ice fever

Yuri on Ice fever just keeps haunting me

I consider myself a fan of Yuri On Ice.

And I also follow all figure skating competitions through YouTube for y e a r s because in my country you can’t find that sport on tv. (I don’t know why bc is a beautiful sport tbh). 

But you really need to stop, guys. The is haunting me.

I don’t know how is this possible but I FIND A YOI COMMENT ON EVERY FIGURE SKATING VIDEO. E V E R Y  S I N G L E  O N E. 

It’s funny how some people find videos from 10 years ago lol.

(Don’t you ever dare to say that Plushenko is “almost as good as Viktor” tho, because i will have no mercy. Plushenko is a freaking legend beyond any comparisons.)

It’s good, however, have good people who had come to appreciate this beautiful sport thanks to Yuri on Ice. That’s a very positive outcome.

How yoi plays with sports story scheme

I was wondering recently why Yuri on Ice seemed to be so different and fresh to me and why so many people get so emotionally engaged with it. There is definitely a nice animation and great characters and representation and such a beautiful love story but I felt like there was something in the narration layer that I couldn’t name until I compared yoi storyline to the most common schemes.

When you look at most of the pop cultural stories, especially those where main plot focuses on sport, you’ll see that there is that one scheme they all follow - you have a hero who has talent but lacks something (like a good mentor or hard work or confidence), he finds a motivation to win (it may be anything from parent’s death to wish to impress a girl) and he finds a dedicated coach, he trains, he loses, he learns something about himself, he wins, he gets an award. This is the basic way of constructing such stories and it’s catchy because we all want to believe that we are able to fight our weaknesses and win by ourselves. You may modify this scheme to a large extent but the main core will always be a single hero who needs to grow in order to win and actually I think that this scheme is present in Yuri on Ice but in Yurio’s not Yuuri’s story. Yurio has talent, lacks hard work and needs to learn something about himself, his skate-off with Yuuri gives him a motivation to win, he trains hard, he loses, he grows, he wins. This doesn’t make his story or his character less interesting but I wanted to give you an example of what am I talking about so I could compare it to Yuuri’s story.

So now, where is Yuuri’s plot different you could say. Well, in a way you could find all those elements in Yuuri’s story too but his development is where it all turns to be innovative. You see in the basic scheme the hero needs to learn to win by himself while Yuuri has got to that point a long time ago. He had all of that: his motivation, his hard work, most of his abilities, his own strength before he met Victor. He was fighting by himself for five years before and even if his anxiety makes him look like a weak loser it is obvious he is already beyond that “learning about myself” phase. Even this confidence Victor helps him to find he already had just hidden. Yuuri knows his emotions and some of his strengths and most of the weak points himself and either he wins or loses those minor competitions it doesn’t change him too deeply. But what Victor gives him is the belief that he doesn’t have to fight by himself anymore. Not in a “you can learn from other people” or “teamwork is important” kind of way (’cause they are still used in most of the stories) but in acknowledging that you may become better if you let someone close to you (this lesson applies to Victor to btw but he is not the main hero so I’ll skip this part). 

I won’t say this reverses the scheme completely as this is still some kind of personal development that helps to win (though the fact that Yuuri does not finally win is interesting by itself) but it definitely changes the subtext of the whole story.  We like stories about heroes fighting by themselves because we often struggle with our problems alone and we need to believe me can do it. But Yuri on Ice gives us the idea that thought you are strong enough to fight maybe you don’t have to fight alone at all. I guess this is why it has such a great emotional impact because in a world that tells you all the time that it’s only for you to win the story of someone who still needed help even if he already was strong and beautiful is really hopeful, positive and in a way more realistic then the basic “hero can only win by himself” scheme. 

There is also the whole layer of how Victor doesn’t fit to the standard portrayal of a mentor figure but I think this is quite easy to spot and maybe let’s not make this longer than it has to be but the last quick reflection I had is that the most common way of portraying romantic relationships in the sports stories is either when the hero needs to sacrifice his relationship in order to focus (which is the trope I personally hate) or when he wins the attention of his love interest by winning the final competition (so the love is somehow a reward then). What is great in Yuuri and Victor’s relationship is how Yuuri doesn’t have to win to prove his worth to Victor. Almost from the beginning, Victor knows Yuuri’s flaws and he falls for him anyway. So Yuuri is not only given support that helps him to become better but also he doesn’t need to earn that support. Which I think again is quite moving because everyone dreams of this kind of relationship. We are all scared that we are not good enough to let someone help us in the first place and this is where yoi tells us it doesn’t have to be this way.

I’m sure there are much more tropes that are reversed in yoi and there is the whole narration layer that is also quite original but as storytelling is what I have the most experience with I decided to focus on this aspect only. And I may be wrong I just like to find and discuss narration schemes so please argue if you disagree but I love the fact that even when yoi takes those basic narration schemes it uses it to send a very positive message across and for me it could be a reason why there is such an enthusiastic fandom around it - because this anime exchanges the story of fighting alone for a story about growing in a relationship though it does not change a sports story for a cheaply romantic one.

2

Yuuri saying those Big Three Words to Viktor for the first time

Viktor can’t handle it. He can not handle it. Viktor.exe has broken down. 

Magical side effects

Magic types should have repercussions if used poorly or too much

Fire
A fever
Mania

Ice
A cold
Chills

Earth
Stiff muscles
Depression

Water
Feel like your drowning when you start to go to sleep
Random visions where the room is underwater

Air
Paranoia
Auditory hallucinations

Storm
Bipolar
Irritability

Like they should be incredibly medical

Just imagine going to the doctor and they say “lay off the fire magic, ok?”

And magic users make tonics and potions for all those ailments. That’s why magic users can make a business off of healing, because they themselves and friends and family have recipes that run in the family to cure those things

I’ve had this idea since the YoI Tangled AU happened but I dismissed the idea because of many factors, but:

Would anyone be interested in a mini-zine for the Tangled AU? I’d remake some of the sketches and could add some new ones to make it prettier and more tempting ahah

I’m still working to fix the paypal issues that keep me from withdrawing funds for printing+shipping, so this may happen soon, later, or never happen at all (sobs). However, I’d like to know your opinions just in case this could happen :>

Sick Yuuri/Viktor request

The tumblr app ate an ask… again 😑…
Anyway, @dontfeelsogood requested a fic with both Yuuri and Viktor sick and taking care of each other. I hope could do them justice, it was a lot of fun to write.

Warning: Descriptions of vomiting below the cut!

***

Yuuri woke up feeling absolutely horrible. His head throbbed, his stomach was in knots and despite the covers, that should have been heated up by his body over the night, he was shivering. He was definitely sick. But he had a competition in a week from now, so there was no way he could miss out on training.

The black haired skater groaned and tried to sit up, only to be met with a horrible spell of dizziness. He sat on the edge of his bed, holding his head and waited for the world to stop spinning. When he could see more or less straight, he took his glasses from the night table, put them on and got up carefully.

He got dressed and went down for a small breakfast, a bowl of rice with some egg, and tried to ignore the angry churning of his stomach. His mother told him, that Viktor had already left, so he took his jacket immediately after finishing, put on his shoes and went after his coach.

When he stepped outside, he couldn’t suppress a shiver going down his spine. Despite the sun shining it felt terribly cold to him. Well, he would get warmer when he started to jog.

Halfway to the ice rink, ‘though, Yuuri had to stop. His head was spinning and his stomach really hurting now from all the jostling. He took a deep breath to calm down and then continued at a slower pace. He desperately tried not to think about what skating would do to him in that state.

When he finally arrived at the rink, Viktor was already there, standing in the middle of the ice with a pensive expression on his face. He turned around when he heard the door and a smile crossed his face when he saw his boyfriend.

“Yuuri, finally! I already thought you wouldn’t grace me with your presence today!” he exclaimed cheerfully. Yuuri just managed a weak smile in response. That seemed to catch Viktor’s attention. He skated closer to his protégé and gave him a once over with narrowed eyes.

“Don’t bother putting on your skates. You’re going back home”, he then announced in a stern voice.

“Wha—but I have to practice for the competition next week!” Yuuri started to protest. “I’m still not good enough at the quads in the second half and – “

“You’re pale, tired looking, shivering and swaying on your feet”, Viktor listed, crossing his arms. “You’re clearly sick, so there’s no way I can let you skate today, not as your coach and definitely not as your boyfriend!”

Yuuri let out a defeated sigh and slumped down on one of the benches. He knew that there was no arguing with Viktor now, and to be honest he was relieved that he didn’t have to train. He probably would have passed out or thrown up on the ice. Or both. And he sure as hell didn’t want that.

He closed his eyes exhaustedly, only to startle and open them again when something cool was pressed against his forehead.

“You definitely have a fever,” Viktor stated and drew his hand back again and sat down next to him. “Anything else wrong?”

Yuuri shivered. “Head hurt’s. Stomach too…” he mumbled and leaned against his boyfriend, resting his head on the other’s shoulder. “ ‘n feel dizzy…”

“Do you think you’re going to be sick?” Viktor asked concerned. Yuuri shrugged. He really wasn’t sure, his stomach felt really weird.

“God, how did you even make it here, darling?” the silver haired man sighed and ran his hand through his boyfriend’s hair. Yuuri just shrugged again and moved closer to Viktor.

“I’ll call your father to have him come and pick us up with the car,” the Russian decided. Yuuri nodded. That sounded like a very good idea.

Keep reading

Burnout

@feelingalittlesick, here’s Victor with pneumonia for that anon! This is set after the short program at the Rostellacon Cup. My first time writing pneumonia, so I hope that it turned out okay! I write Yuri P. as Yuri and Yuuri K. as Yuuri. Enjoy!

Victor is unusually quiet after they watch Yuri compete. Yuuri can’t help but worry; Victor was his normal energetic self earlier, after he competed, but he knows that his coach is getting sick. He’s heard the coughing that Victor has been attempting to hide, how it’s gotten rougher and more ragged, leaving Victor barely able to catch his breath.

“Let’s get back to the hotel,” Yuuri suggests. Victor looks even paler than normal, except for his flushed cheeks, and his usual grace has abandoned him. Yuuri wants to check for a fever, but he knows that if he tries, Victor will just duck away and insist that he’s fine.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Victor replies hoarsely. The words send him into yet another coughing fit that the older skater attempts to muffle in his hands. It doesn’t work very well, and Yuuri winces at the sound of the deep, chesty coughs. The fit drags on for what seems like an eternity, leaving Victor gasping and breathless.

Yuuri’s concern spikes when Victor slumps against him, not even bothering to pretend that he’s fine anymore. He doesn’t say anything though, just wraps an arm around his waist and steers his coach towards the exit. Victor is unsteady on his feet, and their progress is slow. Yuuri wishes that he could take Victor to the doctor, but he knows that the suggestion will be rejected outright.

Finally, the doors are in sight, and Yuuri allows himself to hope that they’ll make it out of here without incident, when Victor stops suddenly. “Victor?” he asks.

All the color has drained from his face, and he’s swaying on his feet. “D-dizzy,” Victor manages to stammer out.

Panicking, Yuuri scrambles to think of what to do. Should he call an ambulance? But he doesn’t know what number to call! He desperately searches the room for assistance, when Victor’s knees buckle and he collapses.

Yuuri yelps, startled, and barely manages to catch him before his head hits the ground. He sits down carefully, pulling Victor’s head into his lap. “Victor?” he gasps, gently patting his face, but his coach is out cold. Yuuri’s mind is racing, desperate for a solution, when salvation arrives in the form of Yakov and Yuri.

“Don’t eat too many piroshkis tomorrow,” Yakov is saying to his student, when he spots Yuuri and Victor. He rushes over immediately, Yuri trailing awkwardly behind. “What happened?” Yakov demands, concern making his voice sharp.

Yuuri flinches at his tone. “He just fainted all of a sudden!” he babbles.

Yakov pats Victor’s cheeks, before withdrawing his hand with a wince. “He’s burning up! How long has he been sick?”

“A couple of days,” Yuuri answers, hanging his head. “I tried to get him to go to the doctor, but he wouldn’t listen!” Behind them, Yuri watches with an unusual lack of sarcastic comments, his green eyes wide.

“That’s Vitya for you,” Yakov mutters, followed by a stream of Russian curses when Victor coughs himself awake. The cough sounds even worse than earlier. “Well, how are you feeling?” he demands as Victor opens his eyes blearily.

“Not so great,” Victor admits, his voice raspy and weak.

“Not surprising, given the fever you’re running. You’re going to the hospital,” Yakov orders.

“What? No! I can’t go to the hospital, I have to coach Yuuri!”

“Victor,” Yuuri begins, ready to tell Victor that his health should be more important to him than Yuuri’s skating career.

Yakov interrupts him. “I’ll coach him. You’ll be lucky if you’re well enough by the Grand Prix Finals!” He orders Yuri to call the paramedics, and the teenager whips out his cell phone. “Who knows? Maybe with a decent coach, your student might actually amount to something.”

Victor frowns at the insult, opening his mouth to retort, but he’s cut off by more coughing. Yuuri bites his lip. He definitely wasn’t expecting the Rostellacon Cup to go like this.

Thank You for Being You...

Hey Bros!!!

I AM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE! Please don’t kill me- haha. Okay, requested by @shipping-it-like-fedex for a sick Vik not wanting Yuuri to know he was sick because of his past experiences. I mention (what I believe) how Viktor’s childhood kind of went down considering we don’t know that much about him… so yeah. Hope it’s okay. Hope to post a few more fics by the end of the week… like I seriously need to work on my Voltron sick Keith. Okay. Later brobros!

……………………………………………………………

The first time he’d been sick during a competition, he was 9. Afterwards, through a fevered haze and river of tears, he remembered his parents yelling because he had lost despite still proceeding to the nationals. The last time he’d been sick, he had wound up in the hospital after passing out in the hotel lobby while giving an interview about his latest win. He didn’t remember much, except the awful headache that followed as he pried his eyes open to the harsh lights and loud monitors in the hospital room. He remembered being confused, and like most teenagers, scared, questioning the location of his parents.
His parents hadn’t been there, not because they hadn’t cared, but because they had cared about the wrong thing. He remembered turning on the television a day later to see his father giving an interview about Viktor’s latest win at Nationals, and watching his mother give a tearful speech about the state of health her only son was in. Not that he really remembered much but according to the nurse, Viktor’s parents hadn’t been to see him once. This really wasn’t surprising to him, but it didn’t mean it hurt any less. And it hadn’t been until Yakov had driven to the hospital to take him home, that Viktor finally understood and broke down, crying.
Since then, Viktor had been pretty good about staying healthy, overlooking illnesses, and knowing his limits. But now, despite the 3 aspirin he’d swallowed an hour ago, Viktor was finding it hard to stay focused. He brought his hand to his mouth, coughing harshly, wincing as the cold air from the rink touched his raw throat. He didn’t really want to be here, but since it involved Yuuri, Viktor would do anything he could to ensure his fiancé’s happiness. He felt pride swell in his chest as he watched his boyfriend skate to the center of the ice, and waved cheerfully as Yuuri glanced in his direction. He leaned against the rail heavily, fighting the urge to drop his head against the cold metal, and squinted towards Yuuri’s direction. His head was killing him.
“He doesn’t know you’re sick, eh geezer?” Someone said softly. Viktor turned to see Yurio standing next to him, his hair pulled back in a tight braid, and a big hoodie swallowing his tiny frame. Viktor stood up straighter, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not sick,” he said roughly. God even his voice was hoarse.
Yurio snorted, turning to give Viktor a questionable look, “Yeah, whatever you have to tell yourself, Vitya. Look, I’ve known you a lot longer than that pig, so he might not be able to tell when you’re ill, but I can… also, Yakov told me.” Yurio said, pointing behind him. Viktor turned to see Yakov talking to some reporters, his eyes fixed on Viktor. Viktor coughed softly, and turned back around to watch Yuuri. He should have known Yakov would know something was off, he always did. Yakov was always good at knowing that kind of thing, which made lying to him difficult because he could read Viktor like a book- it probably didn’t help that Viktor had lived with him and Lilia for a few months either, so Yakov knew more about Viktor than most people. Viktor felt something jab him in the ribs, and turned back to face the Russian punk, an eyebrow raised. Yurio pulled the ponytail from his hair, running his hand through the tight braids, “I’m camping in Ota’s room tonight. No telling what germs old people carry. Da?”
Viktor smirked slightly before nodding. Yurio sighed loudly, turning to leave, “You won’t be able to hide it for long Viktor. Besides Yuuri isn’t anything like your parents… that would be creepy.” The teenager thrust his hands in his pockets, and bumped Viktor’s shoulder gently, before walking back over to Yakov. Viktor swallowed and turned back towards the ice. He closed his eyes as the room began to spin and waited for the music to start. He knew Yurio was right, he wouldn’t be able to hide it for long. He shuddered as his mother’s face flashed across his mind.

………………………………………………………………………………….

She was standing over him, yelling at him while he clutched at the blisters on his left foot. Blood had begun to soak through his sock, and he yanked it off to reveal the cuts and bruises littering his heel. He remembered crying, begging his mother for a break, watching the other 5-year-olds pushing each other on the ice playfully. He just wanted to be like them…

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Viktor cleared his throat as he opened his eyes. The music had begun to play and he watched as Yuuri danced gracefully over the ice. He smiled brightly. God, he loved that pork cutlet bowl, more than anything in the world. He swallowed loudly, feeling a wave of nausea wash over him. He leaned further against the rail, waiting for it to pass. He started feeling ill when they woke up yesterday, but it wasn’t until this morning that Viktor realized that choking down a few extra vitamins weren’t going to help him.
He breathed shallowly, listening to the music, hoping for a distraction. He ran his hand through his hair again and cleared his throat. His vision wavered again and Viktor wondered how much aspirin he’d be able to consume within the next 10 minutes without dying. He coughed again, and turned to look at Yakov once more. Yakov had finished his interview and instead stood in front of Yurio, his hands waving madly. A small smile crossed over Viktor’s face- Yurio was most likely in trouble, like always.
The crowd cheered and Viktor thrust his attention back towards Yuuri. Yuuri had nailed one of his jumps. Viktor’s smile grew even bigger and he waved again as Yuuri glanced towards him.
……………………………………………………………………………

Once Yuuri’s feet touched the carpet, Viktor knew he needed to leave. Yuuri’s performance had been phenomenal, and if Viktor wasn’t currently fighting a losing battle with his stomach, he would have run onto the ice to shower his fiancé in praise and kisses. Now however, Viktor was finding it hard to see straight; his head was pounding viciously and the lights from the arena felt like tiny daggers digging into his skull every time one flashed in his direction. He grabbed their bags off the floor harshly, and headed towards the locker room hearing Yuuri calling after him. Viktor closed his eyes for a second as a wave of dizziness washed over him, and put his hand to his head, trying to rub his headache away. He leaned against the wall, wincing as Yuuri’s scores were called over the loud speaker. A smile broke out over his face, Yuuri was in 2nd place so far.
“Viktor! Viktor, did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?” Yuuri said softly, grabbing a hold of Viktor’s wrist. Viktor felt his blood run cold as he opened his eyes and looked down at the tears gathering in Yuuri’s eyes. He wiped them away softly with tip of his thumb, biting his lip, feeling another wave of nausea wash over him. He swallowed thickly, and shook his head. He tried to smile, honestly, he did, but his headache was getting worse, making everything blurry and bright. He glanced up at the harsh lights above them, wincing as the next skater was announced over the intercom. He really needed to leave. He felt a gentle tug on his sleeve and looked down once more to see Yuuri staring at him, worry painted across his face. Great, Viktor was making him panic. He felt guilty.
“Y-you were amazing love,” he said gently. His voice wavered and Viktor swallowed again because it was all that he could manage right now. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be around paparazzi and people with camera phones, the idea of causing another big scene so soon after Yurio’s “vomit fest,” made chills run down Viktor’s spine… or maybe that was the fever, he wasn’t really sure. He really didn’t want to be here… especially with Yuuri. He didn’t want Yuuri to know he was sick but he had a feeling that ship was about to sail.
He pulled his hand out of Yuuri’s grasp and stifled a cough. He felt the bags drop from his shoulder. It really didn’t matter if he was sick now, because, considering Viktor shared a room and a bed with Yuuri, his pork cutlet would find out eventually. Like Yurio said, Viktor couldn’t hide it forever, no matter how much he wanted too. Yuuri’s nothing like your parents Vitya…

………………………………………………………………………………………

Viktor stifled a cough behind his hand and took a shallow breath. He could hear his parent’s cheering from the sidelines and he bit back a wince. He could feel blood beginning to seep through his right sock from the rigorous practice he’d had every single day leading up to this competition. He didn’t really mind it, but since his parents were strict, this made certain situations 10x worse.
He closed his eyes and waited for the music to begin, wiping some sweat that had begun to form on his forehead. He felt like shit, and the blood from one of the blisters on his foot, wasn’t helping. He coughed again, feeling a wave of nausea course through him and he swallowed loudly. There was no way in hell he was going to tell his parents he was sick, just like there was no way in hell he was going to mention that he spent the whole night in the bathroom, puking up, what had to be, everything that he’d eaten in last few days.
The last time he’d told them he was sick, they’d forced him to choke down like 8 Tylenol and then drove him to practice. It wasn’t until he practically fainted on the ice, that Yakov sent him home stating that if he didn’t feel well, he shouldn’t be practicing. His parents weren’t abusive, just harsh. They hated it when he got sick, not because he was ill, but because he couldn’t preform or do his best- because he couldn’t win.
He sneezed loudly and opened his eyes to a spinning arena. He blinked a few times, blocking out the praises coming from his mother, and looked over at Yakov. He snorted as he watched Yakov stand next to his parents, motionless, a scowl present on his face. He turned back towards the lights, feeling his body begin to shake. This wasn’t good. He had an interview in the hotel lobby after this about next season, and he wasn’t even sure if he could make it through his competition. He sighed loudly as the music started.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

“Viktor? Are you okay?” Yuuri asked softy. Viktor blinked a few times as Yuuri’s face came back into focus. He had zoned out, that tended to happen when he was feverish. He nodded slowly as his stomach flipped, and he gulped loudly. He took a shallow breath, realizing his breakfast was going to make a reappearance very soon. Viktor looked around the hallway, spotting the locker room a few feet ahead, and pushed past Yuuri.
He made it about 10 feet before his legs gave out and he slammed against the wall, hard. He heard Yuuri yelp, and felt a strong hand wrap around his torso and shoulder, pulling him up. The room did a full 180 and Viktor clenched his eyes shut. He felt his feet moving but he wasn’t really sure where he was being directed, but he hoped it was somewhere with a bathroom. He groaned loudly as his stomach lurched and he swallowed compulsively. “It’s okay Vitya. Hang in there a little bit longer,” he heard Yuuri say softy. He felt the grip around his torso tighten and assumed Yuuri was to one holding him up.
His stomach lurched again and Viktor forced his eyes open. The locker room swirled in a multitude of colors and it took everything Viktor had to keep his eyes open. His breathing quickened slightly, and he felt a warmth wash over him as Yuuri opened one of the stall door towards the end. Viktor pushed away from Yuuri dizzily and smacked against the tiled floor, choking up the acidic bile and predigested food. He coughed harshly, sucking in a sharp breath as he hung his head over the toilet weakly. It took him a second before he realized Yuuri’s hand was on his back, and he glanced to his left slightly to see his fiancé sitting next to him, concern etching across his face.
Viktor’s stomach heaved again and he thrust his head back towards the ceramic basin, lurching violently. He didn’t want Yuuri to be here. He didn’t want Yuuri to yell at him, or to be mad… like his parents always did/ were. He wasn’t really sure if he could take that right now.
He exhaled shakily, hearing Yuuri saying something but he was too tired to listen. He scooted back against the wall and struggled to pull his arm from his jacket. He felt Yuuri grab his arm gently and tug his jacket off before hanging it on one of the hooks on the door. Viktor groaned again, leaning his head against the wall weakly. He wanted to go back to the hotel and sleep… and for the room to stop spinning. He felt sweat drip down his face and tried to move his hand to wipe it from his cheeks, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick!” Yuuri said softly, wiping some of the sweat from Viktor’s forehead gently with his jacket sleeve. He felt guilt wash over him. He was Viktor’s fiancé, he should have known. Yuuri pressed his lips gently against Viktor’s forehead, letting out a small gasp as he felt the heat burning against his lips. Viktor looked up dazedly, seeing the tears welling in Yuuri’s eyes again, and swallowed the lump in his throat. Yuuri looked hurt. Viktor bit his bottom lip as his father’s voice echoed through his mind and his mother’s disappointed gaze was cast upon him. If you can’t skate or interview with a small fever and a stomachache, then you shouldn’t be a skater Vitya!
Viktor felt tears streaming down his face as he let out a half-choked sob, pulling his knees towards him, trying to hug his body. He cast his gaze towards Yuuri’s feet, not wanting to look his fiancé in the eye, not wanting to see the disappointment. He coughed again as he sucked in a ragged breath.
“I-I’m sorry Yuuri! Please don’t be mad,” Viktor sobbed harshly. He clutched his knees to his chest as he continued to cry. He glanced up at Yuuri to see a panicked look painted across his face, and Viktor swallowed loudly. He felt snot dripping from his nose as tears streamed down his face and he choked back another sob, “Please Yuuri. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”
Yuuri stared at Viktor, panicked worry coursing through his veins. He bit his lip, pulling some tissues from the box in Viktor’s bag, and tried his best to wipe the tears that ran down his fiancé’s face. He had never seen Viktor like this. Yuuri felt his breathing hitch slightly.
“Vik- Vitya, baby, I’m not mad. I would never be mad over something you couldn’t control. Oh god, Viktor honey, please stop crying, please calm down,” Yuuri felt his throat tighten and he sucked in a shaky breath. He needed to calm down, he needed to breath, he was on the verge of having a panic attack, and something told him that that wouldn’t help Viktor’s current situation. He grasped one of Viktor’s hands in his, more for his benefit than Viktor’s because he needed to feel something right now, something to keep him from panicking. It was different when Yurio was sick because Yuuri had Viktor to rely on. But now, well Yuuri hardly doubted the smaller Russian would be able to help him; besides, Viktor was his fiancé so Yuuri needed to figure this out on his own.
Yuuri rummaged in his bag, grabbing his water bottle, unscrewing the cap and shaking it gently in front of Viktor. Viktor shook his head, pushing it away from him, tears still streaming down his pale face. Yuuri bit his lip, “Viktor, honey, I k-know you think I’m mad, but I promise you, I’m not. I’m so sorry but I-I really need you to calm down, otherwise I’m going to h-have a panic attack, and that won’t help either of us right now.”
Viktor looked at Yuuri, and Yuuri felt his heart snap into a million pieces. Viktor’s eyebrows scrunched together, confusion masking over his face as he stared at Yuuri. Tears were water falling down his face, and Yuuri sucked in another harsh breath. Viktor looked so lost and innocent, and it hurt to see him like this. Yuuri coughed and bit his lip as understanding washed over Viktor’s features. He nodded softly, wiping away some of the tears and snot spilling down his face.
Viktor let out a harsh cough, groaning softly. He felt another wave of dizziness wash over him as Yuuri shook the water once more in front of his face. He was tired, and hot. The jacket that he’d stripped from his body haphazardly hadn’t helped lessen the heat that flowed through his body. He grabbed the water, raising to his mouth shakily and took several sloppy drinks before handing it back to Yuuri.
He felt his stomach flip as bile rushed up his throat and Viktor thrust his head over the toilet, puking up the small amount of water he had just consumed and what little stomach acid he had left. He groaned loudly as he felt Yuuri’s hand on his back, and turned weakly to see a double image of his fiancé. “I-I need to lie d-down,” he whispered softly, wincing as the words raked against his already raw throat. He moved slowly, resting his head in Yuuri’s lap, curling his long legs to his chest as the room continued to spin.
“I-I don’t feel well Yuuri,” Viktor choked out, closing his eyes. Yuuri sighed loudly, pressing his hand against Viktor’s forehead again. Viktor was burning up, and despite caring for a sick Yurio several times before, Yuuri had no idea how to care for a sick Viktor. Yuuri let out another shaky breath, “I know honey, and I’m really sorry. How about I call a cab, and help you off this dirty floor. We’ll go back to the hotel and you can go to sleep. I think we still have some left-over flu medicine from when Yurio got sick a few weeks ago… I saw it in one of the bags yesterday. I guess I forgot to take it out. Does that sound okay?”
Viktor nodded weakly. He let out another sigh, listening to Yuuri talking to someone on the phone, who Viktor could only assume through his fevered haze, was the cabbie. He felt Yuuri shift his legs under his head and whimpered loudly, hugging his knees tighter to his chest. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry Viktor,” Yuuri said quickly, stiffening, not wanting to cause his fiancé anymore unnecessary discomfort. He ran his hand over Viktor’s sweaty back, listening to the cheers and claps coming from the crowd outside. He gripped his phone tightly in his hand waiting for the cabbie to call, and wondered slightly, if Viktor couldn’t stand on his own, how he was going to help him to the car, considering the Russian was noticeably taller than him.
Yuuri shook this thought away as he wiped some tears that continued to fall from Viktor’s eyes. Viktor opened his eyes slowly, gazing up at Yuuri; his blue eyes clouded with fevered exhaustion. Yuuri bent down and kissed the side of Viktor’s temple gently, smiling slightly as he heard Viktor sigh. “Vitya, can I ask you a question?” He asked softly, running his fingers through the loose sweaty strands of Viktor’s silver hair. He felt the Russian skater nodded slightly, choking out a soft, “Da.”
Yuuri took a breath, “Why would you ever think I was mad?”
Viktor cringed, new tears pricking at his eyes now, and despite the dizziness that still enveloped him, he pushed himself off the floor and away from Yuuri weakly, pressing his overheated back against the tiled wall. He swallowed quickly as his stomach tried to readjust to the sudden movement and smack his head against the wall behind him, closing his eyes again. He crossed his arms over his stomach lazily and flinched as he felt something cool touch his forehead. It took him a few fevered minutes to realize that Yuuri was pressing a wet paper towel to his forehead. Yuuri must have gotten up at some point, or maybe Viktor was taking longer to respond that he thought- he always seemed to lose track of time when he was sick. He opened his eyes after the dizziness passed, and shivered slightly, “M-my parents, when I got sick at competitions, they were always mad. Force of habit, I guess… I-ugh- c-can I have some more water please.”
Yuuri nodded softly, grabbing his bottle again and unscrewing the cap. He held it against Viktor’s mouth, allowing him to take several small sips before setting it back down on the ground next to him. He folded the paper towel he was holding and pressed it gently against Viktor’s cheeks, then forehead. Yuuri bit his bottom lip. “What happened to your parents Vitya?” He asked softly. The Russian skater very seldom talked about his parents, or his family for that matter. Every now and then, Viktor would tell Yuuri about something that happened in his childhood, or he would catch Viktor discussing his family with Yurio after one of his nightmares about his grandfather, to get him to calm down.
Viktor shook his head gently before laughing quietly, “Nothing. The last I heard they moved to Berlin. My sister was accepted to an academy there, and they couldn’t bear the thought of losing their only child.”
“What do you mean their only child? Viktor, you’re their son… right?” Yuuri winced as the last word left his mouth. He felt tears welling in his eyes, spilling over their tired rims as Viktor looked up, a soft sad smile plastered to his face. Viktor had silent tears glistening against his cheeks again, and Yuuri ran a hand through his hair shakily, dreading the answer.
“My parents were thrilled to have a son who could accomplish so much at such a young age. They loved watching me skate, and pushed me harder than anyone I’ve ever met because they wanted me to achieve greatness. This… this wasn’t always a good thing… being pushed so hard, I mean. I was sick constantly, and my parents dealt with it just as Yurio would, by forcing me to power through it- one of the reasons I still do it today, I guess,” Viktor paused for a second, coughing harshly, “I’m not saying I don’t appreciate them doing that but I’ve ended up in the hospital several times, and lectured by Yakov for skating when I had a high fever, sprain ankle, or something, some major illness or injury that put me out for several days or weeks, even.”
Yuuri wiped some of the tears gathering at Viktor’s chin, and scooted closer. Viktor was watching him intently through half shut eyes. He blinked a few times, trying to make his vision clearer and blink away the exhaustion that was currently coursing through his aching body. He wiped his eyes, and cleared his throat softly, “When I was 16, after the Berlin Nationals, I was giving an interview about my goals for the next season.”
Yuuri nodded, “Yeah, I remember. You passed out on live television. I lived on social media for like four days, just trying to see if you were okay. I remember your mom said it was exhaustion.”
Viktor smiled weakly, “I had a 104 fever that put me out for a good day. I didn’t remember much, except my little sister calling me, asking if I was okay. I remember the doctors were surprised that my parents hadn’t shown up because most parents of an ill 16-year-old wouldn’t leave the hospital. I, honestly, hadn’t been that surprised, just hurt. Instead Yakov had come with me to the hospital, leaving as soon as he knew I was okay, in order to arrange a conference with the press or something-”
“I- why wouldn’t that surprise you? My mom would have slept at the hospital for like a week, despite my protest, just to make sure I was okay.”
“Before the interview,” Viktor paused, taking a deep breath, “I, uh-my parents… like I said… were thrilled to have a son who could accomplish so much but,” Viktor looked down at his feet again, “… they weren’t so thrilled to have a son who liked the same sex.”
“Vik- I,” Yuuri sat there, raking his mind over what Viktor had said. He felt shock and confusion etch across his face as finally understood what Viktor had meant. He felt tears slide down his face as Viktor wiped his own with the sleeve of his shirt. Yuuri’s parents had always been understanding and supportive, even when he came out, they threw a party, inviting everyone in town. At the time, it had been rather embarrassing but he remembered being thankful they had been so supportive. But it had never crossed his mind that Viktor’s parents were not the same as his. He never would have guessed, with how alive and happy Viktor was all the time, that his parents would have disowned him, or kicked him out because of who he loved. Yuuri felt his heart break as he let out a half-choked sob, pulling Viktor into a tight embrace. He sucked in a shaky breath as he felt Viktor slowly hug him back, feeling the Russian burying his head against Yuuri’s neck, crying softly.  

…………………………………………………………………………………….

“God Vitya, when was the last time you were ill?” Yuuri joked softly, tracing the muscles in Viktor’s back. They were back at the hotel now, which deemed to be an adventure in itself. Getting Viktor out of the locker room bathroom, hadn’t been as hard as Yuuri had originally imagined. The car ride back to the hotel however, was a completely different story. The cabbie had to stop twice in the short 20 minutes, just so Viktor didn’t puke on the floor. Not to mention, trying to steer the taller Russian towards their room had been a nightmare. Yuuri was mostly terrified that Viktor was going to pass out in the hotel elevator, and every time one of the guests asked if Viktor was okay, Yuuri panicked a little more. When Yuuri had finally managed to get the door open, keeping his hand firmly on Viktor’s shoulder in case he took a dive towards the floor, he hadn’t been surprised when Viktor made a beeline straight for the bed and collapsed in the middle of it, unmoving.
It had taken several attempts to wrestle Viktor out of his shirt, and convince him that he’d be more comfortable in sweatpants. After that, and promising that they could explore Munich once Viktor felt up to it, he became much more compliant. Yuuri had convinced him to swallow some meds, down half a water bottle, and sleep with one sheet on, instead of six Viktor kept insisting on. Yuuri smirked as he stopped his glasses from falling, and returned to rubbing soft circles in Viktor’s back. Viktor reminded Yuuri of Yurio when he was sick- innocent, childish, uncooperative at times, and slightly dramatic. It was adorable.
Viktor groaned loudly, “I saw your video.”
Yuuri felt confusion etch across his face, “What?”
Viktor let out a loud cough, closing his eyes, “I was home alone- the last time I was sick- when your video was posted online.” He groaned again and shifted in the bed, turning his head to face Yuuri. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking away the blurry image of his fiancé. He felt a gentle hand on his forehead, pushing his bangs away from his face and let out a soft sigh. Yuuri’s hand felt nice against his burning forehead. Yuuri always felt nice.
“You’re so beautiful Yuuri,” he whispered softly letting out a gentle yawn. A soft blush swept across Yuuri’s face as he laughed gently, “That’s the fever talking Vitya.”
Viktor looked up at Yuuri again, a dopey grin plastered to his face. Yuuri ran his hand through Viktor’s sweaty hair again before climbing over him, and resting his head on the pillow next to Viktor. He pushed his glasses further on his nose, a small smirk forming on his face as he watched his fiancé struggle groggily. Viktor moved around for a second, fighting with the sheets that were tangled with his limbs, and scooted closer, resting his head on Yuuri’s chest gently. He sighed loudly, closing his eyes, feeling the world beginning to slip away, “Thank you Yuuri.”
He listened to Yuuri’s heart beating against his chest, feeling his hand gliding against his shoulder blades tenderly. “For what love?” Yuuri asked gently, adjusting the pillow behind his head. He tucked his other arm, the one not currently rubbing Viktor’s back, behind his head, and watched as Viktor tried to open his eyes several times, failing. He snorted softly, shaking his head. At least the meds were kicking in.    
“For being you.” Viktor whispered softly. Yuuri stiffed. He laid there for a few minutes, listening to Viktor’s breathing even out, realizing the Russian had fallen asleep. He felt tears well in his eyes, and looked up at the ceiling. Viktor had gone years without someone truly caring for him, not to mention the number his parents probably did on him when he was a child. He felt his heart shatter again and sucked in a shaky breath, calming himself down. He didn’t want to wake his fiancé.  
Yuuri felt a smile spread across his face. He loved Viktor more than he loved Pork Cutlet bowls, which for him, was saying a lot. He loved Viktor for being his loud, prideful, happy, embarrassing, sometimes obnoxious self- he loved everything there was to, and about Viktor. And somehow, by some unknown godly reason, Viktor loved him too. Not just because he had to or because he was coaching him, but because he truly loved Yuuri for being his weird, panicked, self-destructive, anxiety stricken, food loving self. He loved Yuuri for being himself… no one, besides his parents or sister, had ever loved Yuuri for all that he was. Yuuri closed his eyes gently as Viktor’s words echoed through his mind.
Thank you Yuuri, for being you.

You’ll Thank Me Later

SPN FanFic

~Dean is sick but stubborn, and doesn’t want anyone making a fuss.~

Dean x Castiel, Sam

1,178 Words (I can’t drabble anymore. sigh)

Warnings: Destiel Fluff

~Feedback is the crack that keeps the Writing coming back~

My Masterlist  



Dean could barely move. Every muscle was aching, every swallow burned like fire in this throat. He was cold but sweating, and as he stood up from bed to grab his robe, he nearly fell back over, attacked by a wave of unexpected dizziness.

“Crap,” he muttered and shook his throbbing head to clear his vision.

Slowly, he pulled on his gray robe and stepped into his slippers. He walked passed the mirror without looking, not caring to collect visual proof of his predicament.

It took him longer than usual to navigate the vast Bunker hallways and find the kitchen. Every step he took told him to go back to bed, but he was on a mission. By his watch, he hadn’t eaten in over twelve hours, and that was a travesty. His stomach was growling yet churning, and if he was going to throw up anyway, he’d rather throw up actual food than acid.

With steps that barely lifted off of the floor, he shuffled into the freezing kitchen and set himself up in front of the toaster, practically clinging to the countertop for stability.

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anonymous asked:

Can I see a very sick and feverish Viktor being doted on by Yuuri? I'd also like at some point for Viktor's solution to the problem of how hot he is to be removing his clothrs

no idea what this is. but in my defense you did ask for naked Viktor, so?? *holds up hands* 

We’re lying on the couch, tangled up with each other and the blankets. It’s sort of become home-base over the last forty-eight hours.

Some show I’ve never heard of is playing in English but I’m not really paying attention. A disgruntled, middle-aged father, his spacey wife, and a couple of rugrats. It’s just background noise, a bit of distraction.

Viktor’s head is resting in my lap and he’s got one arm tucked around my leg. It’s warm and comfortable and wouldn’t be unusual except for the fact that Viktor is running a fever and it’s kicking his ass. He’s been nauseous and achy and miserable for almost two days, now.

I’m beginning to feel the strain. We were up most of last night, camped out on the bathroom floor; Viktor hugging the toilet and me hugging Viktor while he tried his hardest to puke up his stomach lining. He hardly ever gets sick, so when he does everything hits him all at once, like a goddamn freight-train barreling down the tracks at full speed and smashing headlong into a stalled car.

Around seven this morning, Viktor fell asleep against the toilet seat and I decided it was safe to relocate; somewhere a little more - erm - sanitary, (and comfortable - my ass was killing me by that point).

I forced him to drink a little water but I let him pick the movie. Or tried to. He switched absently between channels for a while before complaining about his eyes hurting and, “Yuuri, can you do it, please?”

I was hoping he’d fallen asleep, but he’s started squirming again and from the desperate, spasmodic grip on my thigh and the strained, breathy moans, I know it won’t be long before he needs the bucket. I’ve given up trying to haul him into the bathroom. Ease and efficiency have become my priorities during this sleep-deprived stretch.

I huff out a sympathetic sigh and pet his hair, trying to calm him down. He nuzzles his face into my leg, panting through his nose and swallowing thickly with each exhale.

Shh, you’re all right,” I soothe once the keening starts up again. Viktor stays very still, just breathing those wet, shallow breaths; throat humming with those pitiful, desperate noises, eyes clenched shut and every muscle coiled tight in defense.

“Can you sit up?” I ask him. He gives a tiny shake of his head and swallows down a gurgle that turns into a burp. “Viktor?”

He hiccups; deep and wet and bringing with it a mouthful of whatever’s left in his stomach. He lets go of my leg, finally pushes up on his elbows and gestures frantically for the bucket. I position the container beneath his chin and begin rubbing circles against his back. I’ve done this so many times it’s become routine.

Viktor groans and burps; out loud this time as his shoulders roll forward with a deep gag. I watch as he fights the urge for a moment; he always does. And then a choked noise rumbles in his throat. His cheeks inflate with another belch and a breathless gasp, “Yuuri…”

“I’ve got you,” I reassure. I don’t sound very steady. “I’m here.”

Viktor shudders violently, his upper body rocking forward as he begins to retch. I hear something splash into the bottom of the bucket and close my eyes. He trembles beneath my hands, emptying out his stomach. I feel my chest constrict and my breath hitches in my throat, just like it has every time Viktor’s thrown up. Don’t panic, I remind myself. This will pass. Do not panic. He needs you. Don’t…

And I don’t. I breathe in, breathe out, massage slow circles against his back and wait for the episode to subside. Eventually, Viktor coughs, panting as his limbs quiver, trying to recover from the exertion. He swears under his breath and falls limp against the cushions. I reach for a tissue to wipe his mouth. He’s sweating; damp hair plastered to his forehead and moisture beading over every inch of skin.

His hands travel down to his sweats, tugging clumsily at the loose fabric. With a frustrated moan, he manages to pull them down around his thighs before I can stop him.

“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to ease the pants back up over his bare hips. He lets out a soft moan when my hand brushes over the dip curving just below his abdomen.

Mm…so hot,” he slurs, licking the sweat from his upper lip and clicking his tongue. “Need ‘em off. ’S too hot.”

I abandon the pants and immediately reach up to feel his forehead; he’s burning, worse than before.

“Viktor, you really should try some more medicine. Your fever’s up.”

I can feel a fresh surge of panic threatening to choke me, making it difficult to draw a breath. He’s just so sick and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing…I don’t think I’m helping at all.

Mmmnn,” Viktor groans, tugging at his t-shirt. “Yuuri, help me,” his voice wobbles, sounding very young. “I can’t g-get it off. I can’t…can’t breathe.”

I give up and help him pull his arms out of the damp shirt. He kicks off the sweatpants and now I have a very feverish, very naked boyfriend clinging to me like the last life-vest aboard the sinking Titanic.

I gulp and place a hand against the small of his back while Viktor buries his face in my lap. His skin is warm and slick with sweat, legs intertwining with mine, trapping me against him.

“You’re so good to me, moya lyubov,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose between my thighs. A buzzy warmth pools in the pit of my stomach and I can’t help it when my fingers stray a little further down, stroking lazily over the smooth arc of his ass. He purrs in appreciation and giggles drunkenly into my shirt. But the moment is obliterated when he starts coughing; thick and congested and painful, bringing up mouthfuls of phlegm that make him gag until he leans over to spit into the bucket.

“Yuuri,” he whimpers, fingers clenching in the fabric of my shirt. “I don’ feel good. ‘M tired of…being like this -” and breaks off into another fit of coughing.

I run my fingers gently through his hair, brushing back the damp bangs and placing a kiss on the top of his head.

“I know you are, love. I’m so sorry.”

I watch his throat bob up and down a few times and prepare to reach for the bucket. He releases a shaky, exhausted sigh and shivers - the involuntary action travels down from his shoulders to the rest of his body like an electric current.

“Viktor?” I keep running my hand through his hair and peer down, trying to catch his eyes. He blinks up at me, tearful and dazed beneath wet lashes. Another shiver crawls down the length of his spine. “Do you want to get back under the covers?”

He sniffs, nods, and snuggles closer as I pull the blankets over the both of us. He wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head just below my chest. I feel my heartbeat accelerate in spite of myself and wonder if he’s listening. He shivers some more and burrows impossibly close.

“I never thought I’d be saying this,” I whisper into his hair. He mumbles a sleepy, “Hmm?” and I feel a smile tugging at my lips.

“You should’ve left your clothes on, Vitya.”

anonymous asked:

Yurri becoming sick on a plane ride to Russia, because victor is so busy he doesn't notice until yurri falls asleep against him and is burning up

Decided I wasn’t tackling the prompts out of order because I’ve just been in a big YOI mood. My favorite is JJ but I have a weakness for a little katsudon.


They had seventeen hours to go. There aren’t normally hold-ups at the Narita International Airport, but today the two figure skaters had received the short end of the stick with the plane air system problems. Yuuri sticks to Victor’s side, tugging his beanie down further onto his head as they wait to board. He’s cold, despite the warm spring temperatures, and the only warning Victor tells him is “Russia will probably be worse”.

But Victor’s been busy focusing on the latest routine, on the jump patterns, on making sure their arrangements are set for them to go back. He’d had to call to reinstate the utilities to his old apartment, and another one to Yakov to ask if he’d be so kind as to make sure everything was okay for them. Two months of winter training in Russia before Four Continents… Yuuri is not excited.

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