they sit pretty in the back of his throat and hold onto his tongue for dear life, which, fuck, no, they have to let go so he can tell Otabek, so Otabek knows—

Tears burn at the corners of his eyes, rough-riding the sudden wave of frustration at his inability to act like the fucking person he wants to be for Otabek Altin. The flower hiding in the pile of shit.

Otabek just exhales, long and low, and murmurs, “Okay.”

The world tilts suddenly, dangerously. Yuri’s stomach begins shouting “ALL HANDS ON DECK, WATCH YOUR SHOES” but he clenches his jaw and forces that shit back down, tucking his hot face into the place where Otabek’s throat meets his shoulder with a truly pathetic whine. Otabek lifts him like he weighs less than nothing. Yuri tries not to take it personally, on account of Otabek being a fucking terminator.

“Hey.” The shoulder Yuri’s nestled against rises and gently falls. “Lift up for second.”

“You lift up. I’m staying right here until you toss me into the rink. Hope you haven’t skipped arm day, asshole, because—”

Otabek doesn’t even give him a chance to finish the sentence, just bounces Yuri’s cheek with his shoulder because he was raised by wolves, grumbling something that sounds an awful lot like ‘don’t tempt me,’ and turns his head.

Every single thought leaves Yuri’s head as though they were woodland creatures fleeing from a forest fire set by a bunch of jackasses in the woods, except one stubborn bastard stands its ground:

No one’s lips should be this soft.

“My mom used to take our temperatures like this,” Otabek murmurs against Yuri’s forehead. “Said it worked better than any thermometer.”

Helplessly, Yuri’s hand slides up to grab a fistful of butter-soft leather. The ubiquitous motorcycle jacket shouldn’t be as much of a comfort as it is, but the storm churning in his gut settles just a very little bit at the feel of it. He draws a breath that rattles in his throat and tastes a little like puke, but there are notes of something wild in it—a lonely wind trying to catch up to a motorbike that seems to fly all on its own, or the thump of the bass buried beneath the layers of an unfinished song—that he savors like a stolen sip of someone else’s vodka. For a moment, his mind goes quiet.

“You don’t feel that warm.” The lips pressed to his skin curve up. “You’re good to go. That’s my professional opinion.”

The smell of the wind dissipates altogether from Otabek’s skin. Yuri opens his eyes, present and accounted for, and bites back a whimper at the sudden rush of something that feels like a chill, but isn’t. It’s as though his entire body has become a live wire, exposed and ready to blow. His skin prickles, cold, then hot, and he snaps, “Dr. Altin saves the day.”

“Good thing I’ll have something to fall back on if skating doesn’t work out.”

“Fix your sloppy fucking toe loops and you should be fine.” The thought of Otabek not being on the ice is a terrifying one. He wiggles a little until Otabek gingerly puts him down. When his skate guards hit the floor, Yuri wobbles, and for a second he thinks that gravity’s going to add insult to injury by pushing him just enough for him to crumble to the ground, but he locks his knees and holds steady.

Stepping back, Otabek doesn’t say anything, but Yuri can practically hear the gears turning behind that controlled front—which he suspects is hiding secret mind-reading abilities—while he cycles through every possible response. But every response is the wrong one, and Otabek isn’t stupid. So he doesn’t say anything, just gives a shrug and gestures to the door.

“If Victor and the pig are waiting out there—”

“I’ll run interference for you,” Otabek says, and the hell of it is he would, too. “Go rinse out your mouth. Your breath smells like death.”

“I’ll vom on everything you love,” Yuri vows, but he wobbles over to the sink. Against the back of his throat, the cold water feels like the first push off on fresh ice. He spits, then splashes water over his cheeks and chin, and carefully avoids his forehead.

Otabek hands him a fistful of paper towels, then gestures to his own chest. “You have a little…”

“There are so many rhinestones on this fucking thing that no one will ever see it through the glare,” Yuri mutters, drying his face and then dabbing at his chest. “If you ever tell anyone about this, I swear to god I’ll put sugar in your gas tank.”

The unimpressed tilt of Otabek’s eyebrow speaks volumes and Yuri averts his eyes to the crumbled paper towels in his hand, a little ashamed. If there’s one thing he’s learned since they watched the sunset on the top of the world, it’s that Otabek Altin is ride or die to the very end.

Pressing his lips together to prevent anything stupid from falling out—like an apology, or a plea for Otabek to bring his mouth back, but lower—Yuri tosses the paper towels in the trash and then holds out his arms, presenting himself for inspection. A rumbling threat of backflow stirs in his belly, but it turns out to be a little burp. He holds it in. “Well?”

Mila once joked that Otabek’s superpower is to “look at the hell out of things” and she wasn’t wrong. The first time that stare was leveled at him, he was completely unprepared: his legs shook, his heartbeat kicked into double time, and all sound seemed to disappear. In all honesty, he thought he was having a stroke. But then the weight was suddenly sliding away like a shadow, leaving him oddly bereft as the weird hot guy with the thousand-laser stare blinked, looked elsewhere, and walked away. A punch to the jaw would’ve been easier to take.

It’s been ages since, but the effects haven’t lessened with time. Even now, Otabek’s gaze is the slow, considering drag of a storm, towing the line where a harmless breeze gives way to a writhing, spinning hunger. Yuri loves storms; loves the sheer scale of them, the unpredictability, the unapologetic hunger that tears at the very fabric of the world. A storm doesn’t hesitate. A storm doesn’t say sorry, and it isn’t weak, except when it is, and even then it’s unstoppable. In another life he’d be chasing them, flaying them open to learn their secrets and devouring whatever he found.

The smile Otabek gives him is small but heartfelt, because he hasn’t given Yuri proof that he knows any other kind. It feels like the bone-rattling promise of a supercell.

“Perfect.”

Otabek isn’t a storm to be hunted. He isn’t a mystery; as the first person who’s ever voluntarily stuck around for Yuri, he’s a miracle. And you don’t pull those apart to try and find the center. You just be grateful that they happened at all.

“Wonderful,” Yuri snaps, cheeks warm. “Time to blow minds.”

“And not chunks.”

It’s only by the grace of Otabek’s Terminator reflexes that he manages to easily sidestep the punch that Yuri aims at his face.

#otayuri #pre-slash #otp: the brat and the android #wip wednesday #abandoned work (for now)#yuri on ice

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askdawnandvern · 7 years

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A Lamb Among Wolves: Ch 18

his is quite possibly the longest chapter I've ever written. Longer than anything in "The Rehabilitation of Dawn Bellwether" and any of the chapters in this story as of yet. Initially it was supposed to be combined with the previous chapter, but once how saw how long it was getting I had to break it up. Even this is pushing it at 25 pages, but I felt it couldn't be split up anywhere else. This chapter had a bit of last minute tweaking done with some help from my Patreons, so that it felt more natural and realistic. I really have to thank them for their help, and continue to support me as I write this and create other stuff. If you are interested in early access stuff and being part of out little book club, you can check out my patreon. Every little bit helps keep the stories and art coming!

(If you are interested in commissions, contact via PM for pricing and availability.)

https://www.patreon.com/wastedtimeee

-WT

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Chapter Eighteen: Of Old Flames and Funnel Cakes

Stress, fear, anxiety and woe. Since Vernon had arrived at his family home just two days ago those feelings had never strayed too far away from him. It had managed to make the relatively short time spent at the Hunter Ranch feel like an eternity. For every little glimmer of hope, every ounce of promise, for every little bit of joy, there managed to be something that came along and ripped it away from him. His Father's attitude, Yuri's crude and tasteless sense of 'humor', Zach agreeing with Dorian about the couple staying away from the fair. All of it had been twisting the wolf's insides further and further. Each act adding to the growing sense of dread and misery in the wolf faster than the rest of his more accepting family members could ease it. But finally, for the first time since he had arrived in the North Meadowlands, Vernon was actually having great time.

It had been hours now since he and Dawn had first set out with the goal of making their date at the fair the best it could possible be. The sun had shifted from the edge of the horizon to far overhead, their shadows tapering to little more than a concentrated blot beneath their feet. Despite the intensity of the noon day rays against Vernon's fur, the wolf could feel a wavering in its strength. The warmth of the summer sun finally beginning to wither away before the growing chill of the autumn air. It struggled against the cool breeze, at least keeping it warm enough not to need a jacket, but thankfully beaten down enough by the cool air to keep the fair grounds from being stifling.

From her perch atop the wolf's shoulders, Dawn had lead the charge in the couple's desperate need for fun and relief from the family reunion. The ewe was unusually exuberant, excitement lacing her every statement as the couple began to meander through the crowds of mammals. Her rising excitement had the wolf grinning stupidly in mere seconds after she had started. It became clear very quickly to Vernon that the sheep hadn't been to anything like a fair or amusement park in ages. It shone in her childlike wonder and glee as she stared in awe at the variety of attractions. Much like the excitable fox who had left for the rides just before them, the ewe was pointing from ride to ride as she struggled to settle on what to go on first. Each decisive and final choice turning on a dime as she spotted yet another new ride she hadn't seen.

It was Vernon who ultimately became the deciding factor of their first ride together. Dawn had been in the middle of listing off several different choices before she evidently remembered that she was with someone. Vernon stifled a laugh as Dawn suddenly froze mid sentence, glancing down at the wolf she had been clutching on to so tightly.

"V-vernon I'm so sorry." The ewe began to blush. "I was so overwhelmed by all the rides I didn't even think to a-ask you."

Vernon flashed her a warm smirk. After such a hard start to the day, nothing could make the wolf feel better than seeing his mate brimming with excitement and joy.

"W-what do you think we should ride?" Dawn asked, squeezing his shoulders a bit as she leaned further over his head.

"Welp..." Vernon scratched his chin. "Since I was a little pup, every year when the fair came around the first thing I'd ride was the merry go round." The wolf shrugged slightly, causing the ewe seated on his shoulders to rise and fall with his motion. "I guess it sort of became a tradition of mine."

"Well then, no sense in breaking tradition." Dawn smiled widely.

Turning her attention back to the fair around her, the ewe stabbed a finger in the direction of the ride.

"Onward, my valiant Puppy!" Dawn giggled as she spoke, squeezing his shoulder tightly with her one hoof still holding on.

The line for the ride was short, which Vernon had expected. It was never the most popular ride in the fair, but it still was one of his favorites. As they entered the ride the Vernon found himself overwhelmed with the sudden feeling of nostalgia as he spied over the various seats. The finely polished and colorful exotic birds looked as though they hadn't aged since his childhood. Cockatoos, parrots, parakeets and even a massive toucan pulling a chariot made for an amazing display of bright and tantalizing colors, which only became more entrancing as the ride was in motion. Vernon stopped briefly as he passed a familiar old macaw with a chip in it's beak, gently rubbing a paw across its smooth surface as memories came flooding back.

The wolf had neglected to tell Dawn how such a gentle, slow paced ride became the favorite of a young, excitable wolf pup. But the last thing Vernon wanted to do was ruin the mood they had just struggled to get back into by bringing up painful memories. Yet as he glanced into the shining eye of the old macaw he couldn't help but recall his countless rides on its back. How many times he held his paws tightly around it's neck, staring up at the sky and wishing the old bird would take off into it. Flying the young wolf away from his troubles. Away from losing Dawn, away from his anger at the world, away from all of it. The wolf shook his head as he drew his paw back from the bird, worried that lingering any longer would prompt his mate to question why. Those memories were long gone, and now his ewe was back. It wasn't worth ruining the date to mourn what could have been.

Naturally Vernon opted for the chariot, the only double-seater on the ride, and the perfect place to enjoy the experience with Dawn. The wolf made a dash for the seat, fearful that another fairgoer would nab it despite the lack of riders. Once he had staked his claim, he eased the ewe off of his shoulders and onto the seat before taking a spot next to her.

He watched the ewe put her hooves on her knees, leaning forward as she waited excitedly for the ride to begin. Vernon in turn simply leaned back against the hard wood of the seat back, leaning one of his arms on the side edge of the chariot as he watched her. The wolf couldn't help but admire her sheer joy. She was clearly putting in the effort of forgetting everything in favor of just having a good time, and if she had any lingering thoughts or doubts, it certainly wasn’t showing.

As the ride jolted to a start, he watched the sheep jump slightly in surprise and couldn't help but chuckle. Dawn flashed the wolf a dour frown.

"What?" She asked.

Vernon shook his head dismissively. "Nothin' Darlin'."

The ewe leaned back as the ride began to pick up speed, but her eyes remained on the wolf.

"C'mon Vernon, what?" This time a giggle escaped at the end of her sentence.

"Yer just so darn adorable. I can barely stand it." The wolf said, a goofy grin crawling across his face.

"VeeEERNoooOOON!" Dawn whined, giving the wolf a playful slap.

"Yer only making it worse." The wolf chuckled.

"So are you!" Dawn blushed, placing her hooves over her muzzle. The ewe slid slightly away from Vernon as she eyed the wolf warily. "Y-you don't smell it do you?"

Vernon crooked an eyebrow. "The pheromones or the-?"

"Yes, my pheromones." Dawn replied.

Vernon leaned near the sheep, taking a good hard whiff of the air around her. It was there, sure. But it was barely noticeable over the fading scent of his Mother's perfume.

"Perfume's doing its job." Vernon stated.

"G-good." Dawn gave a shaky reply as she placed her hooves back on the seating. She was quiet for a moment as Vernon kept watching her. Clearly there was more on her mind.

"A-and the perfume isn't too b-bad now?" Dawn asked timidly, twiddling her hooves nervously as she spoke.

Vernon chuckled, but instead of giving her a reply the wolf simply pulled her close to his side. The ewe resisted for a moment, but in the end she gave in, allowing herself to lean against his chest as the ride continued to whirl around them. Once Vernon heard her let out a contented sigh, the wolf slacked his grip, allowing his arm to hang loosely against her.

"This answer yer question Honey Lamb?" Vernon asked.

He felt the sheep nod affirmatively against his side, placing a hoof on his chest as she continued to lean against him.

"Good." Vernon rubbed Dawn's shoulder gently. "Now let's just enjoy ourselves."

The rest of the morning would go more or less the same, the ewe only seeming to worry about her scent more than anything else. Her pheromones had spiked a few times as they moved from ride to ride, but it had managed to be nothing the wolf couldn't endure. And as the day progressed the wolf could feel himself growing more and more at ease. His stress, his doubts, all of them were rapidly falling away as he enjoyed being with the one he loved, the two just having mindless fun as they experienced the excitement of the fair together. The teacups, the spinning swings, the funhouse, the bumper cars, with each attraction the wolf’s troubles felt more and more distant. The misery the weekend had been causing him become more and more obscured as his date reinforced and strengthened the whole reason he had come to the reunion in the first place, to simply show Dawn a good time. And with every smile, giggle, and hug from the petite ewe, the wolf’s heart swelled with love.

Now that lunch had rolled around the wolf was practically back to his old self, strolling lazily across the fair grounds with Dawn holding his paw tightly as they walked together. The only thing left nagging him was the lingering embarrassment of accidentally taking a bite out of Dawn’s hair instead of the cotton candy they had bought to split. He made the mistake of not looking down when she had held the staff of spun sugar up for him, instead staring off at the next attraction he had his heart set on riding with his date.

Vernon let out another quiet whine as the memory replayed in his head.

“Vernon stop.” The wolf turned his attention to the small sheep at his side.

“What?” Vernon asked.

“You’re still thinking about the cotton candy.” Dawn eyelids drooped as she stared at him.

The wolf scratched the back of his head, flashing an uneasy smile.

“You could tell huh?” Vernon muttered.

“Vernon. It’s fine.” Dawn laughed, running a hoof through the fluffy mane that Vernon had coined her nickname from before placing it against her hip. “You barely bit into it before you realized what was wrong. You didn’t even pull any wool out.” Dawn let out a sigh. “Trust me, it’s not the first time someone tried to eat my wool.” Dawn let out a sigh.

Vernon eyed the ewe curiously. “Oh really?”

The ewe blushed slightly, letting out an awkward cough.

“W-well you know, college.” Dawn murmured. “A lot of mammals experimented with hallucinogens and stuff. Yellow lichen gum was a big hit on campus.” Dawn place her hoof over her face. “So when you have a mare for a roommate who’s very into hallucinogens, you find yourself waking up to a horse slobbering on your head a fairly often.” Dawn sighed.

Vernon let out a barking laugh.

“You can’t be serious!” The wolf choked through his laughter.

The ewe let out an exasperated sigh. “At least cotton candy was actually involved this time around.”

The wolf smirked. “And in my defense, they did go out of their way to make it look like you.”

“Oh yeah.” Dawn laughed. “There’s something very comforting about a cotton candy stand run by coyotes who craft the cotton candy to look like cartoon sheep heads.” The ewe shook her head. “I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that I was eating a crude replica of my own head, or you were.”

Vernon flashed the ewe a half lidded stare, a mischievous grin crossing his muzzle.

“Well, I do love to eat you Honey Lamb.” Vernon chuckled. “Granted it ain’t exactly the same thing, but it certainly is tasty.”

Vernon had barely finished his statement before Dawn abruptly released her tight grip on his paw. Blushing intensely, the ewe took a few steps away from the wolf, clasping her hooves over her muzzle.

“VERNON!” She hissed, her tone was stern but it wavered, the lamb clearly attempting to keep from laughing. “You are KILLING me! I can’t take this today!”

Vernon let out a soft chuckle. “Sorry Mutton Chop, I keep forgetting.”

The ewe wiped a hoof across her brow, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“At least that means the perfume is doing its job.” Dawn sighed. “But that doesn’t make it any easier for me! You have to cut down on the flirting.”

Vernon placed his paws in his pockets, looking down at the worn dirt path beneath his feet. The wolf idly kicked a small stone, glancing back at Dawn occasionally with a pair of wide, sorrowful eyes. It was all an act of course; the wolf wasn’t quite done teasing his mate. But he knew his weaponized ‘Puppy Eyes’ were the best in his arsenal when it came to flustering Dawn.

“Oh Puppy no!” Dawn immediately scolded. "Don't you give me that look!"

“I-I’m sorry Floofs, I-“ Vernon suppressed the urge to smirk, holding steadfast in his mock frown.” I just love ya so much, I can’t help myself sometimes.”

“You already have me!” Dawn chuckled. “You don’t have to flirt anymore!”

Vernon broke his sad façade for a moment, flashing the ewe a brief smirk.

“Where’s the fun in that?” The wolf replied.

“OHH!” Dawn huffed. “ Mean, MEAN wolf!"

Vernon slipped back into his dejected stance, making his eyes as wide a he could and feigning a sniffle.

"A-aw, now ya gone and hurt me Dawn." Vernon whimpered. "Cut me deep."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the ewe's frustrated face, but he could also see a hint of worry, part of her clearly wasn't sure if she had really hurt him, and Vernon was ready to continue to play on it to get one up on her.

"V-vernon!" She stammered. "S-stop, please!"

"I just wanted to have a good time with ya." Vernon whimpered. "Now I got ya scolding me for showin' ya how much I love ya."

"Y-you are still toying with me aren't you?" Dawn sputtered. Vernon could tell her resolve was weakening.

Vernon slackened his stance further, his ears flattening against his head as he stared back at the ewe.

Dawn's own protective stance seemed to shrink, and her muzzle twisted into a worried frown.

"Oh...oh Vernon." She murmured. "I-I'm sorry. I am, really." The ewe took a careful step closer, all the while the wolf kept up his sorrowful act, waiting for the chance to strike.

"I love your flirting, r-really." She continued. "I mean I love when w-we flirt together. B-but you have to understand why that's n-not so easy to deal with today."

Of course Vernon knew better, he had some idea what the 'itch' was like. But the opportunity to tease was simply too good to pass up. If they had been back in Zootopia, the little problem with Dawn's pheromones would have been something they would have been able to deal with swiftly, several times in one evening. The wolf would have been eager to make sure his ewe spent the week walking funny rather then frustratingly stewing in her own wool. And, as much of a risk as it was just getting too strong a whiff of her scent, another part of Vernon was compelled to drink deeply of it. The intoxicating aroma of Dawn's natural scent was something the wolf had become addicted to, and he had never smelled it as strongly as it had been that morning. He knew it was wrong, that it would be torture for the both of them, but his need of that familiar flowery and fruity scent he had grown to love was getting the best of him.

The wolf gave a somber nod, keeping his attention mostly to the ground as the ewe took another cautious step toward him. Glancing up at the timid ewe, Vernon turned up the heat by adding a quivering pout to his deadly Puppy eyes. It was nearly time to strike, he just needed her to fully let her guard down.

"Oh Vernon, please." Dawn sighed, opening her arms wide as she gestured the wolf toward her. "I'm sorry."

The wolf dropped his false pout in favor of a devious smile as he sprung his trap. Lurching forward, the wolf snapped the ewe up into his arms and pulled her tightly against his chest. He had taken her by surprise so well she hadn't even fully registered what was going on until she was firmly pressed against his plaid shirt.

"V-Vernon! WHA-NO!" The ewe sputtered, squirming wildly as the wolf held her tightly. With his prey properly restrained, he was free to torture her just a little bit more, even though in a way it was torture for the both of them. Vernon placed his muzzle firmly against the poof of her wool, burying it all the way through to Dawn's scalp.

"Y'know that wool was surprisingly tasty. I may need a few more nips!" Vernon laughed.

"NOOoooOOO!" Dawn whined, still frantically wriggling as Vernon began to plant kisses all over the top of her head. With each quick, tiny peck the wolf could hear a giggle force it's way through Dawn's protests. Eventually the ewe gave up on fighting to get free, and Vernon could feel her hooves pushing against his neck as the wolf continued his assault. She was desperately trying to push him back, but she didn't stand a chance. The wolf had no plans of letting her go until he was good and ready. Another few playful kisses and the wolf got a slight whiff of what he was searching for, that familiar aroma just barely rising over the withering scent of his Mother's perfume. Vernon took a deep breath as he moved in for another kiss, closing his eyes as he relished in the smell for a moment.

However, his trajectory had been slightly off, and in the haze of the ewe's delicious odor, the wolf had sort of forgotten exactly what he was doing. It was only when his teeth found a soft, playful purchase on the rim of one of the ewe's ears did Dawn manage to drag him out of his growing cloudy, dream-like state.

"V-Vernon." The wolf felt one of Dawn's hooves paw at his chest feebly. Her voice had shifted from playfully irritance, to worrying, to an almost pleaful tone. And simultaneously, as her wilted plea reached the wolf's ears, he was hit was a powerful blast of pheromones. It was enough to make the wolf reel back slightly, shocked by just how potent he had managed to make it with such little effort. Either the perfume was rapidly losing strength, or he just hadn't managed to get her that riled up all morning.

Vernon quickly placed the ewe down, and Dawn quickly darted a few steps away from him. Dawn was blushing furiously, but Vernon knew he was looking just as bad.

The wolf scratched the back of his head, letting out an awkward cough as he tried to distract himself by staring at the nearest ride or stand he could find.

"S-sorry Darlin'." Vern muttered. "I-uh..."

He suddenly felt the ewe's hooves push at his waist, causing him to stumble back slightly. Dawn was glaring at him, cheeks flushed with red and puffed out in annoyance.

"I'm going to remember this!" She hissed. " I'm going to get you back later, I swear!" Dawn pouted.

Vernon couldn't help but laugh, it was clear he had embarrassed her. But her stern scolding carried with it a hint of vague playfulness, as if whatever evil scheme she was cooking up she was anticipating with glee.

"D-don't worry about that too much Honey Lamb." Vernon sighed. "Trust me, that was more painful for me t-than I thought it would be." The wolf let out a weak, faltering chuckle.

Dawn stabbed finger into the wolf's chest poking him several times.

"Oh no, that's not enough!" She huffed. "We're in public!" The sheep said, glancing over her shoulders warily. Placing a paw to her muzzle, she lowered her tone to a whisper. "I don't need all the rams here knowing I'm in season!" Dawn whined quietly. "I-It's...personal."

Vernon nodded meekly.

"I-I'm real sorry Floofs." Vernon said, leaning down to Dawn's level. The wolf had to stop himself from placing his paws on her shoulders. The last thing he wanted to do was possibly make it worse.

"I-it's okay." Dawn mumbled, twisting a hoof awkwardly into the dirt. "I-I'm not mad, I'm just embarrassed."

The wolf nodded solemnly.

" I didn't really think about the other mammals pickin' up on that smell before. I promise I'll try to hold back on the flirting and the huggin' and stuff." Vernon said, offering a weak smile.

"W-well." Dawn twiddled her hooves nervously. "D-don't hold back too much okay?"

Vernon chuckled. "Alright Honey Lamb, you got it."

As the wolf rose to his feet, he felt the ewe give him another light shove.

"I'm still going to get you back though!" Dawn whined.

Vernon let out a loud barking laugh. "Alright, alright, you'll get your shot. I've still got a lot planned out today."

"On top of all this?" Dawn asked. "We've already covered half the fair!"

"And I intend to cover the other half." Vernon replied, flashing Dawn a wide grin. "I'm going to make sure we at least get around to the tunnel of love today."

"ARE YOU CRAZY!?" Dawn yelped before clasping a hoof over her muzzle in surprise of herself. "T-there's no way I can do that right now. I'm feeling so-"

Vernon placed his paws out protectively. "Easy, easy there Floofs. Not right now of course." The wolf chuckled. " Gotta let ya cool down a bit first."

"But Vernon, are you sure it's really a good id-?"

"Dawn we ain't bunnies." Vernon replied. "We ain't gonna come out of that tunnel with twenty kids. The perfume is working well enough, and I'd like to think you feel I got some sense of self control."

The ewe gave a slow, wary nod.

"O-okay..." Dawn relented. "B-but way later. Like at the end of the day."

"You got it." Vernon affirmed.

As the wolf started to make his way back into the crowd, he felt Dawn's hoof find his paw again.

"S-so is that everything?" Dawn asked.

"Heck no." Vernon said, his voice practically singing with excitement. "When were finished at the fair, you and me are gonna have a nice, quiet picnic in the fields back home. Just the two of us."

"R-really? You planned that too?" Dawn pressed.

"Yeah, I already set aside a little care package of pies and other stuff at the house. I bet you were wondering why we hadn't had any of Ma's free food yet?" Vernon grinned down at the ewe.

"Actually I did find it odd you insisted we split cotton candy and funnel cakes for lunch. I mean that's barely food." Dawn tutted.

"Yep, all part of my master plan." Vernon beamed. "I'll make the hot corn right out there, and we'll have pie and all sorts of other goodies. Then we can watch the stars come out, just like I used to when I was a Pup."

"Oh Vernon." Dawn cooed. "T-that sounds wonderful. You planned all this out ahead of time?"

Vernon's grin just grew wider. "About a week before we had the trip pinned down Floofs. I'm going to make this the best weekend of our lives, family or not."

The wolf's eyelids drooped slightly as a mischievous smile returned to his muzzle.

"And you can get me back all you want when we're out there." The wolf cooed. "And if you get a little frisky, well we can take care of that too my little Honey Lamb."

"VEEERNOOON!" Dawn whined, the blush returning to her muzzle as she playfully slapped at him. Vernon couldn't help but chuckle to himself, it was far to easy to fluster the lamb. And it was something he was sure he'd never get tired of.

"Wait Vernon!?" A voice rang out, a familiar voice that reflexively caused Vernon's ears to sag and his muzzle to twist into a sharp grimace.

"Vernon Hunter!? OH EM GOODNESS! I can't BELIEVE THIS!" No, it couldn't be. She couldn't be here. Vernon felt a hard lump form in his throat.

'She moved away.' Vernon thought to himself. 'Zach told me she moved far away!' The wolf was frozen stock still, his body fighting to turn in the direction the call had come from, but his mind too fearful to confirm his suspicions.

"Yoo-hoo? You go deaf Scrappy?" There it was, the last painful bit of confirmation the wolf needed to know exactly who was calling out to him. That nickname had been exclusively used by only one wolf in his entire life, tied up neatly with a chunk of his past that the wolf had tried so desperately to forget. Vernon cursed silently to himself as he turned to face the music.

The wolf kept his gaze low, first eyeing the now very confused looking ewe by his side. But as he dragged his sight-line up he eventually met the gaze of the one other wolf aside from Yuri he could have happily gone the rest of his life without ever seeing again. His ex-mate from High School, Anabelle Windpaw.

It was almost surprising how little the red wolf had changed since he had seen her last. While the couple had long since broken up by the end of high school, she continued to make herself a presence in Vernon's life right up until graduation. Each tedious and irritating encounter went more or less the same. The she-wolf would 'randomly' run into Vernon when she happened to be with her newest boy toy. She would flaunt his prowess and superiority while simultaneously belittling Vernon's weakness and overall failure to keep her. At least that how she liked to tell it, whether you wanted to hear it or not.

Despite getting slightly taller, the fiery red and creamy tan fur was still just as he remembered it. The same went for the several garish 'traditional' Canidean feather earrings the she-wolf had strewn about her ears. She even still wore the same faded red vinyl jacket, with the same patches and runes related to 'native wolf' culture that Vernon was certain she didn't know the actual meaning of. Of course her outfit wasn't complete without her professionally 'worn' clothing. Her faded blue jeans with precision tears made by mechanized hands, and a tee-shirt that simply said 'wolf pack' made to look as though it had been through several hundred washes, although the wolfess had probably bought it yesterday. She had always called the style 'distressed', which to Vernon translated to 'clothing that looks like it would be in a thrift shop, but sold for three times the price.'

But the thing that really made the wolf feel as though he was staring directly into his own past, that made his stomach lurch, was that same smug and self-righteous grin she always wore. Her green eyes gleaming with mischief despite conveying a half lidded disinterest. In that moment, Vernon felt like he was in High School all over again.

"Ana." Vernon grumbled through clenched teeth.

The she-wolf let out a laugh.

"What are the odds I'd run into you of all mammals out here!" She grinned. "Last I heard you ran off to Zootopia with your tail between your legs because you couldn't cut it as a cop."

The second sentence out of her mouth, that had to be a new record for the she-wolf. Usually she at least tried to keep up the pretense of a casual conversation for a few minutes before starting to tear into him. It was clear she had been honing her skills with time. Vernon let out a harsh sigh before turning on the sarcastic pleasantries.

"Ana, and here I thought you had become a professional drifter, moving from town to town to find the biggest, toughest wolf you could to suck dry before dumping him for the next hapless sap." The wolf retorted, flashing a fake smile.

Ana simply chuckled in response.

"Those of us who are proud of our heritage call that being nomadic. It's in a wolf's blood. Not that I'd expect you to know anything about that." The she-wolf returned the false smile in kind. "Of course there's always something that draws us back home I suppose."

Before Vernon could fire off another biting comment, Ana cut him off.

"Oh, oh! I have to introduce you to my mate!" Ana said, turning to the crowd behind her.

"Ken, Ken Darling, come here! There is someone you have to meet!" She cooed.

There were roughly three or four wolves in the crowd behind her, but naturally the largest wolf was the one who stepped forward. His fur was pitch black, obscuring most of the features of his form while causing his green eyes and gleaming white fangs to stand out like stars against the night sky. Unlike Ana, this wolf was dressed to the nines, wearing a sleek grey suit and deep green tie. It appeared immaculately maintained and tailor fit, so much so that even Xavier's classiest attire would make him look like a pauper by comparison.

As the wolf casually approached the group, it became apparent that the wolf was even slightly taller than him, perhaps by one or two inches, and his shoulders just as wide as Vernon's. Everything about Ken's appearance made it perfectly clear why Ana chose him. He was an 'Alpha', and the aura around him practically screamed it from the heavens themselves.

"Vernon, this is Kendrick Loupon." Ana beamed, patting the wolf's broad chest gently as she leaned against it. "He's the Assistant Representative of the entirety of the Meadowlands. He works directly under Representative Damon Ruddy!" Looking up at the dark black wolf, Ana's smile was practically childlike. "He's a big mammal in the Meadowlands Community. Probably bigger than your old 'Mam."

Vernon sneered. The wolf had always been fine with Ana's usual superiority shtick, but when she brought his folks into the conversation it always got his hackles up.

Ana turned her attention back to Vernon, her smile twisting into a more venomous sneer.

"And Ken Darling, this is Vernon Hunter. It's probably quite hard to believe, but he was my mate back in High School. You know, before I discovered what true 'Alpha' wolves were like." Ana tutted. "He was lucky to have me for as long as he did."

"Ha, ha, ha." Vernon stated sarcastically. "Lucky is one interpretation, but I personally think 'cursed' is more appropriate wouldn't you say?"

Ken let out a deep throaty chuckle, extending a paw out to Vernon, but Ana caught his arm mid-way, pulling it back toward him.

"Oh Ken don't!" Ana laughed. " I'm pretty sure failure is contagious Darling. We don't need Vernon's weakness tainting someone of your stature."

Vernon let out a quiet growl as the large wolf eyed his mouthy mate with slight confusion.

"S-She's the ex you were talking about on the train?" Vernon heard Dawn whisper as she tugged at his paw.

"Unfortunately." Vernon muttered, briefly frowning down at the ewe.

"O-oh Mutton chops." Came her nearly inaudible reply.

Ana seemingly hadn't noticed their little exchanged, she was too focused on the story she was preparing to tell. Vernon had of course heard it all before, he imagined that the wolfess had it boiled down to bullet points by now, ready to prattle it off to her newest mate as her cautionary tale of choice.

"Oh wow, it's all coming right back." Ana cooed. " I can't tell you how many times old Scrappy over there failed to stick up for his mate and be a proper wolf."

"Scrappy?" Ken asked.

"That's was one of the nicknames I gave him." Ana flashed a smug grin Vernon's way. "Well, that's the most polite one anyway."

Vernon balled his free fist tightly as Ana let out another laugh.

"But I called him Scrappy because he lost most of the fights he got into. I swear, he was absolutely terrible in a brawl." Ana mused.

"That's because you got me into those fights." Vernon grumbled. "Very unnecessary fights. With mammals way larger than I was."

Ana dismissed his objections with a wave of her paw. "Oh please Vernon, it's not my fault you were such a coward you didn't want to stand up for me when other mammals had wronged me."

"Yeah, let's share some examples shall we?" Vernon growled. "How many times did you insult someone because they 'looked at you wrong', or how you 'heard they might of said something about you' when they never even met you." The wolf shook his head. "You never let anything go, and would goad mammals into a frenzy just to sic me on them. Yeah, but they wronged you."

"AHH!" Ana squealed with delight. "I just remembered that time with that brown bear. The look on your face when he had his jaw wrapped around you neck was absolutely priceless!"

Vernon uneasily groped at his throat as the memory came back to him. The wolf had never forgotten the feel of the angry bears incisors on his throat, the pressure of the teeth against his jugular.

"And surprise, surprise, you lost that one too." Ana teased.

"I also cut a scar across the poor fella's eye." Vernon grimaced. "He's still got that because of me, and I hate myself for it."

"Pft...so you gave him a scar. Big deal." Ana mocked.

"Nah, 'course it's no big deal." Vernon grumbled. " Would have been better if I killed him right? More 'Alpha'? More like a real wolf would have done?"

"Well, nothing says Alpha quite like a wolf whose spent some time in prison." Ana let out another long laugh before trailing of into a contented sigh.

"Just seeing you reminds me of how foolish I was when I was younger." Ana shook her head dismissively. " I was so naive when it came to picking wolves that were 'pack leader' material. So many disappointments, so many failures." The she-wolf glared at Vernon briefly before turning her attention back to Ken. "It took a wolf like Ken to show me what it means to be a true 'Alpha'." Ana cooed, gently pawing at Ken's chest appreciatively. The large wolf squirmed slightly, seemingly uncomfortable with the attention. Perhaps it came off a little too lurid for a public display.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Vernon spat, eager to push the conversation by as fast as possible.

Ana scoffed, rolling her eyes as she clutched back up against the towering wolf next to her.

"Oh, well if you must know. Ken has to be here because of his position in the community. He and Damon are going to be presiding over several very important Harvest Festival ceremonies and so he decided to take me along and turn it into a little date!" Ana cooed, patting Ken's chest gently.

"Yeah, I'd love to be wearing casuals right now." Ken said, scratching the back of his neck. "But technically I'm on official government business, at least part time, so I need to look the part." The wolf gently tugged at the collar of his suit. "To be honest it's a little stif-"

"He's also going to be presiding over several traditional Canidean wolf pack rites for the local native community." Ana cut the large wolf off, continuing her pitch.

"Did you know Ken is half native grey wolf? It's true, his Mother was part of a tribe on the West Coast before she moved to Zootopia." She smiled broadly. "He is very in touch with his cultural roots, and Ms. Loupon instilled a deep respect in him for our ancestors cultural practices."

"W-well I mean not all of them ar-"

"Yes, my mate truly is a perfect balance of a modern wolf, and a proud native warrior. A real Alpha male. A true Canidean wolf." Ana sighed dreamily before turning her attention back to Vernon. Her eyelids drooped as the smug grin returned to her muzzle. "Which is more than I could say for some of us here."

Vernon chuckled, surprised at just how thick the she-wolf was laying out her endless praises of the large, dark wolf. The wolf imagined it had been a long time since she had a good outlet to dump her insecurities on, and his presence gave her the perfect opportunity.

"Oh yeah." The wolf shook his head. "That's right, if I remember correctly the last native wolf in your family line was your great-great grandmother. So that would make you the least native mammal here by default."

That was the first time Vernon saw Ana's smug facade drop slightly. The wolfess grimaced briefly before turning her nose up at the wolf.

Satisfied he had hit his mark, Vernon continued. "Even so, not like that kind of thing was ever a big deal to me. Native, non-native, we're all wolves." It was an olive branch, one Vernon was sure that would ultimately be wasted. But at least he was attempting to turn the tone of the conversation to something less bitter and spiteful.

"Spoken like a true omega wolf." As expected, Ana was quick to toss that branch aside. "I swear if your family respected anything about their roots you would have been kicked out of your pack a long time ago."

Ana's eyes suddenly lit up with excitement. "Oh, is that why you're here? To plead with your Father to let you back into the family? To give you your name back? Are you just Vernon 'No last name given' now? Oh that wou-"

"W-what is your problem!?"

The sudden statement startled the wolf, but not because what was said, but rather who had said it. Looking down, the wolf found that Dawn had stepped forward slightly while still clasping his paw. Her other hoof was balled into a tight fist that matched his own. Ana seemed confused before discovering the voice had come from below her line of sight.

"E-excuse me?" Ana sputtered.

"Y-you heard me!" Dawn's voice waivered slightly, but ultimately remained stern.

"Why did you even bother us? It's clear you don't like Vernon so what was the point?" Dawn released her grip on Vernon's paw, taking another step toward the she-wolf. The ewe stood firm, her fists clenched as Vernon watched.

"Do you honestly have nothing better to do?" Dawn continued, her voice rising slightly. "Are y-you so childish that you need to validate yourself by seeking out a mammal you dated in High School just to put him down?"

The ewe pointed a finger at the bewildered she-wolf. "What was that, more than ten years ago? And your dwelling on it like it was yesterday? Is there nothing more going on in your life?"

The she-wolf was silent, merely blinking at the ewe in shock. It was clear Dawn had caught her off guard. But the lamb also managed to catch Vernon off guard as well. Dawn had made great strides in finding her own voice since the 'Zootopia's Last Night' affair. It was a change the wolf could see growing in her with each passing day. The way she carried herself, holding her head a bit higher than she used to. Standing up for herself more often. Vernon assumed that the close call she had suffered that week in the hospital had fundamentally changed her, like many others who have had close brushes with death.

However it was still surprising to the wolf to see the timid little ewe so boldly stand up to Ana, and it caused Vernon's heart to swell with pride and love. The wolf soon found himself returning the smug smile the same she-wolf had been previously wearing.

Ana tried to laugh, but a few coughs choked through it. It was clear the wolfess had lost some of her stride with Dawn's unexpected interjection.

"A-and what's this supposed to be?" Ana stuttered slightly as she gestured to the petite ewe. " Did I judge you too soon Scrappy? Is that a snack for later?"

Vernon crossed his arms, letting off a derisive huff.

"Heck no, that's vile." Vernon sneered.

Vernon watched as the she-wolf crouched down to Dawn's level, leaning close to the little sheep.

"You know another great thing Canidean wolves had right you little grazer?" Ana sneered, her eyes flicking between Dawn and Vernon as she spoke. " That the only use for a sheep was for clothing and food."

"Hey now-" Ken tried to interject, but Ana was on a roll.

"You know, I've been all over North Mammalia, and met all sorts of REAL native wolves." Ana hissed at Dawn. " I've even been to a few communes, waaaAAAaaay up north where they still see sheep as a hearty meal." Ana grinned broadly, leaning practically muzzle to muzzle with Dawn. Vernon couldn't see Dawn's reaction, but her legs were beginning to tremble. Whatever resolve the ewe had was being pushed to it's limit. "Once or twice, I've even had the pleasure of partaking in one of their traditional hunts, and the thrill of biting into a real rack of MUTTON!"

As she spat out the word mutton, she lunged forward causing Dawn to stagger backward slightly. Dawn looked back at Vernon fearfully for a moment, but rather than run back to his side she returned to her defiant stance.

"Ana please!" Ken raised his voice slightly, his eyes shifting across the various fair-goers. Vernon had nearly forgot about them in the heat of rising altercation, but it seemed they had yet to draw any attention from the passers by. "This is the Meadowlands Darling, please don't uses words like that around my constituants."

Ana let out a derisive snort as she eyed Ken briefly. Still Ana seemed pleased enough with the reaction she drew out of the sheep, the smug grin returning to her face. The she-wolf returned to her feet, taking her place back at Ken's side.

"Honestly it was a beautiful ritual, it's a shame more wolves don't honor their roots like that. Such a proud and visceral tradition ." Ana chuckled.

"Well native wolves had a lot of stupid traditions." Vernon chuckled. "That's why all those tribes have practically died out. In another fifty years or so those die hard packs will be nothing more then a black mark in the history books."

"Not with wolves like me keeping the culture alive." Ana sneered. "I'll make sure it lives on in my pups."

Vernon scoffed, shaking his head in dismissal.

"So I take it he's your body guard then?" Ana ignored him, turning her attention back to Dawn. "Otherwise I can't imagine you'd have the gall to talk to me like-"

"She's my mate." Vernon said firmly, stepping to the ewe's side and grasping her hoof again. The wolf squeezed it tightly, flashing Dawn a soft smile. Dawn had done enough fighting on her own for his sake. The wolf felt it was time to step up.

The ewe looked back at him in shock, at least at first. It only took seconds for tears to start flowing from the corners of her eyes.

"V-vernon." She murmured.

"W-wh-what?" Ana's eyes flew open, blinking rapidly. "I-I'm sorry, w-what was that?" The she-wolf stumbled over her words.

Vernon took a deep breath, puffing his chest out proudly. Dawn was his, and he wasn't ashamed to make it clear.

"This is Dawn Bellwether, and she's my mate." The wolf stated confidently.

Ana simply seemed to freeze, eyes wide in disbelief as to what she had heard. But behind her eyes Vernon could see a hint of glee. A shine like the one a pup gets on the early Yule morning, looking over the mound of presents that had been left the night before. It was as if the information had simply over stimulated her, shut down her ability to process it, and the reaction was waiting for her to come back online.

Suddenly the she-wolf reeled back, letting out the most uproarious and boisterous laugh Vernon had ever heard from her. She placed a paw over her eyes as she continued to laugh like maniac, reeling back and forth as she continued to cackle. As her laugh grew louder and louder, Vernon could see a crowd beginning to draw around them The fairgoers had all stopped dead in their tracks, now looking intently at the scene before them.

With another hard reel back, Ana's laugh turned into a howl. And it didn't take long for some of the other wolves in the fair to join in. Vernon could hear them piping up from all over the carnival. Surprisingly, Kendrick kept silent. It was clear that like Vernon, the wolf had trained himself to suppress the urge to howl. Instead he seemed to become increasingly flustered.

With that last howl, the she-wolf fell into a crouch, clawing desperately at her chest as tried to catch her breath.

"Wait, Dawn Bellwether?" Kendrick asked. Seemingly trying to change the subject away from the scene Ana was trying to create.

"Y-yes?" Dawn muttered weakly.

"Ah, I was a big fan of your political career!" Ken said, clapping his paws together. "I followed it really closely up until...um...well you know."

"O-oh..." Dawn murmured, twisting a hoof awkwardly into the dirt.

"But I have to say, the laws you helped get passed for the city wer-"

The wolf was unable to finish his sentence before Ana slammed into his side, a laugh escaping through her labored breath as she struggled to keep from collapsing.

"OH THIS IS TOO PERFECT!" Ana practically sang. "VERNON HUNTER! THE WEAK OMEGA WHO COULD'T KEEP A REAL SHE-WOLF SATISFIED IS A DIRTY PREY CHASER!" Ana let out another howl of laughter. "AND NOT JUST ANY PREY, BUT A SHEEP!"

"Ana, calm down, you're stirring up the other wo-"

The wolfess gave her mate a playful elbow to the rib.

"AND TO TOP IT ALL OFF, SHE'S AN EX-CON!" Ana wheezed. "SHE WAS GOING TO WIPE OUT ALL THE PREDATORS IN THE CITY REMEMBER!? WHAT, DID YOU FORGET THAT SCRAPPY!?" The wolfess pawed at her increasingly uncomfortable looking mate.

The she wolf began to wipe tears from her eyes as she continued to choke out laughter. "OR DO YOU LIKE THAT? BEING SUBORDINATE TO SOME GRAZER WHO LOOKS AT YOU LIKE YOU'RE THE LESSER MAMMAL?"

"ANA! These are my constit-" Ken reached out a paw, but the she-wolf pushed him away. Ana strolled up to Vernon, putting her face right up to his as she tried to suppress her laughing fit.

"Does she hit you? Huh?" She continued. "Do you tell your co-workers you got a black eye from 'falling down the stairs'?" Ana grinned evilly. "Or do you like letting her own you because you're so weak? So lowly? Such an omega that not even a female of your own species would put up with you?"

The she-wolf turned to the crowd, holding her paws out as if beckoning them to join in her spectacle.

"WHAT A FREAKSHOW! A SHEEP AND A WOLF!" Ana let out another howling laugh. "HOW DISGUSTING! HOW UNNATURAL!" Ana shot a glare at the couple. "It's just plain wrong."

With that Ana turned back to Ken, proudly strolling back toward the now flustered looking black wolf. However, stopped mid-way, turning her head back to glance at the pair.

"But I suppose it makes sense." Ana chuckled darkly. "Two broken, twisted, sick freaks with no one else to turn to. A weak willed, soft, miserable excuse for a wolf. An omega in every sense of the word. And a fragile, tiny little sheep who spent her life playing second fiddle to everyone and couldn't even get her petty little revenge plan right. Who's praying that everyone will forget what she did the first time around because of what she did a few months ago." Ana scoffed. "And they won't, by the way."

"You know what you problem is Ana?" Vernon said coolly. The wolf gingerly released Dawn's hoof from his grip, marching back toward the now smugly smiling she wolf. Vernon had enough. In the past he had been more than willing to simply let Ana tire herself. To continue to lob insults until she grew bored and left. It was pointless to stoop to her level. But with all those times Vernon had been alone, and wasn't compelled to argue pointlessly with the nasty she-wolf. He knew she was wrong, and nothing he could say was going to change that, so it had never been worth his time to protest. Seeing her again after all this time had thrown him right back into his High School mindset, and he had been ready to let it play out the same way.

But then Dawn spoke up, stood up for him in the face of Ana's insults and put-downs. Dawn reminded him that he wasn't in high school anymore, that things were no longer the same, and that someone was looking out for him. And it was his time to defend his mate just as she had for him, to say all the things he had always wanted to tell the nasty she-wolf that he never thought he'd get the chance to say. That was, until now.

"You're scared of anyone knowing who you really are." Vernon spat.

Ana raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Pft...what?"

"Look at you." Vernon continued. " All this native wolf pride bullcrap. The last name 'Windpaw'?" Vernon scoffed. "Any mammal with a lick of knowledge about native wolves knows that no actual tribe would recognize you, right? Because wolves that get kicked out, or choose to leave their packs don't get to keep their pack name."

Ana's grin faltered slightly, eyes widening in shock.

"W-what?"

"We both know the only reason yer great-great grandma came to Zootopia was because she was an omega, just like my grandma." Vernon spat. " They left because they hated native wolf tradition, they hated what it represented. Just like every other native wolf that moved out here. They were happy to take their husbands name because they didn't want anything to do with where they came from, but they also had no last names to replace!" Vernon sneered.

"You may have found out what your grandma's old pack name was, but to any actual native wolf tribe, they'd never accept you, especially the actual Windpaws if they are still even around. As soon as anyone found out you were from Zootopia, they'd know why." Vernon gestured to the she wolf.

Ana was frowning now, her ears completely flattened against her head.

"Hell, you don't even know any actual native wolf howl-speak do you? Aside from the curse words." Vernon spat. "Or has that changed since I saw you last? The gods know you weren't a big reader."

"I-I-I-" Ana stammered, clearly unable to think of a good snide reply. Rather than give her the opening, Vernon pressed on.

"But you needed to be unique, to have an edge right?" Vernon turned his back the the she-wolf as he started pacing. "Otherwise you had nothing else that made you different from the other wolfess' in our school. " Vernon pinched the bridge of his muzzle. "So you embraced the Native Wolf in your blood line for better or for worse. It was something, anything you could grasp at to help you stand out."

By now Ana appeared to be shrinking slightly, slinking deeper into her boyfriends side.

"So you gleaned all the most basic knowledge about Native Wolf cultural and crafted this tough, wild persona around that tiny element in your families history, because you had absolutely nothing else to offer anyone." Vernon stomped back towards Ana, stabbing a finger at her. The she wolf recoiled slightly, as if she had expected Vernon swing at her.

"And it made you insecure. So desperate to be liked and validated that you put down everyone around you to build yourself up, to stroke you ego. And when you had a mate, you constantly put them to the test to prove they cared about you. Because you needed to be sure, you needed constant reinforcement that you were loved. And it was never enough." Vernon was beginning to smile as he watched Ana cowering. The weight of the days earlier pressures were suddenly all rising to the surface. Flowing out of him like a waterfall as he unloaded the days baggage in one rant focused at the cruel red wolf.

"And that's why your back right? Why you came back to Zootopia?" Vernon mused, scratching his chin. "You never went to any communes, or at least you were never allowed to stay at them. Because of who you really were."

"Th-that's not true!" Ana hissed. Her voice waivered, the wolf's words were obviously hitting her sore spot.

"So YOU came back to Zootopia with YOUR tail between your legs. And kept up your old persona because at this point it was really all you had. Because you are empty." Vernon spat. "You are an empty, hollow shell of a wolfess who clings to the faded image of old wolf traditions because without them you have nothing else."

Vernon turned to engage the crowd, spreading his arms out in a similar fashion that Ana had before.

"And me? Well I get the heat because I'm the first one. The one you were the most open with. The one who knows all of your secrets. The ones you hoped I'd never repeat if you kept putting me down. If you brow beat me into shamed silence."

With that Vernon strolled over to Dawn. Taking hold of her hoof with a firm grasp the wolf pulled her forward slightly. With a nod, Dawn and Vernon stood their ground at each other's side. Her touch emboldening Vernon's resolve, the look of determination in her eyes pressing the wolf onward.

"Look at us Ana!" Vernon snarled, gesturing at himself and the ewe.

"Think whatever you want, but she's my soul mate!" Vernon barked.

"And he's mine!" Dawn added, seemingly trying to be as loud as she could.

"We have each other." Vernon smiled. "And one day your going to run out of mates to use up and find yourself all alone. An embittered old she-wolf without a family or friends, without pups of her own, because you drove them all away."

Vernon let out a hard sigh as the scene fell silent. Ana looked like she was nearly going to faint, but Vernon still had one last thing to say. The grin on his muzzle widened as he prepared his final statement, knowing it would leave the she-wolf devastated.

"Because you're an Omega on the inside Ana Millfang." Vernon said coldly. "And you always have been."

Ana's eyes went wide in what Vernon could only describe as sheer terror.

"Y-you-You." Ana choked. "R-remembered my-"

"Your real last name." Vernon said, a smug grin creeping across his face.

At that moment Ana began to shudder, and Vernon watched as the flesh beneath her fur went through several shades of red as the shock turned to pure rage. She hadn't seen that coming, she had never expected the wolf to stand against her, much less actually tell the truth about her. The bits he had learned before she had made her full transformation into the self described alpha female she now was. Her cheeks swelled as she began to sputter a rebuttal.

"WHY Y-Y-I, I-" She snarled, glaring daggers at the couple. "I'M GO-"

Ana shook her head briskly before switching her stare to the towering wolf next to her. Her eyes were so focused on Ken it looked as though her vision alone could cut through the wolf's flesh.

"WELL!" Ana hissed.

"W-well what?" Ken stuttered.

Ana slapped a paw hard enough against his chest for the whole crowd to hear. It echoed over the silent fairground as Ken winced.

"STAND UP FOR YOUR MATE! BURY HIM!" Ana frantically gestured toward Vernon.

Ken pulled at his collar.

"Ana, I'm a politician.' the wolf coughed, adjusting his tie as he seemed to compose himself. "I'm not the type of mammal who gets into fist fights. It's bad for my public image."

Ana gave the wolf another hard slap, causing him to wince. "THEN WHY AM I EVEN WITH YOU!?" The she wolf hissed.

Ken looked down at the wolfess in annoyance. It was slight, but Vernon could see it in his eyes. The large wolf let out a sigh.

Ken pulled away from the she-wolf and walked toward the couple. As he approached he seemed to swell his chest, an obvious attempt at intimidation. Ken loomed over them, an imposing aura flowing off him despite keeping a calm and pleasant look to his face.

"Vernon Hunter, right?" Ken spoke quietly.

"Yes." Vernon said with a growl.

"Good, good." Ken muttered. "I'm sorry to say this isn't the end of this my friend."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The wolf hissed.

Ken looked over his shoulder briefly, letting out another sigh before turning back to the couple. "You'll see soon enough Mr. Hunter. You'll see."

With that, Ken turned to the crowd of fair goers, raising and lowering his arms as if signaling the crowd to simmer down.

"I'm sorry for that little ahem...." The large wolf glanced over at his mate, who simply turned her head away from him, letting out an annoyed huff. "Disruption. But please, go back to enjoying the fair. I apologize if my mate said anything out of turn, it's been a stressful day for the two of us."

With that, Ken glanced back at Vernon. For a brief moment the wolf felt another lump form in his throat, the sudden fear of Ken trying to sic the crowd on the two of them rising in his mind. But instead the official turned back to the crowd and calmly continued.

"Her remarks toward sheep folk were completely off base, and I do not support them. And I assure you we will be discussing this later." Ken glared at his mate, earning yet another huff.

"Anyway, please enjoy the fair." Ken concluded, before making his way back toward Ana, extending an arm to her as he passed. Ana however, pushed it away, keeping a few feet from the wolf official. Clearly his little public apology had pleased everyone but her. Letting out a sigh of defeat, the wolf strode forward. Ana gave on last glare back at Dawn and Vernon, turning her nose up before following behind Ken as the pair walked into the crowd and disappeared.

Vernon stood tall, still clutching Dawn's hoof tightly in his paw as he let out a relieved sigh. He had done it, he had finally told Ana off and mam' had it felt good. It certainly had taken the edge off the anxiety and misery that Vernon had built up from earlier in the day. But his brief elation was short lived as he looked down at the worried looking ewe next to him. She seemed to quiver as she latched on to Vernon's arm completely, looking up at him with tear filled eyes.

"O-Oh Vernon." Dawn sobbed. "W-what are we going to do now?"

"W-what? What's wrong Honey Lamb? We told her off. We-"

Dawn shook her head briskly, wiping her eyes against his arm.

"D-Didn't you hear what Loupon said?" Dawn stammered.

"Oh that?" Vernon chuckled. "It's fine Darling. He's got nothing."

"B-but Vernon!" Dawn pleaded. "He's a politician! I k-know politicians! H-he might have connections Vernon!" The ewe wept.

"Aw please." Vernon smirked. "What's the worst he could do to us?"

#Zootopia #dawn bellwether #Assistant Mayor Bellwether #fanfiction #furry #OC #fan character #wasted time #romance #Drama #comedy

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ladykg · 7 years

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{Yuri on Ice Mermaid!Au - MerMay Submission} Make a little sea

DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT MY PERMISSION, THIS IS ALSO POSTED ON MY AO3 AND FANFICTION.NET - LINKS IN MY PROFILE (LADYKG.TUMBLR.COM)

'Ello lovely readers,

I know it's a bit late but this is my submission for MerMay, but really I've just been looking for an excuse to write and post a YOI Mermaid!AU because why not?

Anyway, onto the story, I hope you all enjoy and please review!

The first time his parents take him ice skating he marvels at the fact he doesn’t grow fins. He is so shocked that the water - frozen as it is - doesn’t do anything that he doesn’t care to pay attention to the girl he was about to collide with. They both go down hard, sprawling across the ice and setting his glasses askew - his grandma had insisted upon getting them, saying that his vision will always be worse outside the water.

She is loud and hyper - the first thing he notices without being able to properly see - to the point he can’t keep up with her babbling as she hefts herself off the ice like their fall was nothing.

“-I haven’t seen you here before,” her voice goes on, cheerful even as Yuuri feels the bruises form on himself, more than certain that she has gained some purple blotches as well. “What’s your name? I’m Yuuko!”

“Yuuri,” his voice came small and less over-taking than hers. The second thing he notices is her beaming, teeth-filled, eye-closing smile.

A year older and two more than Yuuri on the ice gives her a grace he wishes his stubby limbs could have outside the water. She becomes his friend - declares it herself as she helps him rebalance on wobbly blades.

It becomes a day of many firsts.

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

Two years later his grandmother dies, taken by the foaming waves.

She was the only one in his family that shared his ‘gift’. The one that taught him how to swim, and all the rules about being part merperson. Like how often to shift, or that just because you can eat fish easier when you transform doesn’t mean you should. Like the fact that other kids don’t grow fins when submerged, that Yuuri was different and he shouldn’t despair.

She was the only one who didn’t give him worrying looks when, at the age of three, his tail replaced his legs during bath time. She had smiled, a knowing twinkle in her eye that was filled with equal parts glee.

It takes a month for his parents to coax him back into the water. Not because he fears he too will be swallowed whole by its gaping vastness, but because it is not the same alone. He hates swimming alone.

It takes Yuuko another week to convince him to skate again. (A week and several long rants about how they will never be able to impress Viktor if they don’t practice).

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

Viktor Nikiforov.

Yuuri fills his room with posters of the man, a star brighter than any he has ever seen. Something to connect with Yuuko over, turns drastically into Yuuri’s own fantasy of sharing the ice with Viktor one day. Of sharing with this beautiful man the closest he can get to water without shifting - something precious.

One day, he tells his parents, one day he’s going to meet Viktor and give him a bouquet of blue roses.

His parents smile those indulgent smiles that always trick kids into believing they trust in the achievement of their wishes. They say, “Of course, Yuuri.”

And when he begs them for a poodle, “Viktor has a poodle!” They indulge him. Allow their child with dreams too big for his fins and stars in his eyes to reach for heights that no one thinks he can grasp. (Or perhaps the ‘no one’ is just Yuuri). Watch as he practices relentlessly each day, feet bleeding, body bruised and legs aching from lack of shift. Look on, and smile, and support, and tell Yuuri that they believe he can achieve whatever he puts his mind to. That everyone gets stage fright. That his anxiety will wane with more time in front of a crowd.

Those smiles change when he starts to win competitions - pride, now, and a sense of not-understanding. They support him. Celebrate each victory and do not question as he brings home more and more posters of a silver-haired skater with ocean blue eyes.

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

When Yuuko finds out the truth she is angrier than his parents.

It was been an accident, really. Even if he does, at times, contemplate telling her everything he knows that he shouldn’t. He is different, other people don’t grow fins when they enter water, and although he shouldn’t despair that doesn’t mean he plans to tell anyone of this difference either. Both because he heeds his grandmother’s old warnings and because he is scared of what they might do. What they might say. How they might react. (That Yuuko won’t want to be friends anymore).

She did. Want to be friend that is. Despite Yuuri’s fears and tear streaked face as he rushes home after finally, finally, drying off enough to regain his legs. Despite the fact that he cries to his parents, eleven years old, that he just lost his best friend all because of this stupid ‘gift’. Despite the fact that he skips practice for three days.

Despite the fact that she feels like she has been betrayed.

“How could you not tell me?” Yuuko huffs, face set in a pout, arms propped on her hips.

Yuuri blinks up at her, Vicchan’s fur clutched in his fist for support as his still-best-friend stands outside his house and rants about how cool it was to have a mermaid - “or would it be merman, merboy?” - as a best friend. That Yuuri will have to bring her all the prettiest shells and that he will have to swim them to Russia to meet Viktor. And can she see his tail again?

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

Minako doesn’t find out so much as his parents decide to tell her - twelve years old and only a few months since ‘The Yuuko Incident’ as the adults call it. They don’t need someone else discovering it by accident.

What if someone besides Minami sees?

What if Yuuri starts to be careless?

What if the authorities get involved?

What if-

Yuuri sits next to his sister. His normal, finless, shiftless sister who can go swimming with everyone else. Who doesn’t have to worry about gills and glasses and legs that ache if he doesn’t go in the water for too long.

Sits in the dining area of their home and listens to his parents as they talk in hushed voices from the kitchen. They discuss his future and how worried they are, how someone might ‘find out’ and that he could be taken away. That it is dangerous for him to live so close to the ocean. That Hatetsu is a small town and someone was bound to notice.

He hates his ‘gift’ sometimes.

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

He leaves his little town by the ocean for America, college, and training under a new coach. It terrifies him. He knows no one, the area is foreign to him in a way he hasn’t experienced when living in a small town. Even when they traveled for competitions it had always been with Yuuko or Minako by his side. Neither of them are with him now, and stepping off the plane into this new world sets his anxiety to a level he can barely handle. But he is determined, because it had taken a year of coaxing to convince his parents it is the right move.

There are no oceans close enough to Detroit that he parents have need to worry - one of the main selling points for his transition here. But the great lakes surround him and even if they are colder than what he is used to it affords him everything he needs in life.

Water.

Ice.

Skates.

And the next push to become a good enough skater to meet Viktor.

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

Meeting Phichit changes more than just his skating schedule or rooming situation. His fellow skater helps push Yuuri to try more daring jumps, to dare to dream even bigger - to aim for the stars when he has never been able to reach much higher than the sea.

Their friendship is, in Yuuri’s opinion, one for the books. They enable each other and indulge in more jokes than Celestino permits during practices but they have fun. They excel.

They become so close that Yuuri can hardly imagine a time when Phichit wasn’t in his life - doesn’t want to because it seems terribly lonely, even with Yuuko and Takeshi and Vicchan. They have become so inseparable that Yuuri can’t even pinpoint the time when he found out, just that he did and that from then on out Phichit had joined him in skipping a class every two weeks to rent a boat and take it out onto the lake.

Phichit is also the first person beside Yuuko that Yuuri decides to tell about his dream of skating on the same ice as Viktor. Yuuri doesn’t know what he is expecting, but it isn’t the enthusiastic cheer and suddenly serious consideration of clocking more hours at the rink behind Celestino’s back.

It takes a weight off of his chest.

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

Five years tick by faster than he wants. The anxiety never goes away, the panic right before getting onto the ice still fresh every single time.

Five years and he has finally made it to the GPF.

Five years and suddenly he is sitting in a stall with tear-streaked cheeks, twenty-four years old, and crying to his parents about how sorry he is to have disappointed them. To have messed up. To have missed Vicchan’s death.

To have failed so miserably in front of Viktor. To know and finally be forced to realize that his dreams really are too big for him and that fish are better left to swimming that trying to jump for the stars.

The sudden and forceful smashing of his stall door brings him up short, and with no small amount of trepidation - what if it’s Viktor, what if he has come to tell Yuuri how disappointed he is? - he slides out of the stall.

“Sorry,” he is able to force out, voice small as he tries to seem less panicked than he actually is facing off Yuri Plisetsky. They call him the “Russian Punk” and with his already frayed mentality Yuuri is less than inclined to be running into him.

“Oi,” the younger boy starts out with, and with the look in his eyes Yuuri irrationally thinks that he has been discovered. That his parents will face not only disappointment in competition but another case of ‘The Yuuko Incident’. “I’m competing in the senior division next year,” is what comes instead, “we don’t need two Yuri’s in the same bracket.”

Oh, is all that comes to mind, because he had been thinking of-

“Incompetents like you should just retire already.” And suddenly the punk is right in his face screaming an insult and walking away faster than Yuuri can really process. Cutting short his thoughts and making him feel more and more justified in his decision. There are plenty of talented skaters, what use is having an older washed out dreamer on the rink?

Even with the encouragements of a reporter he can’t see reason to continue.

Especially when Viktor asks if he wants a commemorative photo. Especially as his heart sinks so low that he can’t even feel if it’s beating anymore.

Plisetsky was right. He really is a moron.

An idiot to think that Viktor would recognize him.

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

He waits out the rest of his semester, attending class and focusing on his grades. Attending practices to create a new routine becomes an afterthought - what use is it to train if he doesn’t intend to compete? He takes that time to study, and those weekends normally spent with Phichit in the rink see him in the lakes.

He gains weight. It has always been easy for him to do - when he was younger he had chalked it up to the waters being cold and the fat acting as a layer of insulation. But thin or not the chill has never bothered him and his mother suffers from a similar dilemma.

By the time he returns home he is more than ready to sink back into the anonymity of a small town and spend a week doing nothing but swimming. Perhaps he’ll even visit his grandmother’s grave.

He does not expect Minako-sensei to be there, waiting for him at the train station - nor does he expect her to be so excited in the face of his failure. His mother’s good mood at his arrival doesn’t do anything to lift his spirits - she is happy for his return but cannot seem to understand what it has cost him. (He can’t begrudge either of them, though).

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

Seeing Yuuko again after five years settles a strange weight in his chest, he would like to call it nostalgic but he would be wrong. She watches his ragtag performance of Viktor’s skate with shining eyes - like he could be more than he is. And when it is over she is more than happy to push her triplets onto her husband in order to join him by the beach. A private section that they always trekked to when Yuuri wanted to swim without anyone but her knowing - not even his parents have been told of this particular tradition. They sit there talking. Yuuri’s tail, a pretty mixture of darker blues and greys with hints of black along the edges of his fins, in the water enough that he stays shifted.

When they were younger Yuuko would always trace out small patterns like other children would give shapes to clouds.

She doesn’t this time, too busy chatting away about all that has changed since he left. And although she doesn’t sound hurt anymore, Yuuri knows that his disappearance has taken its toll of his best friend.

That night he falls asleep, legs no longer aching and a strange tightness in his chest. (Trying to force yourself to fall out of love is the hardest thing he has ever done - even if it is with skating and what it represents. Perhaps he’ll be able to convince his heart that simply teaching classes will be enough. Even if what he really wants is to, someday, skate once more with Viktor).

When he wakes the next morning it’s to a buzzing phone. He had ignored the notifications the night before - too busy catching up with Yuuko and too exhausted after to care for what they said.

“Hello,” he says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I-I’m sorry Yuuri,” Takeshi says over the line. “My kids uploaded the video, and it went viral! Everyone is freaking out, and it’s been retweeted all over the world!”

It seems the universe just won’t catch him a break.

He leaves his parents a note, quickly written and Yuuri isn’t even sure it makes sense. But he’s out the door before he can really think about that, racing down the steps and skidding through town with his hood drawn up over his head. Before he knows it he’s stripped to his underwear and stuffed the clothes he hastily threw on into his pack.

His and Yuuko’s escape still has the same tree with a wide enough opening to hide his belongings for at least three days. Any longer and his family will start to worry, even with the note.

The water bites against his skin right up until his body catches up with his shift and all he can feel is the need to go deeper, go further, not stop swimming until his life is left far behind.

Sometimes he doesn’t hate his ‘gift’.

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

He spends four days in the water, letting the ocean wash away each budding feeling until he is more fatigued from his emotions than the actual act of swimming itself. Yuuko is waiting for him when he surfaces, eyebrows raised and foot tapping against the sand - her sharp expression makes it clear that his note was not enough. She helps him beach himself and towels his hair as he tries to dry his tail enough to shift back.

It’s not painful exactly, but not comfortable either.

Yuuri thinks that Yuuko not telling him is her way of revenge. Because as he walks up to the house a poodle too big to be Vicchan but so very similar tackles him to the ground. Yuuko laughs. The dog barks. And Yuuri’s brain tries to comprehend what is going on.

With a little struggle he manages to get up and open the door enough to see his father caring a tray of tea and small snacks past, “I’m home,” he calls out because what else can he say?

“Oh, Yuuri, you’re back!” His father pauses, “And I see you’ve met one of our new guests. Looks just like Vicchan doesn’t he? A good-looking foreigner brought him, nice fellow.”

His father is still talking, but everything has become static - and the next thing he knows is that Viktor Nikiforov is walking by in nothing but a green robe.

“V-Viktor?!” He exclaims, unable to hide his shock, because this is the same man that asked for a commemorative photo. The same man that Yuuri has been chasing after since he can remember. This is the same man that had choreographed the program Yuuko’s daughters had made into a viral video. “What are you doing here?”

“Yuuri!” The accent is thick, even more so than at the GPF, “Starting today, I’m your coach. I’ll make you win the Grand Prix Final.”

Yuuri’s life changes in that second, the one that comes right after Viktor winks. (Winks. At him). And all those emotions he had been able to wash away with his four day swim come swelling back up even worse than before. Confusion leads, right before disbelief and then panic so thick it clogs his throat.

He takes a step back, eyes wide and more than ready to run back to the water. Yuuko, his devilish best friend, places a hand on his back and shoves - more than willing to take advantage of his tired state and the way his legs feel sluggish.

He stumbles into his home, jolted from his shock just enough to get out a rough, “What?”

The end of the day comes and Viktor is sleeping on their floor with Makkachin. A sight so surreal that Yuuri doesn’t even bother to pay attention to Minako-sensei has she rushes into the house, rambling about rumors.

“Yuuri!” Minako practically yells into his ear, “Why is Viktor sleeping in one of the inn’s robes?!”

“He soaked in the hot spring, had dinner, and then he fell asleep…” he tells his old teacher plaintively.

Minako rants again, explaining off rumors and things she had read up on and things that Yuuri already knows.

Knows but definitely does not believe.

Because there must be some mistake, this must be some prank. Viktor would never decide to leave skating just to coach a washed out skater from Japan that fumbled his way through a program. It’s simply not possible.

“They’re also saying that when he saw the video of you skating his routine it inspired him to become your coach!”

That’s new, “Huh?”

“He chose you,” she tells him, bulldozing on like she doesn’t notice his disbelief. “You brought him here!”

His heart flips in his chest, unable to keep from hoping even has his rational mind tells him not to. A mistake. It’s all just an elaborate mistake, he tells himself, nothing more.

Viktor wakes with a sneeze, distracting Yuuri from his thoughts with claims of hunger, “As your coach, I’d like to know what your favorite food is, Yuuri.”

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

A pig is what Viktor calls him. Yuuri has heard a hundred and one different insults, pigs often included - he has moved on from letting them affect him. There are much worse things that people can call him, after all.

But hearing Viktor say is makes a knife pierce right through him, gutting him like a fish. It hurts. Hurts in a way that not even losing the GPF so badly had. Not even having Yuri Plisetsky tell him to retire can compare to the sheer embarrassment.

The embarrassment only worsens when the man seems to flirt with him. And Yuuri says seems to because clearly it’s just Viktor’s personality and he shouldn’t take the advances seriously - why would the man want anything to do with him anyway? What right does Yuuri have to think of him in any other way than his coach, than an idol?

But it makes him nervous, makes him scared to be close, and so he flinches. Flails. Runs. Dodges questions and heads to his room because Yuuko will kill him if he tries to go for another swim.

(He’s happy, even if the embarrassment and hurt still linger under the surface, even if the unsure nature of the situation makes him sure it’s all just a dream. He’s happy, because Viktor is here and even if he realizes how hopeless coaching Yuuri is and leaves at least Yuuri had him for a small while. And Yuuri will be damned if he doesn’t use that time to try and convince Viktor to stay).

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

The second time he meets Yuri Plisetsky it’s when he about to tell Viktor that he’s fit enough to skate. Yuri kicks him, harshly, in the back - sending him sprawling onto the floor with new reporters just outside the rink.

“It’s all your fault. Apologize,” the blond tells him, aura threatening and a look in his eyes that spells danger even if he is only fifteen. “He promised me that he’d choreograph a program for me.”

This is how he learns the Yuri is completely underestimating him, entirely self-assured in the fact that he won gold in his division the year before. This also is how he learns that Viktor can’t keep a promise - whether forgetful or just uncaring he can’t really tell.

A competition comes out of it though. One that pits him against the newly dubbed Yurio in order to win Viktor’s favor. He’s nervous despite himself.

He’s nervous that he won’t be enough to keep Viktor here. Yuri has more potential, more confidence, more comfort with Viktor and more history as a fellow Russian skater. There is little reason for Viktor to stay and coach him instead when there is more support for leaving.

But that doesn’t mean he’s about to take losing Viktor sitting down - he spends most of the night at the ice rink, going through figures and getting the feel of the ice once more.

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

Eros. Eros. How is he supposed to do eros? He has no skill in seducing people, is not appealing in such a way. Why would Viktor think this is a good idea?

But he tries; works hard with Minako and Takeshi and Yuuko. Goes to every practice and listens to every bit of advice handed to him. He is not about to let Yuri take away his only chance to truly skate with Viktor, even if it is just in practice. He’s not about to let himself lose. Not again.

It’s more embarrassing them he lets on to announce that his eros is katsudon of all things. Embarrassing to watch Viktor’s face, embarrassing to see the laughter and disbelief in Yurio’s. So he runs, runs until his lungs ache and then runs some more, runs until his legs take him to the side of the ocean and he all but dives into the water.

All the same he goes to practice the next day.

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

“No,” is the first word out of his mouth when he sees what Viktor wants him to do. The first time he has said it to the man since this competition has started. The first time he has refused to do something for their training.

“What?” Yurio says it first, “Already giving up, pig?”

And as Yuuri stares at the waterfall all he can think is that there are sadly more important things than trying to one up Yurio even if it is to gain Viktor’s favor. There are things that have been pounded into him for years - since he was three. The one thing his parents were truly strict on.

No one must know.

And although that rule has been broken with Yuuko, and with Phichit, that was after years of knowing them. He has barely known these two for a week.

He shakes his head, “I’m not giving up. But I’m not getting in the water.” With that he doesn’t even bother to explain. Because the consequences of saying no are not nearly as dire as those should his secret be revealed. A secret he has not given much thought to since Viktor has arrived - distracted as he has been losing weight, distracted as he has been trying to win Viktor’s favor and attention. So he turns, slips past the two shocked Russians and breaks into a sprint once he is sure he is out of sight even as he hears Viktor call out his name.

Because he hasn’t given much thought to Viktor finding out, but now that he is thinking about it he can’t stop. What if Viktor thinks he’s a freak? What if Viktor laughs? What if Viktor refuses to coach him anymore? What if it makes Viktor leave for Russia?

Each question makes his chest tighten. He stops a passing car and asks for a lift back to the onsen. By the time he gets home he is more than ready to hide in his room for the rest of the night. But he doesn’t get more than ten minutes of quiet before there is a knock.

With a sigh he opens the door only to go wide-eyed at the sight of Viktor standing there, frown on his face and arms crossed.

“Yuuri,” the Russian accent comes across thicker when he’s frustrated Yuuri notes. “What was that?”

“I don’t do well in water,” Yuuri says curtly, because there are many things he will let Viktor convince him to do. Skate to eros, go through a competition against Yurio, not eat katsudon. But this is something that Yuuri will stay firm on, even as his comment earns him a surprised look.

“You’re scared of water?” And an assumption makes way for the perfect out, even if it’s not true. Even if it may come back to hurt him later on.

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

He wins. He wins. Viktor is staying. Viktor is going to be his coach. His heart can barely keep up with the amount of happiness that is flooding through his veins. Sudden and desperate and so very intoxicating that he can hardly understand.

Viktor is staying. Alone. With Yuuri. Which means…

Which means he’s going to be spending more and more time with Yuuri.

Oh.

He spends the next week hiding, more fearful of Viktor seeing his faults than anything else. (His secret kept well within that list). Just because he won Viktor over in that competition doesn’t mean that Viktor will want to stay once he gets to actually know Yuuri. Really gets to know Yuuri.

A week of avoidance and a heart to heart by the cherry blossom tree brings them closer than Yuuri could have ever imagined.

But that closeness means they are practically inseparable. They eat together, sleep in rooms right next to each other, practice together, go to and from the rink together, and travel together from the preliminary competition. Yuuri barely has time to breathe. And with Viktor thinking he is afraid of water now it means the most Yuuri can do is take a shower - not nearly enough to shift, he needs to be at least half submerged.

And it goes like that, day in and out. Two weeks turn to three and then four and soon a month and a half has passed without a shift and Yuuri’s legs ache. Practice becomes difficult around the fifth week, but he refuses to let it show.

It’s the sixth week that has his legs shaking, and with more determination than ever he hits the ice, Yuuko nearby to watch as she does from time to time. It’s a simple jump, he can pull it off without a thought normally. But now is not normally and now his legs are weaker than ever. He hits the ice hard. Harder than most falls but before he even hears his name be called he knows he’s not significantly hurt. Bruised? Most likely. Broken? Not even close.

Viktor reaches him first, “Yuuri?”

The concern hits him first. A gloved hand on his shoulder, another comes - smaller, Yuuko - to rest against his arm.

“Yuuri, are you okay?”

He gives a huff, aiming for frustration rather than pain, “I’m fine.”

“Your take off was perfect, you were tight with you spins and-“

“Yuuri,” Yuuko cuts into Viktor’s ranting. Her eyes are sharp. Sharp in the way that means Yuuri is in trouble and that he will be getting a talking to. He gulps but nods nonetheless.

“I’m fine, Viktor,” he turns to his coach - friend - and offers a smile as he forces his aching legs to move. “I can finish practice.”

“Yuuri, that fall-“

“Wasn’t that bad,” he insists but by the way Viktor’s blue eyes harden he can tell it was the wrong thing to say.

“As your coach I am ordering you off the rink for the rest of the day.” His jaw is set, hands on his hips and skates planted.

“Vikto-“

“No, Yuuri,” Yuuko taps her finger against his arm once. “You need to rest. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”

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

He meets her at their little section of beach, face sheepish and trying not to show how hard even walking is starting to become. She sees right through him.

“In the water, now.”

He obeys easily, all too eager to stop the pain and feel the cool lapping of the ocean once more. It’s his fastest shift yet, painful for the first time in what feels like forever.

“Kami, Yuuri, how long has it been?” Yuuko asks from her perch on the sand as he slides himself onto the beach enough to talk.

Thinking back he really should have seen this coming. “A month,” he says tentatively, because he knows that he should be in the water every two weeks, “probably more. But I’ve been busy! I need to train and Viktor-“

“You should tell him.”

“What?!” He feels his heart stop in his chest, not prepared for such a declaration.

“Viktor doesn’t seem like the type to go and tell everyone,” Yuuko continues as if she hasn’t just shattered his world. “Mari-nee-chan agrees, too.”

“You talked to my sister,” he wheezes out.

“And with how much time you two spend together it’s bound to come out at some point,” Yuuko taps her chin as if she is thinking all of this up on the spot. “The longer you wait the more he’ll feel betrayed.”

“But-“

“No ‘but’s,” she tells him with a wave of her hand. “Besides, if you don’t this could happen again.”

“Yu-chan,” he tries, because this isn’t about Viktor telling someone else. “It’s just…” he tries to find the words, the ones that will explain perfectly why he is so reluctant. Because he has considered it. Considered telling Viktor everything and dismissed it for fear of abandonment. He isn’t sure he can say that outload… but… But this is Yuuko. Yuuko who he can tell everything. “Don’t you think this is all a bit too much?”

“Too much?” Yuuko’s gaze goes soft with understanding. “Yuuri, this is the man that didn’t run after you said katsudon was your eros.”

He feels a blush run across his face, heavy and entirely not because of how cold the water is. “Who…”

“Mari, Minako and I have weekly get-togethers,” Yuuko says cheerfully.

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

“I take it you and Yuuko talked.” He jumps at the voice, sputtering as his sister comes out from the shadows she was lurking in. “Is that why you’re loitering out here?”

“I’m not loitering,” he denies it, head shaking and arms flailing. It had only been ten minutes, really.

His sister hums, eyes shrewd. “I’ll support whatever you decide,” she places a cigarette between her lips. “Now get inside, fish-boy.”

He glances at her one more time, not in the least offended by her nickname. He shakes his head as he finally slides open the door nerves flaring bright and hot under his skin. What greets him is the sight of his mother and Viktor sitting together, Makkachin to the side seemingly content to just bask in his mother’s attention.

It makes him smile despite his anxiety. Despite the fact he is about to tell someone his deepest secret. Despite the fact that this is Viktor. Viktor who smiles and laughs and spends his time with Yuuri despite all his flaws. Viktor who Yuuri has idolized and chased since the first time he saw the man skate. Viktor who stole Yuuri’s heart with his skating and is doing it again with his everything.

He shuffles out of his shoes, “I’m home.”

“Ah, Yuuri, how’s Yuuko doing?” His mother smiles up at him, not bothering to stop petting the poodle relaxing by her knees.

“She’s doing well,” he gives a shaky smile. He can’t bring himself to look at Viktor, not yet. “Mom, are the hot springs cleared?”

There is shock first, his mom’s eyes wide as they skitter from him to Viktor and back. But understanding fills them all too fast, a smile brighter than Yuuri has seen from her since he came home. “Mari cleared them out a half-hour ago.” Of course his sister did. Yuuko and her have been talking, after all. He nods, perhaps for a few seconds too long because his mother gives him an encouraging look, “I’ll keep Makkachin company while you two talk.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “Viktor,” he starts, voice small and questioning, “I- there’s… There’s something I need to tell you.”

Viktor’s ocean blue eyes are filled with more confusion than anything else, but curiosity and trust lay there too. With little fuss his coach - friend, more? - follows as Yuuri tracks his way to the largest hot spring they have.

“Yuuri, aren’t you scared of water?” Viktor asks him as Yuuri pulls his clothes off with shaking hands and butterflies twisting a monsoon in his stomach.

“Not really,” he gives a small smile, wrapping a towel around himself as he opens the door, the cool air thick with warming steam. He pauses, staring down at the water - he’s come this far, he isn’t going to back down. (But that doesn’t mean he can’t take a few moment to catch his breath).

“Yuuri?” Viktor calls out from behind him.

“Just…” he takes the first step in, “don’t freak out, okay?”

The next few steps are easier to take. He closes his eyes as he sinks lower into the water, closes his eyes and feels the shift take place. Knows what Viktor is seeing, and knows that the steam can’t hide it. Knows by the not-so-quiet gasp.

“You’re…” there is shock there, disbelief in his voice, and Yuuri isn’t sure if he wants to open his eyes but if he doesn’t then he will never know. He thinks that’s even harder than rejection.

Viktor’s face in that moment is something he wouldn’t trade for the world. In fact, he would trade the world to never forget it. Amazement, mixed so nicely with wonder and an emotion slithering in blue depths that Yuuri can’t quiet place. There is a smile, even as his mouth hangs open in surprise. His gaze wracking over Yuuri’s figure.

Yuuri moves closer to the edge that Viktor stands by, unsure how to continue from here. So he says nothing, waiting for Viktor to do something, anything.

“You’re part fish,” finally comes, soft but loud in the silence.

“Only if half of me is submerged in water,” he explains, trying to gauge Viktor’s next move - the man has always surprised him, though, and this time is no different.

“Yuuri, this is incredible!” He has never seen anyone strip so fast, but the next thing he knows the man is sliding in next to him, sea blue gaze shining like the stars. “Can I?” Viktor asks, hands hovering over Yuuri’s tail.

He nods, because he has never really been opposed to people touching his tail, “It might be-“

“Slimmy,” Viktor exclaims, excitement so thick in his tone. “So this is why you didn’t want to go under the waterfall.”

Yuuri’s tail twitches, “I’d only known you for a week.”

Viktor hums still massaging his fingers over blue and grey scales; Yuuri takes that as understanding for his reasoning.

“It’s also why I fell earlier,” he tells him. “My legs hurt if I don’t go in the water for too long.”

This time the hands do pause, and Yuuri looks up from the water to meet Viktor’s piercing gaze, “Why did you…”

“Wait so long?” Yuuri finishes with a half shrug, “We were always together, and I was too tired by the time we separated to do anything but sleep. Before I knew it I had lost track of time.”

“I’m disappointed,” the two words come and shatter the little window of happiness that Yuuri could just about touch.

“I- what?”

“You should know better than to ignore your health!” Viktor berates him, but his hand hasn’t left Yuuri’s tail and from the looks of it Viktor isn’t so much disappointed as angry that Yuuri would abuse his body so harshly. An athlete should do everything to keep healthy, after all, their very livelihood depends on it. And with career lengths so short for figure skaters there is not much else that takes such priority. “How often do you need to…” Viktor makes a gesture with his free hand, encompassing Yuuri’s whole figure.

Yuuri cracks a small smile, “About two weeks.”

“Then we’ll set up a schedule,” Viktor announces. “We can’t have you falling like that again. You could get seriously hurt! Then what? You won’t be able to win the GPF with a broken bone.”

“Hai,” he smiles up at his ranting coach - friend, more? - and lets the pounding in his heart spread happiness throughout his veins. Maybe jumping for the stars is possible after all. Maybe his dreams were never too big for his fins and maybe they didn’t come in quite the way he thought, but they came true. Because Viktor didn’t laugh. Didn’t leave. Didn’t call him a freak.

Viktor accepted Yuuri.

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

And the rest, as they say, is history.

#Yuri on ice #yoi #viktor nikiforov #victor nikiforov #yuri katsuki #yuri plisetsky #yuuri katsuki #vickuri #victor x yuuri #viktor x yuuri #mermaid #mermaid!Au #Mermay #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #archiveofourown

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