“Perhaps I am being too forward, I don’t know what your expectations are, the books I have read about Japan did not discuss such things, but, ah… you surely must know that I would very much like to kiss you.”
He hadn’t expected Victor to say something like that so soon, but it was the simplicity of the request that startled and charmed Yuuri all at once. Not a desire for them to go to bed together, or to become regular lovers; only a kiss. And he seemed so concerned that even that could offend Yuuri. It might have, if this were his first time among Westerners. But it was only a kiss. Yuuri had kissed plenty of men.
He didn’t respond, only reached up to take his glasses off, and then slid his fingers up from where they still rested against Victor’s shoulder to the back of his neck before he leaned across the distance between them and pressed their lips together.
I’m currently rereading @thetwoguineabook‘s Blackbird and AHHHHH I love this fic SO MUCH I wish I could draw every single scene in it *sobs*
This scene in Ch 2 is probably one of my favourite scenes in the entire fic. The way Victor tells Yuuri that he wants to kiss him - it gets me every time
“Look, Reiner, one more thing. When you fire, you need to breathe. Try this… take a big breath in and out.”
Reiner, frowning, opened his mouth and inhaled, then exhaled loudly.
He can hear Bertolt’s smile, “Ok, that’s good, but let’s do it softer, and focus on taking that breath in, and then breathing it out nice and slow. And when you’re done breathing out…. that’s when you shoot.”
“Huh, I never thought of that,” Reiner mumbled.
“Let’s go, big breath in…”
He inhaled through his nose. He could smell the loamy earth they’re laying on, the wet grass, the fresh breeze coming in with the dawn. The tin cans are more visible, their dark outlines stark and defiant against the sky, significantly brighter now than when they started. Light yellow and pink streak across above their heads. He can feel a cold drop of sweat run down his chest under his shirt. And again, Bertolt’s hand rested on his back between the shoulder blades, warm and strong. Right now, he felt grounded, alive. Somehow, Reiner knew he would never forget this moment.
He exhaled, lined up his sights. The hard wood of the rifle pressed against his cheek, the butt in the crook of his shoulder. Finger ready on the trigger, the metal grip of it cool and rough against his index. At the end of his breath, he held, and with gentle pressure squeezed-