but it's almost four in the morning

3, 30, 300 [Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader]

Summary: A new phase of your life begins as you move to an apartment in New York with an unknown roommate.

Word Count: 2,568

Warnings: None, maybe one ot two curse words?

Author’s notes: Wow, I’ve been with so many things in the works between college, collabs and personal matters that I didn’t even see time fly. This is the first thing I’ve written by myself in probably months, so I apologize in advance if I’m a little rusty. This is pure fluff and an adaptation of a story I wrote for my crative writing class, so… I hope you guys like it!

askbox | masterlist 


“Sorry, I didn’t-” your hands touched and the blush on your face became even more evident.

“No, it’s okay. Take it.” Lin’s smile was genuine, and you took the knife without saying a word. The both of you ate in silence, the cutlery against the ceramic plates being the only sound in the small kitchen and neither knowing how the dynamic between you worked.

Well, it was the first time you were sharing an apartment with a stranger, afterall.

You blamed the big city, the fear of conquering the concrete jungle without anyone to go to if needed. Online adverts about sharing an apartment in New York City brought you and Lin-Manuel together, both not knowing what each other looked like until only a few hours earlier, your moving trucks competing for a parking spot in front of the old building.

The two bedrooms were smaller than they looked like in the advert, which was already pretty small. When seeing the amount of boxes you unloaded, Lin gave up the bigger bedroom in exchange for you letting him place his piano in the cramped living room: you were unsure of how many nights you wouldn’t be able to sleep because of the instrument, but your initial bet was ‘many’.

You were right.

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Imagine if the basement tapes were a bunch of videos of Eric and Dylan baking and doing crafts part 2
  • Dylan: *is filming eric* today me and reb are going to show you how to make a godlike scrapbook for all your godlike memories.
  • Eric: *holding up scrapbooks* first you need to get yourself a scrapbook. as you can see, me and V already got some badass scrapbooks. I picked em up at some old lady store for $10 a piece. Mine has guns all over it and-
  • Dylan: *interrupting* but I wanted the one with the guns on it
  • Eric: you're getting the one with the cats on it or you can buy your own damn scrapbook
  • Dylan: but it's pink, that's not very godlike
  • Eric: we need our money for NBK, we can't go and buy you another scrapbook, let's just paint it black.
  • Eric: *walks across the room to closet*
  • Dylan: *follows while filming*
  • Eric: *opens closet*
  • Giant box: *is in closet*
  • Eric: *takes box out* good thing my parents don't search my room, they'd think I'm some kind of faggot with all this crafting supplies.
  • Dylan: *lol* reb take the camera so I can paint my godlike journal
  • Eric: *takes camera and films Dylan*
  • Dylan: *opens box* damn reb, this box is filled to the brim. It hasn't been this full since we made our godlike friendship bracelets
  • Eric: I told you I was getting shit for our crafting videos. Just paint the damn thing so we can move on
  • Dylan: *paints scrapbook black* we have to wait for it to dry now
  • Eric:
  • Dylan:
  • Eric:
  • Dylan: reb, does you mom have a hair dryer?
  • Eric: yeah but she's sleeping, we're going to have to sneak past the bed and get it out of the master bathroom
  • Dylan: ok let's go
  • Eric + Dylan: *walks upstairs*
  • Dylan: *steps on dog toy*
  • Dog toy: *makes noise*
  • Eric: FUCK, you better hope that didn't wake my parents up. how am i going to explain to them that their 18 year old son is making a scrapbook
  • Dylan: it's fine lets go
  • Eric + Dylan: *tip toes to the master bedroom door*
  • Eric: you wait out here, I'll go in and get it
  • Eric: *quietly opens door and slips inside*
  • Dylan: *films the closed door*
  • Dylan:
  • Door:
  • Dylan:
  • Sparky: *jumps on Dylan*
  • Dylan: NOOOO, get off, I hate dogs, you're going to get hair all over my trenchcoat!
  • Sparky: *is confused*
  • Sparky: *chases tail*
  • Dylan: oh my god reb hurry up
  • Door: *slowly opens*
  • Eric: *comes out with blow dryer* what the fuck was that V? We're lucky my parents didn't wake up.
  • Dylan: your dog attacked me
  • Eric: no he didn't, sparky's a good boy
  • Eric: *pets sparky* yes you are!!
  • Dylan: let's go back downstairs
  • Eric + Dylan: *sneaks downstairs*
  • Eric: *plugs in blow dryer and hands it to Dylan* there, dry it off quick
  • Dylan: *turns on blow dryer*
  • Blow dryer: *makes noise*
  • Eric: fuck, this thing is loud
  • Dylan: the paint is still wet, just wait a minute
  • Dylan: *continues blow drying scrapbook*
  • Upstairs: *makes noise*
  • Eric: fuck! Someone's awake! Turn that shit off!!
  • Dylan: wait it's almost dry
  • Staircase: *is making noises*
  • Eric: HIDE EVERYTHING!
  • Eric: *grabs the godlike scrapbooks and throws them out the window*
  • Dylan: my scrapbook!! Reb we just spent 20 minutes getting a blow dryer to dry it off and now you just throw it-
  • Door: *opens*
  • Dylan: *is holding blow dryer*
  • Eric: *is standing by the window*
  • Craft box: *lies open on the floor*
  • Eric's mom: boys! It is almost four o clock in the morning!! What on earth are you two doing?? Is that my hair dryer??!
  • Eric: *climbs out the window*
  • Dylan: *drops hair dryer* wait for me!!
  • Dylan: *climbs out the window*
  • Eric's mom: *climbs out the window* COME BACK HERE ERIC DAVID HARRIS!! DYLAN I AM CALLNG YOUR MOM!!!
  • Eric: *starting up car*
  • Dylan: *is in passenger seat*
  • Dylan: oh my god, oh my god
  • Eric: *drives away*
  • Dylan: where are we going??!
  • Eric: *is in tears* how am I going to explain all this shit to my parents??! They're going to be so disappointed in me!! Kevin is joining the marines meanwhile I'm making fucking scrapbooks in a basement!
All The Love

“Love.”

“Mm?”

“Y'hairs wet.”

You huff out a quiet “sorry” and start to scoot away but the grip of his arm around you only tightens. “No. S'okay. Just a little cold.” His feet brush against yours. “Toes are cold too.”

You close your eyes and let out a breath, wiggling the tiniest bit closer. “Yeah well. It’s cold in here.”

“Did you want me to turn the fan off?”

“No. Just keep holding me.”

He laughs quietly, kissing the back of your neck. “Okay. Want me to warm you up?”

“Mhm.”

“Need your big strong man to keep y'warm at night, hm?”

If your eyes were open, you’d roll them. You only sigh. “Harry I can just get another blanket and scoot away.”

“Noo,” he pouts, tightening his grip and tangling his feet with yours. “I wanna stay right here.”

“Then quiet down.”

He laughs again, the warmth of his breath hitting your neck as he presses another kiss into it. “Mkay. Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight.”


It’s only a matter of minutes before his voice breaks through the silence. “Love?”

You sigh. “YES Harry?”

“Don’t mean to be annoying I just… m'really proud of you.” Your ears seem to perk up at this, and your eyes open, though you don’t attempt to turn around. He only continues. “Mean it. I love you. I know y'arent so happy right now but you’re strong. You’re pushing through it and I love that about you. And I love loving you. And being able to be close to you like this when we sleep. Even if your toes are freezing.”

You giggle, and he presses another kiss to your neck. “M'serious though. Things are gonna work out, mm? Just keep going. And know that m'always gonna be right here at the end of every day.” With another kiss and an almost whisper of “I love you,” he gives you a soft squeeze around your midsection.

You sigh, reaching down to interlace your fingers with his and stroke your thumb along the back of his hand. “I love you too, cheeseball. You’re so sappy”

He lets out an offended little squeak and you giggle, squeezing his hand. “Really though. Thank you.”

You lay there in the silence, soaking up the love before he presses his nose affectionately to your neck. You can hear the smile in his voice. “Now we can sleep.”

You giggle. “Alright. Ill see you in the morning.”

He lets out a little hum. “What do you want for breakfast? Waffles?”

“Can you make waffles?”

“F'course I can.” He sounds almost offended and you giggle.

“GOOD. Then waffles.”

“Right.” He kisses the back of your head. “Waffles.”

“With blueberry syrup?”

“F'course.”

“And bacon?”

“Sure.”

“And whipped cream that I can eat off of all four of your nipples?”

He smirks. “Don’t push it.”

You giggle, squeezing his hand again. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, love.”

Bound II

A/N: THE STRESS LEVEL IS THROUGH THE FUCKING ROOF. I had to re write this entire thing bc my computer shut off and deleted the draft. I promised you guys part two today soooo here it is! Thanks for all the love! We’re almost at 300 followers, yall! Thats the craic lol. Enjoy!


Y/n is lying in her bed, still only dressed in a purple blanket but the biggest grin is plastered on her face. She and Harry had formally introduced themselves to each other; they found out that they actually live in the same town. Y/n began to talk about how insane this all was but the conversation quickly drifted off to irrelevant topics. Now, she’s listening to him blabber on about his week and she can’t help but wonder how or why she’s come to enjoy this.

How did she somehow normalize the fact that she can talk to somebody through her mind? How could she actually be interested in this guy’s personal life after knowing him for less than two hours?

“So..I got it fixed but now I feel like I should just buy another car if the engine is gonna keep failing, ya know” he shares, but she’s too caught up in her thoughts to realize he asked her a question. “Y/n, you there?” he chuckled. She snaps out of her daze and apologizes. “I’m so sorry I was stuck in my head” she breathed.

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Soulmate, My Ass: Part VI [Eric Coulter x Reader]

AN: Eeeep, I’m so excited to post this one. This one is so long, I had to divide it into three parts. This is the first one. We’re building up to something here guys. Eeeeep…

PS: This is dedicated to all 1008 of you. We did it guys, we reached 1000 followers. I honestly couldn’t have done this without you and your little messages. So, keep those reviews comin’ because they literally help with my writing. Thx so much guys. 

Now, Eric, play nice!

Originally posted by ladanvm

You’ve been avoiding Eric. It was just your coping mechanism, how you deal with problems that you have no control of. You know that it was cowardly of you but you needed time.

Time, they say, heals all wounds and you were inclined to agree. 

Charlie’s death had been a shock to you since he was your first. The first life you lost in the line of duty. That and the fact that you were close only worsen the blow. But that fight in the training room that night helped. To hell with the lie you told Eric when he asked, you were pissed at him too.

That night, you went back, took a long shower and didn’t sleep until the crack of dawn, just thinking. A few hours later, you were back to work, as sharp and efficient as ever.

And life goes on. Everything went back to normal. Well, almost everything.

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Moment of Peace

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader
Prompt: Frank does his ‘job’, and you watch Max for him. A simple relationship that means more than meets the eye.
Word Count: 736 Words
Warning: Mention of blood/violence, lil angst (not really), fluff, a singular curse
A/N: I just finished both seasons of Daredevil and I love Matt and Frank???? Sm??? So instead of working on my request, I wrote this quick lil thing. Enjoy!! (pls give feedback, i’m desperate)
Tagging: @quiskcilver, @eagerfriend, @lilybutterworthstuff,


Originally posted by ffrankcastle

((gif not mine, credit to owner)) side note: that lil pout owns my ass


                Frank isn’t sure if he should be surprised, or laugh when he enters you apartment to see you sitting on your couch, typing away. Max was lying beside you, his head rested on your thigh and you both were oblivious to Frank’s presence. That was until Frank stuffed his keys, along with the spare one you gave him into his pocket. You’d given him a spare key when he was worried about waking you up in the night, but he soon found out you were quite nocturnal like him. Max’s ears perked up at the sound, and he jumped off the couch, bringing you out of your haze. You glanced over to Frank, who was kneeling down, petting his over excited dog. You had been watching Max in the evenings, while Frank was out doing his ‘nightly activities’. Although, today you had watched Max for most of the day. Frank had dropped him off around eight a.m., and then was out for the rest of the day, doing god knows what to who.

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I didn’t get much sleep last night (but what else is new) and I feel like hell so I’m not sure how much sense this will make lol. Anyways, I’m gonna torture Keith for @fevers-and-flus 😂

*

It was almost four in the morning.

It was almost four in the morning, and while Keith should have been asleep, he was lying in bed and staring at the ceiling.

A cough clawed its way out of his throat, and he found himself muffling the fit into his blankets. He swallowed, grimacing at just how badly his throat was bothering him. Each swallow felt as if someone had shoved knives down his throat, and it hurt so bad that even medication wouldn’t touch the pain.

He sniffled, and curled into himself as he started coughing again.

When the clock hit five am, and he had been lying awake for an hour, he pushed himself into a sitting position. The moment he got out of bed, his vision darkened. Keith had to bend over at his waist and hold onto his bed for support, in case he passed out.

When his vision cleared, he shuffled out into the living area. Shiro, who was a chronic insomniac, was up already, lying on the couch under a blanket and watching something on the television.

“Keith?” Shiro frowned, looking at his younger brother. “What are you doing up?”
“M'not feeling so hot.” Keith croaked, his voice rough and raspy from how much he had been coughing these last few days.
“Still?”
“Mmhmm.” He nodded, sniffling and rubbing at his eyes. He was in desperate need of more sleep - he felt weak and exhausted, and the small walk from his bedroom to the living area was enough to completely wipe him out.

Shiro was at his side, and led him to the couch.

“Here.” He said, pulling the blanket over Keith. Shiro pressed his hand to his forehead. “You feel a little warm, but nothing too alarming. What’s bothering you?”
“Throat and head.” Keith rasped. “Stomach hurts, too.”
“Do you feel nauseous?”
“A little queasy, maybe.”
“Are you going to be sick?”
“No.”
“Good. You need anything?”
“Nothing will help.” Keith moaned, coughing.
“That sounds worse.”
“It is.”
“Well shit.” Shiro sighed. “What time did you fall asleep last night?”
“Almost midnight…been up since four.”
“You need to sleep more.”
Keith shot him a flat look. “Look who’s talking. I would if I could.”
“Want to watch a movie?” Shiro asked, ruffling the younger man’s hair.
Keith’s eyelids drooped. “I’ll probably fall asleep.”
“I know. That’s the point.”
He yawned. “Yeah, okay.”
“What do you want to watch?”
“Surprise me.” Keith mumbled, nuzzling into the blankets. Shiro turned on some documentary on Netflix - just boring enough that it would lull Keith to sleep.

His plan worked. When Shiro looked over ten minutes into it, Keith was fast asleep, his face half hidden by the blanket and pillow.

“Goodnight, Keith.” Shiro said softly, hoping Keith would feel better when he woke up.

Obliviate // BTS’ Rap Monster

In which memories come and go like the fleeting breath of summer, and a broken promise to stay is rekindled four years later.

Angst, Hogwarts AU.
Word Count: 9.5k.



What if the clouds could be born a different colour? Purple, green, pink, ruddy brown, a ferocious red. The faint blue of the ocean at four in the morning when boats drift quietly with the sea sirens; the brilliant, almost heartbreaking yellow of leaves swaying in the autumn wind. Anything but white. White, with its expanse of absolute nothingness. White, with its detestable habit of passing through life without a shadow. It’s the colour that contains everything lost, abandoned, and forsaken at once; a regrettable paradox of what is ultimately empty and everything.

“I forget a lot of things when I look at you.”

Such is a pity, you sometimes think, that from the multitudes of colours which exist, from the rainbow of vivid hues that bring the universe to life, the clouds were cast off with the ugliest shade of them all. Ugly, because it is empty. Because it is something that comes with no warning and leaves without ever saying farewell.

“What my name is, how to breathe, even the fact that a whole other world exists outside of you.”

Because white, like so many other things that exist in this world, is so easily forgotten by those who once held it dear.

“I forget so much, but you know what? I don’t mind. Because as long as I’m with you, then I know everything will be alright.”

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(all together for your convenience, and with Townsend added too)

Cammie “flannel shirts with leggings,” “drinks milk out of the carton,” “hides her feelings with smiles until they molotov cocktail out of her,” “people-watches at the park” Morgan

Bex “mostly black and neutral wardrobe,” “shockingly loud burper,” “has a way less posh accent than people assume she does,” “closet Whovian” Baxter

Liz “hoodless sweatshirts and jeans,” “knows every pressure point on the human body and how to use them,” “best office accessories and aesthetics,” “cries when she’s frustrated” Sutton

Macey “shockingly good thrift shopper,” “always has perfectly painted nails,” “has read Pride and Prejudice approximately 87 times,” “has a horribly embarrassing snorting laugh” McHenry

Zach “will wear his one leather jacket until it disintegrates,” “eats too much brownie batter and never actually bakes brownies,” “is ticklish everywhere,” “is unbelievably amazing at chess” Goode

Rachel “owns an insane amount of jeans,” “sings to her plants,” “always sobs during The Notebook,” “has menstrual cramps that could bring down an elephant but still goes on her usual four mile run in the morning” Morgan

Abby “wears Victoria’s Secret almost exclusively,” “has a ridiculously high-pitched sneeze,” “works the punching bag until her knuckles bleed,” “sees every musical on Broadway within a month of its release” Cameron

Joe “reads and watches anything sci-fi,” “always puts off going to the doctor or dentist,” “owns tons of henley shirts in grays and browns,” “eats cereal dry by the mouthful even though he knows it’ll run out faster” Solomon

Edward “knows way too many random facts about Lord of the Rings,” “forgets to eat on the regular,” “grumbles in discontent at the sky when it snows,” “owns approximately 83 coffee mugs” Townsend

More than one secret

🌸 PART TWO (2) | (1)

Originally posted by kkngie

Characters: Reader X Changkyun, some other members along the way

Genre: fluff and a lil angst

Length: 1498 words

Warning(s): just some swearing

Summary: When you thought life couldn’t get any more dull, an old acquaintance makes a sudden appearance and changes the course of it.


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A Catholic Take On The New Power Rangers Movie

For those of you who don’t know me in person, I was raised in a very conservative, white, Catholic household. If you are from a Catholic family in the Arlington area you are probably aware of the newspaper called “The Catholic Herald.” If you are not familiar it is a biweekly newspaper produced by the church. Typically it’s pretty harmless, just letting people know about church activities in the area, the scores of the Catholic high schools’ sports teams, and various editorials. About once a month the newspaper reviews movies. Again, pretty harmless. The reviews usually talk about the basic plot and the suggested viewing ages. Over the last four years, I’ve gotten a laugh out of these reviews. They are very nitpicky and point out very thing that can be a “sin.” The newspaper’s suggested viewing ages is almost always a step above the actual rating.
Now why am I bringing this up and what does this have to do with Power Rangers?
How about you read the review

“A popular Saturday morning children’s show of the 1990s makes its third appearance on the big screen. But this latest adaptation, by director Dean Israelite and no fewer than five screenwriters, replaces a relatively benign concept with an ill-mannered teen drama, replete with vulgarity and inappropriate sexual talk. Five ordinary high school students (Dacre Montgomery, Naomi Scott, RJ Cyler, Ludi Lin, Becky G) discover ancient artifacts that bestow extraordinary powers, transforming them into the eponymous superheroes. They are trained by an ancient deity (voice of Bryan Cranston) to lead the fight of good over evil, and vanquish a resurrected queen (Elizabeth Banks) hell-bent on world domination. Had the film taken a more wholesome tack it would have been mindless, escapist fun for all ages. Instead, an excess of bad taste prevails.

Watch out for: Much crude humor, rough language, sexual innuendo, references to homosexuality and masturbation.

Rated: L, limited adult audience, films whose problematic content many adults would find troubling; MPAA: PG-13”

As a member of the LGBTQ+ community it is very disheartening to see this. This movie is very important to me not only as a queer woman but also as someone who is Hispanic. For once in my life I’ve found a character that I can truly see myself in, not only another Hispanic queer woman, but a superhero. Many people can relate to these updated versions of loved characters. A black, autistic teen, a loving son trying to keep things together for his mother, a “bad girl” trying to make up for past mistakes, an athlete without a career, and a queer teen trying to figure out who she is.

This is true representation.

The review does not mention the overwhelming diversity of the cast. Nor do the self-proclaimed champions of the “mentally disabled” applaud the positive and accurate depiction of being an autistic person. With articles supporting charities meant to help those who are homebound, they did not mention once how Zack stepped up to take care of his mother as a teenager.
While it may seem very redundant to mention how homophobic, and generally unwelcoming towards different individuals the Catholic church is, this is important. By reading this newspaper, parents can restrict what their children see. By reading this simple article, a teen will have to continue hiding in the closet. All of us, especially people of color and members of the queer community know what it is like to be outsiders. We have to stick together. Support positive diversity and representation in the media. Go and support this film.

I spent four years in early morning Seminary classes, and I gotta say, daily intensive bible study makes you super sensitive to certain spelling errors. Particularly when people mess up yeah (yes), yay (hooray!), and yea (biblical interjection). Particularly when people use that last one as if it’s interchangeable with the first two. 

Because I swear to god, I just read a friend’s message to me as

“Yea, and the Lord God did say that this may put a damper in things.”

anonymous asked:

Omg #3 I want to c how it goes!!

3. “Baseball cards? What are you? Five?”

Brazil. Beautiful Brazil. Harry and I had been in this amazing country for almost a full week, thoroughly enjoying our quiet time together. Promo was set to start in another month, so we had another week planned before heading back to England to visit his mum. Not having to plan out every moment of our lives has its advantages. We awoke sometime in the morning, made love as leisurely (or swiftly) as we wanted, and then take ourselves outside for the day. The weather was gorgeous, and we spent a lot of time outdoors: hiking, paragliding, touring the rainforest, bicycling, swimming in the ocean, and just soaking up the atmosphere.

Day four, a knock came while I was alone in the hotel room. Thinking Harry had lost his key, I rushed to open the door. My disappointment at the desk clerk with a package for Harry was supreme. Putting the package on the desk in the room, I stared at it, wondering what the hell Harry had needed delivered during our holiday. Part of me wanted to open it, but we weren’t at that place in our relationship yet. So I just sat on the bed, swinging my legs, waiting for Harry to return from a trip to the drugstore for some essentials. (Who knew that 2 dozen condoms wouldn’t last two weeks?)

Impatiently, I stared at the box. What could it be?

Hearing the key in the door startled me, and I felt guilty when Harry entered the room. My gaze must have telegraphed that guilty feeling because once Harry removed the key, he closed the door and caught my eyes with his.

“What did you do?” he asked in his accusing tone.

“Nothing!” I answered quickly, “I should be asking you the same question.”

HIs confused look cleared up when I pointed to the package on the desk. Like a child, his face lit up, “They came!” Rushing to the table, he used his room key to tear the tape off of the package.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I moved to stand next to him as he opened the small box. “Baseball cards? What are you? Five?” I squawked when I saw the contents.

Harry looked a bit dismayed at my words, protectively turning himself to block the box from me as he carefully took out the packages of baseball cards. Without a word to me (which is how I knew he was hurt by my comment), he stuffed several of the packages in his pockets.

“You’re not even going to tell me why you bought baseball cards and had them delivered to our room during holiday?” I demanded.

“Nope,” was his only response, “I’m going down to the beach. You’re not ready yet, so I’ll just meet you there.” With those words, he left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Damn. Obviously I had upset him. But seriously? He’s a grown man! Why was he having baseball cards sent to Brazil? Changing into my swimsuit, I grabbed a towel to head to the beach myself. Upon arriving there, I spotted Harry pretty quickly, surrounded as he usually is by fans. Resolving to not press him about the stupid baseball cards, I stalked over to our umbrella, laying my towel down. It was at this point that I noticed that most of those encircling him were boys. Young boys. They were talking excitedly to him, holding up some object in their hands, pointing and gesticulating. That’s when the awareness hit me, and a tingle ran from the top of my skull all the way to my toes.

Baseball cards. Harry and the boys were looking at the baseball cards he’d bought, and he was laughing with them, carefree. My boyfriend was making friends with the locals, and I had ridiculed him. I was going to pay for this. Burying my face in my hands, I resolved in that moment to apologize to Harry in the most carnal way possible.

One Line Prompts

notfeelingtoowell  asked:

(It's time! It's almost four in the morning by the way XD) Okay. So. Yurio is hella young. And being young and maintaining such a high level as a skater. Which causes anxiety and stress. This happens to me. When I'm really stressed or really anxious I get awful migraines. Imagine Turin getting one of these insufferable little shits right before competition. Maybe that's one of the reasons he was sobbing after Allegro Appassionato™ In episode 12 -Galaxy

Setting the new record in the short program feels like a dream come true to Yuri. He doesn’t really let his nerves get to him in the days leading up to the free skate, too busy riding on the high of his win. As the competition comes closer, though, Yuri’s anxiety trickles back in. He’s finally feeling the pressure-to win, to show that his short program wasn’t a fluke, to represent Russia.

Yuri had planned to spend the day before the competition practicing until he can barely stand, to ensure that his routine was perfect and so that he’d be able to sleep the night before. Lilia and Yakov veto this idea, not wanting him to over exert himself, so instead Yuri does a light practice and spends the rest of the day nervously pacing the length of his hotel room. The other skaters are all still practicing-like he should be-plus Yuri isn’t sure that going sightseeing in this state is such a good idea.

After forcing himself to eat a little dinner, Yuri decides to go to bed early, to ensure that he’s well rested for tomorrow. His plan doesn’t work out, however, as he spends the night tossing and turning in bed, occasionally drifting off into brief snatches of sleep, only to wake up gasping and panting from gut-wrenching nightmares about losing.

By the time morning rolls around, Yuri is an exhausted, frazzled mess. His head is throbbing and it feels like his eyes are being stabbed with hundreds of tiny needles. When he turns on the light in the bathroom, it turns out to be too much for his aching head, and he barely has any warning before a rush of vomit forces it’s way up his throat and into the sink.

Continuing to gag, Yuri manages to bring up the little bit of food he ate last night, but his stomach still isn’t satisfied and he’s left dry heaving for another ten minutes before he regains control. The retching has amplified the pain in his skull, but Yuri squares his shoulders and wipes his face with a washcloth. He’s got his free skate program to do, and he’s not about to be stopped by a little headache.

That’s much easier said than done, though. Yuri easily manages to avoid eating breakfast, waving his coaches off and insisting that he ate a protein bar. They’re used to his lack of appetite before a competition, so they don’t question it.

Warmups, on the other hand, are pure torture. Each jump feels like a knife being stabbed through his head, and each spin makes his stomach lurch sickeningly. Somehow he manages to make it through without falling over-in fact, Yakov and Lilia say that his form is better than ever-but as soon as he’s done he immediately scrambles to the locker room to empty his already painfully deserted stomach. The harsh heaves make the intense throbbing behind his eyes way worse, but at least his stomach seems to settle a little.

He vaguely watches the other skaters (his eyes are closed more often than not in an effort to block out the bright stadium lights), but forces himself to pay attention to Yuuri’s performance; he can’t believe that this is the same skater that was crying in the bathroom after the last Grand Prix. Yuuri’s world-record breaking performance only fuels Yuri’s determination to win today; he’s going to give this free skate everything he has.

His conversation with Victor about the Katsudon’s future is a welcome distraction from his pounding headache, not to mention the fact that it gives him an extra shot of rage to energize himself. How dare Yuuri just quit after that! He takes a deep breath to focus and steel himself before stepping out onto the ice, gracefully returning Otabek’s cry of “Davai!” with a thumbs up. It’s his turn to shine. He’s going to push himself through the pain and win this.

Yuri is gasping in pain by the time he finishes his routine. Between the exertion and all the jumps and spins, the throbbing in his head has worsened to an almost unbearable level. He lets out a cry of mixed relief and agony, before collapsing to his knees, tears streaming down his face. The pain is overwhelming and excruciating and he continues to sob in the middle of the rink, lacking the energy to even consider getting up. Even the thought of trying makes him feel exhausted.

He doesn’t hear the person that comes onto the ice to help him over his own crying, and jumps when he feels someone gently touch his arm. Looking up through blurry eyes, he recognizes Otabek. Silently, without a word, Otabek slips an arm around Yuri’s shoulders and helps him off the ice. Yuri doesn’t fight it, just presses his face into Otabek’s shoulder to block out the light. They’ve just stepped off the rink when Yuri’s stomach jumps into his throat; there’s no warning, so he ends up spewing all over Otabek. “So-sorry,” he manages to croak out between gasps.

“It’s alright, Yuri,” Otabek says, steering him to the nearest trash can. Yuri retches fruitlessly over it for a couple minutes before falling back against Otabek in exhaustion. His head is spinning and throbbing in equal measures, and his stomach feels like it’s on fire. “You did well today, soldier,” Otabek tells him. His deep voice is soothing and reassuring. “Let’s get you cleaned up before the awards ceremony.”