impressive reflexes, lapochka

this is a commission for @idiotbless. she asked me for 1000 words of cute fluff about victor with a cold and yuuri taking care of him while also kinda liking it. @idiotbless thank you so much for commissioning me! i really hope you like it!

as always, i am open for commissions.


It’s three o’clock in the morning, and Victor is trying desperately not to sneeze.

Usually, he would just go ahead and do it, but judging by the inflated condition of his sinuses, the little gaspy breaths he keeps taking in preparation, and the itchy, drippy mess that is his nose, he knows he’s going to sneeze loudly, and more than once. Which, while laying in bed next to his very tired fiance at three o’clock in the morning, is not a great idea. 

The day before, they’d practiced literally all day, and they’d both crashed into bed the minute they got home. They are both exhausted.

It’s worse, though, for Victor. The cold he thought he was coming down with all of yesterday has fully settled in. With their next practice session—this one led by the very strict Lilia—looming in the next three hours, this is a very bad thing.

The itching gives over to burning, and Victor pinches his nose closed. He stifles six squished sneezes into his hand—“kch! ksh! hkkch! hch! kkch! ksh!” and hopes to all things holy that Yuuri didn’t hear. 

Stifling makes his clogged sinuses throb, makes him whimper just a little. Before he can prepare himself to stifle another oncoming sneeze, he pitches forward in a messy, explosive “HEH’KSHIEW!”

He opens his eyes to find his nose buried in a tissue, which Yuuri, now awake and sitting up, is holding. 

“…wow,” says Victor, voice muffled by both the tissue and his stuffy nose. “Ibpressive reflexes, lapochka.”

“I guess,” says Yuuri, blushing. “Are you alright? You sound terrible. All raspy and stuffed up.”

“Ehh…I thidk I bight be cobidg down with sobething,” says Victor, gently prying the tissue from Yuuri’s hands. Yuuri plucks another one from the box on their bedside table, and hands it over. Victor blows his nose, laughing nervously at the ugly squelching sound this produces. 

“Oh, no, that’s no good. What kind of something? Do you think it’s serious?” Yuuri puts his glasses on, and turns on the light. Victor squints, shades his eyes to stop the light from making his headache worse. Yuuri turns it off right away. 

“Sorry,” he says.

“It’s okay—hhAHHCHH! ehhKCHH! Oh my…” Victor sniffles into his now sodden handful of tissues, and flashes Yuuri a hesitant smile. 

“I thidk it’s just a cold,” he says. “Right dow I’b mostly  feeling it id by nose. I’b a bit tired and headachey too, but I’b dot dyidg or adythidg. Snff.”

“That’s good,” says Yuuri, flashing him a sleepy smile. Said smile transforms immediately into a frown, and Yuuri starts worriedly exclaiming over how he didn’t mean to say it was good that Victor was sick, he’d meant that it was good that he wasn’t dying.

“Well…it’s alright if you edjoy it,” says Victor, tracing a finger down Yuuri’s bare arm. “Like I said, it’s just a little cold. Snff.”

Yuuri’s cheeks light up a brilliant red, and he buries his face in his hands. But before Victor can respond to his embarrassment, Yuuri’s mood changes dramatically. He slaps his hand down on the bed with determination, and says, “if you’re sick, I guess I just have to take care of you.”

“You dod’t have to,” says Victor with a smirk.

“I know, but I want to! I’ve been wanting to for a while, actually…n-not that I wanted anything to happen to you that required it, but um, you know what I mean?” Yuuri scratches the back of his neck. 

“Yes, kotyonok, I—HHUHH-kkch!” Victor blows his nose into a tissue that Yuuri passes to him. “I know you like when I do that, too,” he says, hiding the smile that’s stretching across his face. 

“I…!” Yuuri shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath in. “Y-yes. Yes, I do. So, um, don’t hold back or anything. Um. What do you need right now? What would make you feel better?” 

“Just a bidute.” Victor’s nose has suddenly begun running profusely, forcing him to use up four tissues blowing it. Yuuri grabs the trash can from is home under Victor’s desk. Victor thanks him and tosses the tissues. 

“I can’t believe your garbage can has Makkachin all over it…” Yuuri says. “I don’t know if it’s overkill or adorable.”

“Adorable, of course! Everything Bakkachid is adorable—hhAHH-ksh! EHH-shhuh!”


Yuuri responds to this particular explosion by wrapping his arms around Victor’s shoulders, and nuzzling his neck. “You didn’t answer my question,” he says. “What would make you feel better?”

“Hodestly? I’d be happy just goid back to sleep.” Victor sniffles, wipes his nose with yet another tissue. “It’s albost 3:30 id the bordidg…want to snuggle for a little bit add then pass out?”

“Okay…if you’re sure you don’t need anything else first? I could make you some tea? Or maybe get you another blanket? You need to stay warm if you’re sick…” 

“I already feel quite warm,” says Victor. Yuuri presses a hand to Victor’s neck, and declares that he only feels that way because he has a fever, and therefore he could probably use another blanket. 

“Body heat will accomplish the sabe thidg,” says Victor, laying back down and reaching his arms out to Yuuri. “Come here, moya lyubov, lay down with be.”

After taking off his glasses again, Yuuri does. He kisses Victor’s cheek, and tells him to let him know if he feels worse or needs anything. “Even if I’m asleep, you can wake me up,” he says. 

Victor is about to respond, but he’s interrupted by an itch zigzagging through his sinuses. His nose twitches, and he sneezes, twice, into a tissue that Yuuri has pressed to his face. 

“I’b dot sure if you’re trying to help or if you just like feeling me sdeezing od your skin,” says Victor. 

“I’m trying to help!” says Yuuri. “Just…also maybe the other thing. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. It’s just one of bady thidgs I love about you. Snff. You know I love you, right lapochka?” 

“Yes,” says Yuuri, wrapping his legs around Victor’s. “I know. I love you too, Vitya.”

katsudoff  asked:

"love is a word used too much and much too soon" (from Ch. Bukowski's "a definition") for a victuuri drabble please

For all that Viktor is the more outwardly affectionate one between the two of them, it is not him who first says “I love you” to the other.

If one were to include confessions of the body- those affectionate gestures and his unwavering support-  as “I love you’s”, then perhaps Viktor is the first of them to say anything. But the words never fall from his lips the way they do that first time: when the full moon is high, the stars are bright, and moonlight trickles through Viktor’s translucent curtains while Yuuri looks down at him like he’s the most beautiful thing on Earth.

“I love you,” he says, a flush of pink on his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he gently runs cool fingers through Viktor’s silver locks. “I never said it before, but. I thought you should know.”

Viktor can only gawp at him, sleepy eyes growing wide in shock as he stares up at Yuuri from his place on the bed, with his arms wrapped around Yuuri’s waist. “Yuuri,” he says, choked up and surprised, “I-”

“You don’t have to say it back,” Yuuri insists immediately, hand firm on the top of Viktor’s head as he leans back into the headboard of their shared bed. “You don’t have to say it at all.”

“Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri,” Viktor says, like a mantra of love that Yuuri doesn’t even need his “I love you” to confirm anything. He raises himself with both arms so that he’s sitting beside Yuuri, hands reaching up to cup Yuuri’s cheeks and touching him reverently as one would an idol of worship. “Oh, lyubov moya, but I must. I just,” he pauses, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, “I didn’t think you would be the first to say it. You caught me by surprise.”

“Good,” he says, smiling when Viktor blinks at him in question. “You love surprises, don’t you? And I love being that, for you.”

A sound almost like a held-back sob escapes Viktor’s mouth, yet the smile on his face widens into something sun-bright and soft and beautiful. “You are, all on your own, the best surprise the world has given to me,” he says, pressing their foreheads together in a gentle imitation of the first time Yuuri had done it during a competition. “You wouldn’t have to lift a finger and I would still adore you the most out of anything else on this Earth.”

“Those are some confident words,” Yuuri teases, reaching up to squeeze his hands around Viktor’s own over his cheeks.

“And I’m confident in my love for you, so it balances itself out,” Viktor says, smile wide and unshakeable on his face as he raises his head to press a kiss onto Yuuri’s forehead. “Lapochka, you are everything to me.” He laughs, the sound watery and high in Yuuri’s ears as he leans down to press a chaste and sweet kiss to his lips. “Sometimes, I still doubt how much I deserve you- but I will never, ever stop in doing my best to be worthy of your love.”

“I could say the same for you,” Yuuri retorts, tears already brimming and flowing down his cheeks as he smiles a fond smile back at Viktor. “I never want to stop being the one who deserves your love.”

“Ah,” Viktor sighs, chest heaving with that one breath as he leans further down to hide his face in the crook of Yuuri’s neck and shoulder. “Ah, how could I have not said it before? It feels so impossible, when everything you do only reminds me of how much I love you.”

Yuuri grins, barely holding back a giggle of sheer joy at hearing those words being uttered by that same mouth he has kissed over and over, and will continue to kiss until they are old and grey and wrinkled. “Right?” he says, laughter lacing his voice. “I feel the same. I’ve loved you for so long, it feels so strange to realize that I’ve only said it now.”

“Before,” Viktor begins, and Yuuri quiets when he recognizes it as the tone Viktor uses whenever he’s telling a story, “when I didn’t know you yet, I had thought that my past lovers were, perhaps, too loose with their tongues in telling me that they loved me. I didn’t understand how they could be so certain when they barely knew the whole of me. My parents, on the other hand,” he pauses to sigh, sliding his arms around Yuuri’s waist and squeezing once he has Yuuri in his embrace, “they did not say it often, if they said it at all. So I wondered- maybe they’re words I should not utter at all, if I wanted to keep what I loved.”

If I spoke of my love, I was scared that the world would take what I loved away from me.

Yuuri barely managed to stifle a shudder at that thought, understanding what Viktor meant far too well. His confidence in speaking aloud his love for Viktor before, in interviews and the like, was mostly brought about by the quiet fear that Viktor would soon leave.

He had thought, then, that he could at least offer this one thing before Viktor would eventually, inevitably, go.

But Viktor did not leave.

Viktor doesn’t want to leave.

“But I’m yours to keep,” Yuuri says, heart beating aloud a song of love as he wraps his own arms around Viktor’s back in a warm embrace. “And I will stay, for as long as you want me.”

“Forever,” Viktor says, the question quiet but there in his voice as he pulls back- but not completely, still nestled comfortably in the cocoon of Yuuri’s arms.

Yuuri smiles, teary-eyed with cheeks flush in happiness. “Forever,” he repeats in confirmation, laughing softly when Viktor immediately smiles (and oh, the sun could try and still fail to be as bright) and tugs him into another warm, loving embrace.

“I love you,” Yuuri says, and quietly, he thinks, my heart has been yours for as long as I’ve known you.

“I love you too, solnishko,” Viktor says, squeezing his arms around Yuuri in a firm embrace, and Yuuri hears, unspoken but there:

I’m yours, always.

And he smiles, because it’s only fair, isn’t it? After all,

he has always been, and will ever be, Viktor’s.

Feeling Unwell

So this is a somewhat follow-up to Semi-conscious Sonder where Yuuri comes down with a cold. (Can also be read as a stand-alone.) Takes place in St. Petersburg post-canon.

~2000 words

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

i can see yuuri finally coming to in the medic area bandaged up and smothered in cold rags, and viktor's just looming over with that pinched expression feeling the heat radiating from him. but yuuri is still so out of it and thinks viktor is embarrassed by his skate that the tears come up again and apologies slur from his mouth and viktor's just thumbing them away while also crying and telling yuuri he was so worried and not to lie to him again and 'just rest lapochka you're not well' hooooo

dam son. tfw your followers write your plot for you.
This is super cute. Idk if I’ll follow something like this exactly but… there will be tears..

A Bitter Taste, A Sweet Love

A Yuri on Ice sickfic inspired by an absolutely joyful conversation I had with @the-whump-sidelines about fevers where I realized I don’t see much of stubborn sickies being force-fed medicine. Obviously something had to be done about that.

1000~ words

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

feverish yuuri with combo tears is my Ultimate Jam. like imagine the poor bab curled in and shivering on viktor with his hot forehead pressed to his shoulder. and little hitched sobs and whimpers and hoarse whines. and viktor's just holding his little furnace and murmuring to him but is so worried for his bby. and maybe a 'yuuri, lapochka, please settle.. you're aggravating your symptoms.' but yuuri is just so sick and miserable. like shit. that's the Stuff.

hold that thought, friend

ononomoon  asked:


you get: untitled college re-union fic!

In 2021 Yuuri’s 5 year college reunion coincides with Detroit Skating Club’s annual Alumni fundraiser. 

“I don’t know if we should go,” Yuuri says, fumbling with the invitation, creasing it at the corners, as though wrinkling it will somehow cause time to fold in on itself and make the whole situation disappear. “I didn’t really have any friends on campus other than Phichit.”

Victor slides up behind him, plucks the invasion from Yuuri’s hand and wraps his arms around his waist. “I think it would be good for you, lapochka. Besides,” Victor smirks against the side of Yuuri’s neck, “you can show off your trophy husband.” 

“You mean my husband with a lot of trophies?” 

“You know what I mean.” Victor kisses the spot behind his ear that makes Yuuri shiver. “Besides, I’d like to see what your life was like. Before.” 

And really, that’s the truth. There’s a stark separation of Yuuri’s world into thirds: before Victor Nikforov, before just Victor, and after Victor-his-husband. 

Yuuri thinks that’s the end of it. They’ll go, he’ll mingle for an hour with people who have to squint as they pretend to remember him, and then he’ll head back to the hotel with Victor, back to a life that simultaneously feels more real and more dream-like than any of the years that came before it.

(That’s not how it happens.)

anonymous asked:

Victor/fetish!Yuuri - Victor knows Yuuri's had a rough day. It seems like everything's going wrong for him, and by the time he gets home, he's cranky and withdrawn. Cue an indulging Victor and a bottle of cologne to make Yuuri feel better. ;)

“Yuuuuuuuuri hey,” says Victor, sitting down next to Yuuri, who has been lying on the couch playing Neko Atsume for the past thirty minutes while tears stream silently down his face. “So, listen, I know today has been rough for you, but I think I know something that will make you feel better. Want to guess what it is?”

Yuuri does not want to guess what it is. After attempting to persuade him for another ten seconds or so, Victor removes a bottle of Lavender-Rose scented cologne. 

“Vitya, put that away,” says Yuuri, sitting up. “I thought we threw that out because it set off your allergies so badly.” 

“Why would I throw away such a valuable treasure?” says Victor. Before Yuuri can answer, he sprays the perfume in front of his own face, and breathes in. At first, his breaths are calm and even, but within seconds he is hitching wildly, his chest heaving, his eyes slamming shut. 

He’s about to bring his elbow to his face to catch the oncoming sneezes, but Yuuri wraps his arms around him and starts kissing him on the cheek before he can. 

“EHHKK-ISHIEW! Ahh…hhhkCHHIEW! HHH-kkch!” 

The sneezes mist Yuuri’s hair. Victor smiles, scrubs his furiously itchy nose with his hands and says, “does that make you feel a little better, lapochka?” 

“Yes,” breathes Yuuri, tightly clutching the back of Victor’s head. “Yes. I just hope you don’t end up regretting it when you’re still sneezing thirty minutes later.” 

“I wouldn’t regret anything that made you happ…happy…hap…?HAPSHHHIEW!” 

Say it Ain’t So

Day 4 prompt: The doctor comes out with his little clip board, and what he has to say changes your character’s life. What does he say, and how do your characters react?

Victor crept into his and Yuuri’s bedroom.  Yuuri was fast asleep, buried underneath a pile of blankets - just how he liked it.  

“Yuuri what would you like for breakfast?” Victor asked, shaking his husband awake.
“Nice wake up call.” Yuuri griped, rolling on his side. He pulled the blanket over his head, and Victor immediately yanked it back.
“Ah ah ah. There’s no room for grumpy Yuuri, this morning. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping and you’re just so cute, lapochka.” Victor cooed, throwing himself on Yuuri. He nuzzled his cheek into Yuuri’s and hugged him tightly.
Yuuri groaned. “Get off, you’re squishing me.”

Victor straightened up, patted Yuuri’s cheek, and told him to get up and to meet him in the kitchen. They had a long day of training, and Victor knew if he didn’t get Yuuri up early for some breakfast, he would skip breakfast entirely. Victor couldn’t have Yuuri passing out on him.

Yuuri forced himself to get up, wishing desperately to crawl back into his nice warm bed. Five thirty was too early to be awake.

He poured himself into one of the chairs, and Victor placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him.

Yuuri’s stomach grumbled. “This looks amazing. Thank you, Vitya.”
“Only the best for my Yuuri.” Victor chirped, entirely too cheerful for someone awake at this ungodly hour. “Eat up, lyuobov moya. We’ll leave as soon as you’re finished.”

Victor was a great cook, and Yuuri had no problem eating all of the food on his plate.  Victor watched, a huge grin on his face.

“V-Victor, stop.” Yuuri whined, his cheeks flushing.  “You know I hate when you watch me eat.”  

After Yuuri had brushed his teeth and got dressed, they headed out to the rink. Victor opted to just drive them, because Yuuri was already sleepy, and he had a long day ahead of him.  


Everything was going fine - scratch that, everything was going wonderfully,. Perfect, even. Yuuri was nailing every one of his routines, and Victor couldn’t be happier.  His chest swelled with pride as he watched his husband skate.

And then, disaster struck.

Neither of them were entirely sure what happened. One minute, Yuuri was in the air, and the next, he was crying out in pain, clutching his knee as he rolled around in pain.  

Everything felt like it was in slow motion; Victor couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move. All he could do was stand, rooted in his spot as he listened to Yuuri’s cries of pain.

And then, he propelled himself onto the ice and nearly face planted as he hurried to reach Yuuri.  

“Yuuri! Yuuri, what happened? Talk to me.  What hurts? What happened? What hurts.  Please tell me.” Victor pleaded, the words tumbling out of his mouth.

Yuuri gasped in pain, his vision blurring.  

“H-hurts.” Was all Yuuri was able to get out.

Panic bubbled in Victor’s chest. “Let me see, lyubov moya. Let me see your knee. Can you move your hands?”

“V-vitya.” Yuuri choked out, moving his hands.
Victor kept his face neutral.  “Okay, let’s get you off the ice and onto a bench, yeah? Can you walk?”

He made sure to keep any panic off of his face and out of his voice when he was speaking, but he was worried about how much pain Yuuri was in.  

Yuuri shook his head, biting down hard on his lip.  Tears sprang to his eyes, and Victor helped him stand up. He kept one hand on the younger man’s shoulder, and one hand on his hip to keep him steadied as Yuuri tested out the extent of his injury. He was unable to put weight on his injured leg - not only did it hurt like all hell, but his knee felt weak and unstable.  

“I c-can’t…I can’t walk…Victor, it hurts.” Yuuri cried.
“Do you need me to carry you?” He asked softly.  
“It hurts.” Yuuri moaned.  
Victor took that as his cue to scoop him up and carry him off the ice.

“P-please…I n-need the hospital.  It hurts, it hurts so bad.” Yuuri sobbed into Victor’s shirt.  

That was when Victor knew it was bad.  Yuuri hated hospitals and avoided them like the plague.  

“You want…yes.  Absolutely, lapochka.” Victor said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.  


Yuuri was sitting in a hospital bed.  He had been given pain medication, and had already had an MRI and x-ray.  His knee was propped up on a few pillows with an ice pack sitting on top.  

They were just waiting for the results to come in.

“I’m sorry, Vitya.” Yuuri sighed sadly, his eyes filling with tears.  
Victor’s eyebrows furrowed together. “What are you sorry for? You’re not apologizing for getting hurt, are you?” Yuuri nodded. “Oh, Yuuri.  My sweet, beautiful Yuuri. Why are you sorry? You didn’t mean to get hurt.  It’s okay, it happens to the best of us.”
“I should have sucked it up and kept skating.”
“Absolutely not!” Victor cried, appalled.

The door opened, and in walked Yuuri’s doctor, carrying her clipboard.  

“How are you feeling, Mister Katsuki?”
“Better.  It doesn’t hurt any more. So am I okay to go?”
“Not yet, I’m afraid.” She said, shaking her head.
“What did the MRI show?”
“You’ve torn your ACL almost completely.”
“What does that mean?” Yuuri frowned.
She sighed.  “It’s going to require surgery. You’ll need a complete reconstruction”
Yuuri’s heart dropped.  “Will I be able to skate again?”
“The tear is significant.” She started, and Victor could feel his heart shattering.  He had a feeling he knew the answer, but he hoped he was wrong. “The problem is that your knee will always be weak. It will be repaired to the absolute best of our ability, but…it won’t take very much for you to reinjure it.  I’m so sorry, but…I would recommend that you retire. I’ll give you two a few minutes to process this, but then we need to discuss your surgery.”

Neither of them spoke.  

Neither of them knew what to say.  Yuuri tried to form words, but he just couldn’t, and he sat there opening and closing his mouth. 

There was a crushing weight on his chest.  This couldn’t be happening, skating was his life. It was all he knew.  

If he couldn’t skate, what would he do?

“Victor.” Yuuri whispered, grasping at his hand.
Victor forced a smile on his face.  “It will be okay, Yuuri.”
“I can’t skate!” He sobbed, eyes filling with tears.  “What am I going to do?”
Victor took a moment, trying to organize all the thoughts that were swirling in his head. “Right now…right now you have the surgery…we focus on your recovery, and then…and then we’ll figure it out.” He said quietly, his eyes wet with tears.
Yuuri nodded. “Yeah…yeah, okay.”

Victor leaned forward and kissed Yuuri’s cheek.  “Don’t worry, lyubov moya. We’ll figure this out together. Let’s just get you better, yeah?”
“I’m scared, Vitya.”
“I know.  You have every right to be, but I’ll be here every step of the way.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”

anonymous asked:

For the alphabet thing: D and F for sick Victor/victuuri? xx

Walking off the ice in his skates, Victor trips over his own feet. Yuuri, who has walked off ahead of him, lunges forward to catch him. Victor’s arms end up knotted around Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri tries to get him upright, but Victor isn’t cooperating. He just stares up at Yuuri, leaning closer and closer to the ground until he’s practically on his knees. Yuuri guides him so that he doesn’t fall or end up sitting on the ice. 

“Victor, what is going on?” Yuuri asks, crouching over him, leaning forward on his skates. “Are you okay?” 

“Mmm…y-yeah. I’m good,” slurs Victor, looking up at Yuuri with half-lidded, fever-bright eyes. “Just dizzy…hey, is it just me or is it really hot out today? This place isn’t temperature controlled…what if it..melts…”

Yuuri claps a hand to VIctor’s forehead, wincing at the sweat that’s collected there. “Vitya, you’re burning up,” he says. “Put your arm around my shoulder, okay? I’m going to help you into bed.”

“Ohhh, y-you’re…you’re a naughty boy, lapochka,” says Victor, throwing his head back and laughing, his eyes completely closed. 

anonymous asked:

"He had the Death in his eyes, cold mistress. Stinging, as pins pressed under his skin; his face wet with tears. In that moment he knew. The love of his life. He wasn't going to make it alive..."

Yuuri chews on the sofa pillow, trying hard not to tear up. Next to him, Yuri simply watches him with disgusted fascination, before grabbing for another pillow and aiming it at Viktor’s head. “Oi, are you crazy? Why would you read that to him?”

“It’s a classic,” Viktor scoffs, offended. “And you were the one that asked for a bedtime story!”

“Well, you’re making the pig cry!”

Viktor gasps, scrambling across the room to reach Yuuri. He doesn’t even bother walking around the coffe table. Instead, he uses it as a stepping stone, practically jumping over to the sofa and sending Yuri scrambling to seek safety by one of the arms. “Yuuri! Lapochka!” he cries, shocked. His hands cup Yuuri’s face, pushing away thick teas with his thumbs, “What’’s wrong?”

“I just,” Yuuri hiccuped, “it’s stupid. I’m fine. I just really got into the story. S’all. I’m fine. Viktor, it’s okay. Continue.”

“Maybe we should move on from story time to–”

Yuri throws another pillow at the back of Viktor’s head. Viktor takes it, heart-shaped smile large as he says, ‘”Excellent idea, Yuri! Let’s move to the pillow fight part of this sleepover!” 

i definitely didn’t just spend like 20 minutes reading about russian pet names just for the purpose of thinking about victor getting all sappy and using cute doting russian nicknames with yuuri because lets be real he’d totally do that he’d totally cuddle up with yuuri at the end of a long day of practice and stroke his hair and call him “solnishka moya” and “lapochka” while they drift off to sleep. wHELP I’M FUCKED