vomitting ice

dontfeelsogood  asked:

Can I request Viktor with a stomach bug? (Viktuuri) thank you!! 💕💕💕

thank you so much for sending these asks in, i’m glad that i finally got around to filling them!!!  sorry it took so long, i hope it was worth the wait!!!

WARNING: descriptions of vomit below

read the warning

read the warning

read the warning

okay, you’ve been warned

Despite having been entirely unproductive even after retching for the past half hour, Viktor’s head was still in the toilet when he heard Yuuri’s knock on the bathroom door.


An overwhelming nausea forced the older man into yet another dry heave before he was able to respond.  “Ah,” Viktor swallowed thickly, putting everything he had into resisting the sick feeling in his gut.  Unfortunately, nothing he did seemed to have any impact, so he reluctantly cleared his throat and continued speaking.  “Sorry, Yuuri, do you need the restroom?  I’ll be - huuurk! - out in just a minute!”

With that, Viktor’s stomach lurched and back into the porcelain bowl went his head.  He wasn’t sure how he would manage to vacate the bathroom in this state, but if Yuuri needed him to, he would figure something out.  As he coughed and wiped spit from his lips, he could hear Yuuri moving around just outside the door.

“I can hear you heaving all the way from the bedroom,” Yuuri said quietly.  Viktor’s heart ached.

“Oh,” Viktor whispered, a wet cough interrupting him briefly, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”  Yuuri sounded confused, which was adorable; Viktor could picture him, leaning against the bathroom door with his face scrunched in the most endearing way.  The thought alone was enough to leave Viktor yearning for the younger man to be by his side, but he couldn’t possibly ask that of him.

“Why are you sorry?”  Yuuri murmured, almost as if to himself.

“I didn’t want to - urk! - bother you,” Viktor explained, feeling guilty because a large part of him wanted the exact opposite.  “Did I wake you up?”

“I couldn’t sleep anyway,” Yuuri murmured.  Viktor imagined him running a hand through his hair, sweaty from tossing and turning.  The sound of Yuuri’s shaky sigh was loud enough to reach Viktor’s ears through the closed door.  “Viktor, can you let me in?  You sound miserable.”

“I’m - urp! - okay,” Viktor tried to argue, though he didn’t sound very convincing even to himself, with a belch puncturing his argument.  Not to mention his energy level had hit rock bottom, so every word he spoke came out dry and monotone.

“Vitya.  Don’t lie to me,” Yuuri’s voice hardened.

“I-“  Viktor wanted to tell Yuuri.  He really, truly did.  Unfortunately, his mouth didn’t seem to agree, and if he listened closely enough to it, he could tell that something in his heart resisted as well.  He let out a long belch-turned-retch before speaking again in a hollow tone.  “I’ll be fine.  Go back to bed, Yuuri.”

When Viktor heard Yuuri’s footsteps walking away, he knew he had no right to feel upset or disappointed or lonely; Yuuri was only doing as Viktor had instructed.  And yet, regret coursed through him as he continued to heave fruitlessly into the toilet.  He wanted Yuuri to stay.  Stay close to me, he thought.  It had been a mantra in his head since the moment he’d met the younger skater, and yet he’d gone and pushed him away.








The words spun around in Viktor’s dizzy head.  His stomach contents continued to slosh uneasily inside of him, but Viktor had all but given up on getting anything out, so he laid his head on the toilet seat and focusing on quelling the nausea.

He must have dozed off, because he woke with a start.


Yuuri was at the door again.  Viktor had no idea how much time had passed, but apparently not enough for the bug to pass.  The nausea was, incredibly, worse than ever, and he couldn’t repress a harsh heave.

“Viktor, I’m sorry to do this but I’m coming in.”

The door was locked, Viktor had made sure of that when he’d first started feeling ill.  Amazingly, that didn’t seem to phase Yuuri at all.  He entered the bathroom moments later with tea - and a paperclip.

“Did you - huuuurgh! - just pick - hiccurrup!”  Viktor coughed violently, forgetting to finish his sentence in favor of focusing on his struggle to breathe.

“Picked the lock,” Yuuri murmured, but he was clearly distracted, staring at the sick man.  Viktor flinched.

“Yuuri, don’t - huuuurp! - look.”  His throat was tight.  Yuuri ignored this demand and brushed a hand through Viktor’s sweaty hair, shooting him a fierce look.

“No one’s judging you right now, Vitya, not when you’re sick,” Yuuri said firmly, raising an eyebrow as if daring Viktor to object.  “Now.  Let me help you.”

Viktor frowned, and his mouth ran ahead of him, “Thought you - hurgh! - went to bed?”

Yuuri shook his head.  “I made you something - some tea.”

“I’ll puke, Yuuri.”

“That’s-”  Yuuri faltered a bit before forging on in a pained voice.  “That’s kind of the point, love.  It will make you feel better, and then you can rest.”  He handed Viktor a mug of tea, and the older man inspected it slowly.  Its scent was familiar, a Russian brand that Yuuri must have dug up in one of Viktor’s cabinets.  He hadn’t drunk it in years, but it was a comforting smell, in a way.  Not to mention, Yuuri was right, and Viktor did want to empty his stomach.  Still, he hesitated.

“You should go,” Viktor said quietly, staring bleakly into the mug.

Yuuri glared at him, and though Viktor would admit it was adorable, it wasn’t enough to make him reconsider.

“I don’t - urp! - want you to see me like this, Yuuri.”  Viktor’s voice - and in fact his whole body - shook as he spoke.  Shook from fever, from nausea, and from being torn between his desire for comfort and… fear?  “Please,” he whispered, voice trembling.

“No,” Yuuri said, softly, firmly.  He gently brushed Viktor’s sweaty bangs away from where they clung to his face, frowned when the older man flinched.  “Vitya, I love you.  I won’t leave you alone when you’re this sick.”

As if on cue, Viktor started heaving again.  He really couldn’t stop.  Tears sprung to his eyes as it became hard to breathe.  “Yuuri-“  He gasped.  “Please-“

Yuuri looked conflicted.  “Will you drink the tea if I leave?”

Viktor nodded, tears streaking his face.  Yuuri pressed a kiss to the top of the older man’s head, hesitated a moment longer, and then stood.

“Shout if you need me, love.”

Viktor nodded again, and Yuuri left.  A whimper escaped Viktor’s lips, and he raised the mug to them, then drank.

The effect was immediate.

Vomit, thick and heavy, came hurtling up Viktor’s throat, splashing into the toilet in a projectile stream.  He tried to catch his breath, but only ended up chocking on another stream of sick as it evacuated his body through both his mouth and nose.

“Yuuri.”  It was hardly a shout.  More of a desperate breath that just happened to take the shape of a name.  But in a metaphorical sense, it truly was a call for help, and somehow, Yuuri heard it.

He’s hands were on Viktor’s bare back in a moment, kneading out the knots in the sick man’s shoulders, cooling his feverish skin as his muscles continued to clench and unclench.  Viktor threw up again and again, and he felt like he was drowning.

“Vitya.”  Yuuri’s voice grounded him.  Yuuri’s hands grounded him.  Yuuri was Viktor’s lifeline, and the older man sobbed as the younger spoke his name.  “Vitya, don’t cry.”

Viktor couldn’t respond for a minute or two, still preoccupied with puking up his guts and unable to stop.  When he did get a chance to speak, his voice was raw and vulnerable.

“Don’t leave me,” he cried.  “Don’t leave.”

“Oh,” Yuuri breathed.  “Sweetie, no.  I couldn’t- I wouldn’t!  I would never leave you.”

Yuuri hugged Viktor’s trembling body even as he lurched over the toilet, watery stomach contents splashing into it once again.

“Vitya, I love you.  No matter what.”

Viktor shuddered, nausea making it hard to breathe even when he had a break from vomiting.

“Even if,” he coughed wetly.  “I’m sick and gross and weak?”  Viktor belched, and the action turned into a heave that brought up another mouthful of sick.

“Sick, yes.  Gross and weak?”  Yuuri pressed a kiss to Viktor’s sweaty temple.  “Never, Vitya, never.  And even then-“

He paused as Viktor retched, waited until Viktor managed to force up a meager amount of stomach acid before speaking again.

“Even then, love, it’s not that easy to get rid of me.”  Yuuri smiled when Viktor glanced at him.  “Not when I’m in love.”

Finally, Viktor relaxed into Yuuri’s arms, crying softly as the younger man showered him with love and kisses.  Eventually, Viktor sniffled and cleared his throat.

“Stay with me?”

Yuuri’s smile warmed Viktor’s chest in a way he’d never known he needed.

“Always,” Yuuri whispered.

why i will always support tall!Yuri and small!Otabek


  • yuri gently makes fun of otabek over the years for only growing a few more centimeters while he shoots up taller and taller, if for no other reason than to see otabek’s nose scrunch and hear him struggle to change the subject. he never teases too much and always makes sure to validate how much he loves otabek if he ever starts looking too uncomfortable.
  • if anyone else makes fun of the height difference, though, yuri is the first one to rip into them until they’re apologizing profusely. otabek just stands to the side while yuri goes off, trying not to laugh.
  • yuri still climbs all over otabek in public even though he has a good five inches on him and otabek adores the way yuri smiles when he does it so he doesn’t even complain when yuri hops on his back and demands to be carried around town.
  • otabek makes yuri get things off of the highest places in their apartment so he can ogle the little stretch of skin between yuri’s shirt and pants when he reaches for them. yuri catches on when he realizes that otabek definitely doesn’t need a dusty bottle of decorative potpourri for anything but indulges him anyway.
  • yuri accidentally grabs otabek’s shirts in the morning when he’s too tired to pay attention and pulls them on and finishes getting ready for the day. he doesn’t notice until he’s brushing his teeth next to a giggling otabek that he’s essentially wearing a weirdly-proportioned crop-top, too short in the torso but too loose around the shoulders.
  • sometimes, yuri decides to keep wearing the shirts anyway.
  • yuri is still a grade a clinger and has to fold himself twice over and then some to fit into otabek’s lap when he’s feeling especially needy.
  • otabek always makes sure to stop whatever he’s doing to let yuri get comfortable, even if it means losing his place in a book or getting a knee to the gut and an elbow to the face.
  • when they’re waiting for a cab or a bus or for food to be ready at a restaurant, yuri wraps his arms around otabek’s shoulders and rests his chin on top of his head. if he’s in the middle of something important on his phone, he’ll hold it out in front of them so both of them can read the screen.
  • big spoon!beka buries into yuri’s back while they sleep and loves being able to stretch out as far as he wants and still be able to touch yuri’s skin. little spoon!beka sleeps best when he’s absolutely cocooned in yuri’s body.
  • yuri overpowers otabek with sheer mass alone when he’s annoyed and trying to get away and yuri wraps his limbs tightly around him and refuses to let go until otabek forgives him for whatever dumb thing he’s done.
  • otabek strains up on his toes to try to kiss yuri when he’s being a little shit and not leaning down for it. otabek finally gets fed up and yanks yuri down by the collar of his shirt and kisses him silly.

i just love the aesthetic and the situation and them

Food for Thought Friday

I prefer to stay quiet when it comes to YOI for a number of reasons. The main reason is that Yuri!!! on Ice is one series I don’t want to overthink (or even analyze at all, strange as it sounds). It’s one of the few that I can just kick back and enjoy for no particular reason. 

Still, I had a thought the other day about that scene toward the end of episode 12, when Viktor asks Yuri if he can think of anything that “might excite” him. 

Note: I don’t mean for this to be any kind of controversial or concrete concept. It’s just a thought that I’ve had in the back of my mind for a few days, and I thought I’d share.

(I’ll also ask readers to please refrain from adding any kind of overtly sexual commentary to this post. Please respect that this is written with a very deliberate approach in mind).

Keep reading

dontfeelsogood  asked:

Where Yuuri and Viktor both get food poisoning and Viktor is just sitting there awkwardly rubbing at his upset belly whilst trying to comfort Yuuri who seems to have it a lot worse and is curled up in a ball in a whimpering mess moaning about how bad his tummy hurts and eventually throwing up.

this was such a cute prompt, thank you for sending it, friend!!!  i hope you like how it turned out!!!

WARNING: descriptions of vomit below

read the warning

read the warning

read the warning

okay, you’ve been warned!  enjoy the fic if you’re sure you’d like to continue reading!

“Ohhh, Yuuri, I think that seafood was bad,” Viktor moaned, rubbing a hand over his aching stomach as he crawled into bed, where his fiancé appeared to be nothing more than a lump hidden beneath the heavy comforter.  Yuuri remained there, unresponsive to Viktor’s complaint, so the older man whined again.  “Yuuuuuuri, my tummy!”

That time he did get a response, but it wasn’t what he had expected.  Nor was it what he wanted, but Yuri’s pained, barely restricted whimper was enough to make Viktor snap his mouth shut.  He slowly removed the blankets to reveal the love of his life, shaking, feverish, and sweating excessively.

“Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor said quietly, reaching towards the sick man.  Yuuri flinched away, tears in his eyes.

“My stomach hurts,” Yuuri said with what might be called an accusing tone as he glared at Viktor’s extended hand.  It was the most aggressive Yuuri had been in a long time, and Viktor backed off immediately as tears filled Yuuri’s eyes.

“Don’t touch,” Yuuri said, crying outright as he pulled himself into an even smaller ball.  “It hurts,” he sobbed.

For a moment, Viktor didn’t know what to do.  Massaging his own stomach hadn’t completely rid him of the pain, but it had helped, and he continued to do so as he racked his brain for a way to help Yuuri without touching him.  That was what was most important.  Yuuri always came first.

So why was it always so difficult for Viktor to help him?

But then, Viktor realized, the two of them had always been different in that way.  If Viktor was struggling, he wanted contact.  But, as he’d learned after failing to aid his fiancé through with countless panic attacks, Yuuri did not.  Yuuri preferred-

Ah, that’s right, Viktor thought, Yuuri preferred words.

“Yuuri, love, it’s going to be okay, I promise.  This will pass.”

Yuuri’s only response was to gasp in pain.  His face drained of color and more tears slid down his cheeks.  Viktor wanted nothing more than to wipe them from Yuuri’s face, but he resisted.  Instead, Viktor did what he could to transfer his feelings into the kind of comfort that Yuuri would understand.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to help you, but I need you to help me, too, can you do that?”  Yuuri didn’t respond, but Viktor went on regardless.  “I need you to tell me what you’re-“  Viktor sucked in a gasp as his own stomach cramped suddenly before he was able to continue.  “What you’re feeling right now,” he finished, voice tight as he rubbed his own abdomen.  Yuuri made a strange face, and for a moment, Viktor thought that he’d somehow managed to say something wrong already.  

Then the younger man belched, and vomited all over himself and the old comforter.

Viktor was upright in an instant, helping Yuuri to sit up and lean over the side of the bed as he continued to throw up profusely.  Wave after wave of sick gushed out of him, and a foul smell filled the air.  Viktor’s hand found his churning stomach once again, but he did what he could to help his fiancé.

“That’s it, Yuuri, just let it out,” Viktor urged, watching the smaller man tremble and sob.  “Don’t worry about the mess, love.  This will make you feel better, I don’t mind cleaning it up.”

Twenty minutes later, Viktor’s frazzled brain finally thought to grab a trashcan as Yuuri continued to puke up small bits of stomach acid and occasionally more almost-digested food.  Yuuri buried his head in the plastic bin as soon as Viktor handed it to him.  The older man sighed shakily.

“I think you’re empty, moya lyubov,” he said.  Yuuri shook his head and continued to retch unproductively until he choked up a bit of bile.  He had a few seconds to collect himself and breathe, and then it was back to heaving once again.

Viktor winced, and moved to get Yuuri a glass of cool water from the kitchen.  It took much longer than it should have, but his own legs were tired and heavy and his head was spinning, so he was just glad that he managed to get the fluids to Yuuri in the first place.  That is, until Yuuri gulped it down only to immediately regurgitate it all back into the trash can.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri croaked out then.  “I made a mess, and now I can’t even do this correctly, I shouldn’t-”

“Shhh,” Viktor quieted him.  “It’s no a problem, love, everything’s going to be just fine.  Here, look, I’ll clean the mess up right now, okay?”

But as Viktor attempted to clean, his stomach lurched violently.  He mumbled out an excuse to Yuuri, then sprinted to the bathroom and projectile vomited into the toilet.  Viktor could hear retching from the other room, and hoped that Yuuri was too exhausted to hear him as he shakily dialed Yakov’s number, then Yurio’s when the older man didn’t answer.  Viktor was still heaving when Yurio answered the phone.

“Viktor?”  For a moment, Yurio’s voice was pure and innocent, a little rough as though he’d just woken from sleep.  Then he seemed to fall back into his usual self.  “What the hell?  It’s four in the morning, you-”

Viktor lurched over the toilet and belched up a stream of sick.  He coughed wetly a few times before he was able to put the phone up to his ear again, hoping that 1) Yurio hadn’t heard that and 2) Yurio hadn’t hung up on him.  Viktor got one of his two wishes.

“Did you just throw up?”  Yurio asked, sounding rattled.  Viktor didn’t respond for a moment as his throat was too dry, and Yurio spoke in a small voice.  “Viktor?”

“Sorry about that,” Viktor finally responded, avoiding the question.  “I called because Yuuri has food poisoning and I can’t-”  Viktor’s voice broke and he barely choked back a sob as he said the words.  “I can’t take care of him, Yuri, even though I promised I - ulp - would.”

Yurio sighed loudly on the other end of the phone.  “You’re an idiot,” he grumbled, “and a liar.”

“I know,” Viktor sniffled.

“But,” Yurio continued.  “You’ve never lied to Yuuri.  That’s why you called me, right?”  Yurio paused and Viktor’s breath caught hopefully.  “I’ll be over there in ten to take care of you both, so shut up and get some rest, geezer.”

“Thank you, Yuri,” Viktor murmured.

With that, Yurio grunted and hung up, and Viktor stumbled back to Yuuri’s side to wait for help to arrive.

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

anonymous asked:

“I think I’m going to be sick…”
 SICK YURIO MAYBE?! (Possibly Otabek, Katsuki, or Viktor taking care of him?)

Hello friend! Thank you so much for your request! This one was actually written by a very special person to me, and I think it came out so perfectly. It takes place after the skaters have coffee the first night Otabek and Yurio became friends. Let’s call my friend Cupcake

Yuri had never been much of a coffee drinker, nor did he particularly enjoy tea. His coffee, if he were to drink any, would have to be something hot, composed almost entirely of frothy milk and sugar. That’s why, when he went for coffee with Otabek he ordered exactly that: the sweetest, most calorie-dense drink on the menu. Yakov wouldn’t be happy, but Yuri figured he was entitled to a treat every once in a while.

When he was halfway through his drink, and his and Otabek’s faces seemed much closer than they were earlier, the rich drink began to take effect. The milk settled uncomfortably in his stomach, the heat making his skin prickle. His throat seemed fight every sip. Even so, he smiled at the Kazakh man across from him and continued their playful conversation.

Everything had been going smoothly, other than Yuri having to turn his head every once in a while to stifle burps into his fist, until Victor Nikiforov and his band of misfits entered the quaint coffee shop and marched over to their table. Yuuri glanced quickly at Yuri’s fingers, which were annoyedly tapping the surface of the table, and looked like he wanted to say something before Victor began speaking.

“Oh good, you’re here! You two should come have dinner with us! Chris and Phichit are invited too!” Yurio noticed the two women behind Yuuri, his sister, Mari, and his ballet teacher, Minako, were practically vibrating with excitement. Before Yuri could politely decline, Victor said, “I’m not taking no for an answer!”

Not normally one to cater to Victor’s wishes, Yurio wanted to protest, but Otabek was already putting on his jacket and standing up to leave. Reluctantly, Yuri followed suit and stood. The coffee in his stomach twisted uncomfortably, and he decided against taking the last few sips. He left the mug on the table and walked out.
The restaurant at which they were to eat was less than a block away, and Otabek decided to leave his motorcycle in the lot of the cafe in favour of walking. Yuri trudged along behind everyone else, partially doubled over. The liquid splashing around his stomach was sending pangs of nausea through his system, reaching his throat. Yuri attempted to stand up straight, and the feeling in his stomach worsened. He his stomach bubbled, and he burped quietly, bringing a mouthful of foul-tasting liquid with it. He quickly swallowed it down.

Luckily, dinner passed quickly, and with little conversational effort from Yurio. The others around him had decided to order food for the table, and share it between them. Secretly, Yuri was glad. This way, no one would notice if he wasn’t eating. When the waiter brought the meal, Yuri’s stomach felt as though it were rising into his throat. The smell of the food made his mouth begin to water in a most foul way.

After nearly an hour of feigning disinterest, Yuri was finally given the cue to leave as everyone else stood up. Jean Jaques Leroy had appeared, someone Yuri found even more insufferable than Victor and his piggy-turned-fiancé. His stomach churned once more as he stood up, his mouth once again filling with metallic saliva. He had been battling with it all evening.

“Let me drive you back to the hotel.” Otabek proposed. It was not a question, it was an order. With every step towards the motorcycle, Yuri’s stomach protested more. He unleashed a maelstrom of wet burps into his fist, distrusting each one as they became more forceful.

“You’re quieter than usual tonight.” Otabek observed. Yurio shrugged, not wanting toped his mouth for fear of being sick on Otabek.

With a small degree of relief, and a large amount of panic, the two boys reached the bike. Otabek retrieved their helmets from under the seat, and handed the one to Yuri. Yuri took it soundlessly and placed it gently on his blonde head before climbing onto the back of Otabek’s motorcycle. His stomach settled slightly once he was sitting down. He wrapped his arms around Otabek’s stomach and let himself relax. The relaxation did not last long, however, because not long after, Otabek started the motorcycle, and pulled away from the curb.

What had been a fun ride in the middle of they turned out to be hellish at night. Although Yuri thought it was impossible to get sick on a motorcycle, he might’s well have been on a rollercoaster with how well his stomach was handling it. The coffee had unsettled his stomach more than it ever had before, the few bites of food at the restaurant exacerbating the nausea. Every bump on the road jostled him more than the last, and the feeling in his stomach grew more intense.

Otabek did not listen to music as he drove, and for that reason, Yuri had no distraction against the pain in his gut. Conversation on a motorcycle was a difficult feat, and Yuri had no intention of openings mouth unless it was absolutely necessary.

The motorcycle turned sharply, and Yuri, unable to breathe through the feeling anymore, tapped Otabek’s stomach rapidly. Otabek began to slow and pull to the side of the road.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, emotionless.

“I think…I’m going to be sick,” Yuri confessed, and clambered off the seat. Otabek had stopped near an alley, and Yuri was grateful for that. The last thing he needed were publicized images of him being sick all over himself.

He wandered into the mouth of the alley, careful not to go too far. He made it into the shadows in time to retch painfully. He doubled over, placing his hands on his knees. He took a gasping breath and retched again. There was a tug in his gut, and suddenly the small dinner he had had was gushing past his lips in a thick stream. He coughed forcefully, spitting more vomit onto the pavement in front of his feet.

Otabek had stood his bike up and joined Yuri in the mouth of the alleyway, and stood beside him, trying to avert his eyes.
It wasn’t often that Yuri fell ill, and it was even more rare to be without his grandfather or Yakov when it happened. His breathing ragged, he attempted to choke down another gag, only to have sick force it’s way up his esophagus of it’s own accord. The warm, burning liquid dripped from his nose as more acid splattered onto the ground.

Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, forced out by the powerful retching. He coughed loudly.

“Are you done?” Asked Otabek softly. Yuri shook his head without looking up, and gagged up another mouthful of sick. His body ached from the effort and his nose and throat burned. His mouth tasted foul. He took a shuddering breath and swiped at his tear-stained cheeks with the back of his hand.

To his surprise, the tears kept coming. He kept his head down, staring into the puddle of brown sick.

“Alright,” Otabek grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. To his credit, he did not wince at the tears, or the vomit under Yuri’s nose and mouth. “Let’s get you back to the hotel.”

anonymous asked:

Hi! Could you write some more emeto Viktor? Pairing viktuuri :) maybe motion sickness idk Thank you :3

here you go, lovely anon!  sorry for the wait, but i hope you enjoy the fic nonetheless!  it was quite fun to write ^_^

WARNING: descriptions of vomit and anxiety below

read the warning

read the warning

read the warning

okay, you’ve been warned!  enjoy the fic if you’re sure you’d like to continue reading!

“Ohhhh, Yuuri, look at those trees!”

Yuuri spared a quick glance.  “Oh yeah, there are… a lot of trees.”

“Wow, that farm is huge!  And look, there are cows!  Cows, Yuuri!”

“Mhm.”  Yuuri hummed, not even looking.

“Oh, no, they’re just statues… Ah!  Is that the ocean?  It’s so beautiful!”

“Viktor, I think that’s just a lake…”

It wasn’t that Yuuri didn’t care about these things that so astounded his husband.  It was just that he had found that Viktor tended to get a bit… overexcited, even over the most ordinary things.  Although this was an endearing trait that made Yuuri love the older man, it could be a bit overstimulating even at the best of times, let alone when Yuuri had been in the car with him for hours.  And while Yuuri didn’t dislike driving, and certainly didn’t mind taking the wheel for a while so that Viktor could enjoy the sights, it did cause him some degree of anxiety when he couldn’t focus on the road.

So when Viktor started to trail off and eventually stopped talking altogether, Yuuri was initially relieved.  Finally, he could drive in peace.

And yet, after a minute or so, Yuuri couldn’t help but worry.  He glanced over at Viktor, who was leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed, and tried to convince himself that the older man had simply decided to take a nap.  But Viktor didn’t often sleep in cars, and he had been so excited about this road trip because it was an opportunity to see the country as it passed them by.

“Viktor?”  Yuuri hoped that his lack of enthusiasm in responding to the older man hadn’t discouraged him enough to stop his rambling; it never had before, but Yuuri knew that Viktor was particularly good at keeping his insecurities hidden.

“Viktor, look at those clouds, they’re beautiful.”

“I saw them earlier.”  Viktor didn’t open his eyes, and Yuuri noticed an unusual strain to his voice.

“They’ve changed since then,” Yuuri said, trying again.  Viktor made a small noise of acknowledgement, but it sounded more like a groan, and his eyes remained shut.  Yuuri felt his eyebrows draw together.  “Vitya?”

Viktor turned away from Yuuri, his hands wrapped around his stomach.  “I’m tired,” he huffed quietly.  Yuuri’s concern spiked again.

“Vitya, did I…”  Yuuri hesitated, racking his brain for an unaggressive way of phrasing his next words before continuing.  “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!”  Finally, Viktor turned back and opened his eyes.  “No, Yuuri, I just- urrrp!”  Viktor clamped his hands over his mouth, but it was too late.  A belch had escaped his lips, and with it, a mouthful of watery vomit.  He attempted to hold the mess in his hands and coughed, forcefully repressing a second retch while Yuuri swerved the car to the side of the road, eyes wide.

As soon as the vehicle stopped, Yuuri jumped out and ran to open the passenger side door.  Viktor didn’t even have a chance to step out of the car before puke was spilling out of his mouth in a thick stream, he just bent over at the waist and aimed for the ground right outside the doorway.

Viktor shuddered as stomach acid burned his nose and throat.  He sputtered and gasped for breath, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.  Yuuri placed a hand his arm and gently guided him out of the car.  Viktor made it all of about three steps away before he doubled over and threw up again.  Yuuri rubbed his back and kept his bangs out his face as he vomited three more times and was then left dry heaving.

“Breathe, Vitya.”

As Viktor clenched his eyes shut and tried to breathe through the nausea, Yuuri continued speaking to him quietly.

“That’s it.  Good job, love.  I’m so proud of you.  There you go, just relax…”

As much as Yuuri preferred silence to constant chatter, he knew that Viktor was the exact opposite, so he kept talking until at last the retching stopped.  Then he grabbed a couple napkins from the car and carefully wiped off Viktor’s face and hands.  Viktor, for his part, was still uncannily silent, watching Yuuri with a dejected expression.

“Okay,” Yuuri said.  “You’re all cleaned up.  Are you feeling any better now?”

Viktor simply nodded, avoiding eye contact.

“Vitya?  Are you okay?”  Another nod.  Yuuri shook his head.  “I need you to look at me and say it out loud, love, otherwise I can’t believe it.”

When Viktor looked up, there were tears in his eyes, just as Yuuri had suspected.  His voice trembled as he spoke.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri,” he cried.  “I didn’t mean to ruin our trip!”

Yuuri smiled, shook his head, and wrapped Viktor in a hug.  “You haven’t ruined anything, love, I promise.  We can still have fun on this trip.”

“We can?”  Viktor pulled away, his expression a mix of curious, confused, and uncertain but hopeful.  “Even though I get carsick whenever I’m not driving?”

Yuuri laughed.  “Of course, silly, we’ll just have to be more creative as to where we spend our time.”  Viktor still looked confused and Yuuri struggled to keep a straight face.  “So, take tonight for example.  Since you need a break, and we both need to sleep, we’ll have you drive a bit and then stop at the first hotel you see.  And we’ll spend the night there, just you and me.  In the morning we can have breakfast together and go on a walk to stretch our legs, and then we’ll get back on the road and-”

This time Viktor hugged Yuuri, and it was evident that all of his energy had returned.  “You’re a genius, Yuuri!  A genius!”

Yuuri laughed.  “Okay, okay, let’s save all of this for the hotel, yeah?”

“You know it,” Viktor grinned.

Yuri and Yurio were practicing on the ice. Together. Once again. In Hasetsu.

Yurio wasn’t looking so hot though. He was much paler than usual and he kept stopping to put a hand to his mouth or double over.

Finally, Yuri’s worry got the best of him. He skated over to the Russian who had a fist pressed to his mouth and was swallowing compulsively. “Are you okay?”

Said Russian shook his head. Yuri started. Was Yurio being straightforward with him?

“Are you feeling sick?”

Yurio nodded.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

Again, Yurio nodded.

“Come on.” Yuri grabbed Yurio’s free arm and gently led him off the ice.

Victor, having seen everything from the sidelines but unable to hear a word shared between them, ran over to them as they stepped off the rink. “Are you okay Yurio?”

Yurio shook his head.

“I’m taking him to the bathroom.” Yuri explained softly, walking the teenager in that direction.

Victor followed in worry.

Yuri sat Yurio in front of the nearest toilet.

Still swallowing compulsively, Yurio grabbed onto the toilet seat tightly with both hands.

Yuri dropped to his knees behind Yurio and began to gently rub his back.

Yurio suddenly heaved, spewing a stream of pink vomit into the bowl.

Alarmed, Yuri stopped rubbing. “Are you throwing up blood?”

Yurio shook his head. “Strawberry Pocky.”

Yuri gave a breath of relief. Then he thought for a moment. “If you weren’t feeling well, why were you eating Pocky of all things?”

Yurio shrugged. “Thought it would help.”

Yuri sighed, shaking his head. He would have reprimanded Yurio had he not suddenly heaved up another mouthful of vomit.

Yuri got a sudden idea. He grabbed Yurio’s wrist and pulled off the hair tie he knew was there.

Working quickly, he pulled the blond’s hair back and put it into a tight ponytail.

Yurio thanked him with a small whimper before he was thrown back into another fit of heaving.

Victor made his appearance by crouching down next to Yuri with a dampened paper towel which he placed on the back of Yurio’s neck.

When the fit of heaves died down, Yurio clawed at the towel to get it off. “Too cold.” He complained.

“It will help.” Victor explained, keeping it in place.

“Нет!” (No!) Yurio complained once more.

“Оставь это.” (Leave it.) Victor instructed, swatting at Yurio’s hand.

Yurio flushed the toilet and leaned back against Yuri, glaring weakly at Victor.

Yuri brought his hand to Yurio’s forehead and sighed when the teen felt warmer than he should have. “I think you have a fever.”

Yurio closed his eyes and nodded. “Can we go back to the inn now?”

“Can you call a cab?” Yuri asked Victor lightly.

Victor nodded and pulled out his phone, standing and walking out of the stall to make the call.

Yuri gingerly pet Yurio, who began to drift off.

“Don’t go to sleep just yet.” Yuri said gently. “We still have to get you to the inn.”

Yurio whined, his face scrunching yo a tad bit. “But I’m tiiiiired!” He complained.

“I know but please try to stay awake. You can sleep all you want at the inn.”

“Нет. I sleep now.”

Yuri sighed. “At least get out of the bathroom floor.”

Yurio groaned but slowly pushed himself up.

Yuri helped him to his feet and to the nearest bench so he could lay down.

Yurio finally took the cloth off his neck as he laid with his head in Yuri’s lap. He placed the towel over his eyes.

Victor came back with a bucket that he placed beside Yurio’s head. “The cab should be here in about ten minuets. How are you holding up Yurio?”

Yurio moaned as a response.

Victor sighed and leaned down yo gingerly stroke the suck boy’s hair. “You will be better soon. I promise.”

Yurio gagged and shot up, throwing the towel off his eyes in his wake.

He clapped a hand firmly over his mouth.

Victor took initiative, placing the bucket under Yurio’s mouth just as the teenager heaved.

Yurio grabbed onto the bucket and vomited into it heavily.

Yuri rubbed his back and Victor placed the towel back on his neck.

After this round of vomiting was over, Yurio placed the soiled bucket on the floor and took the towel off his neck again, leaning back to lay in Yuri’s lap.

Victor sighed in defeat and Yurio fell asleep to Yuri playing with his hair.

About ten minuets later, Yuri was gently shaking Yurio to wake him.

The teenager groaned and opened his eyes begrudgingly.

“The cab is here. We have to go now.” Yuri said gently.

Yurio nodded and sat up.

Victor had already taken Yurio’s skates off and replaced them with his regular shoes.

Yuri stood then offered his hand to Yurio who took it and stood on shaky legs.

Yuri had to help the Russian teen walk from the bench, to the cab, and even had to help him buckle his seat belt before he got in the cab himself, sitting in the middle with Victor and Yurio on either side of him.

Yurio leaned on the door and tried once again to fall asleep while Victor gave the cab driver instructions on how to get to the inn.

Once the cab driver knew where he was headed, the vehicle started moving.

Yurio groaned at the movement and opened his eyes.

“Hey are you alright back there?” The cab driver asked.

“He’s sick.” Victor explained. Yuri rubbed Yurio’s arm in an attempt to help.

“Well he better not throw up in my cab.”

With that said the cab sped up, the driver desperate to get the sick teenager out of his car as fast as humanly possible.

About halfway to the inn Yurio suddenly jumped. “Pull over!” He all but pleaded.

“What?” the cab driver asked, glancing in the rear view mirror. Did the blond one look paler than earlier?

“Pull over!” all three passengers said at once.

Spooked, the cab driver did as instructed.

Yurio threw open the door and threw up all over the grass.

The cab driver, glad that none of it had ended up in his cab, turned to face the trio of males. “Are you sure he’s going to be okay?”

Victor nodded. “He should be fine in a day or two.”

The cab driver shrugged and turned back around, waiting for the teenager to shut his door so he could get back on the road.

Yurio eventually closed the door and leaned back in the cab, panting from exhaustion.

The cab started moving again, this time slower as to not aggravate Yurio’s stomach.

Yurio leaned his head on Yuri’s shoulder, trying desperately to not be sick again.

They eventually reached the inn and the trio piled out, Victor paying the man what was owed for the ride and then some for dealing with a sick rider.

The two adults walked with Yurio between them up to the inn and up to Yurio’s room.

The teenager feel asleep the second his head hit the pillow.

Yuri sat beside Yurio’s bed reading a book.

Yurio opened his eyes with a groan. Yuri placed his book on the ground, eyes trained on Yurio. “You alright?”

Yurio shook his head. “I have a headache…”

Yuri got up and went to the nearest bathroom. When he came back he had a bowl of water and a dampened washcloth.

He placed the washcloth on Yurio’s forehead and placed the bowl on the bedside table. “How’s your stomach?”

“I feel like I am going to puke but not right now. You know the feeling?”

“Yeah. I think everyone knows that feeling.”

Yuri sat back down in the chair he had sat next to the bed to keep an eye on Yurio.

Yurio hummed and closed his eyes. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Throwing up in front of you like that. I know that wasn’t the highlight of your day. And now you’re taking care of me when you should be practicing.”

“Don’t worry about it. If I didn’t want to take care of you I wouldn’t. But I care about you Yuri. And so does Victor. In fact, he’s out getting you medicine right now.”

Yurio gasped and sat up, his eyes going wide and his mouth hanging open. “You called me by my real name!”

anonymous asked:

Yuuri comforting sick yuri is what i live for tho, can u write a fic of that? Yuri could be in japan during summer and the heat is so intense he gets heatstroke

Yuuri knew that trying to get Yuri to do anything that wasn’t related to skating would be difficult. But Ice Castle was preforming maintenance for the weekend and the rink was closed. Victor had suggested doing something fun instead, but he was starting to come down with a cold, and somehow Yuuri convinced him to stay at the inn and rest.

“Oi, it’s hot out here.”

In the end, Yuuri invited the Russian teen to the local zoo, half expecting Yuri to decline, but pleasantly surprised when the younger accepted.

“It’s summer,” Yuuri answered mildly. He was used to the griping at this point. “Do you want to find somewhere to sit down?”

Yuri grunted and started making his own way over to a bench in the shade. After going to buy them both something to drink, Yuuri came to sit beside the younger skater.

Now that he wasn’t leading them both around the exhibits, Yuuri got his first good look at the teen. “Yurio, are you okay?”

“It’s hot,” Yuri mumbled, taking the bottle of water from Yuuri and holding it languidly, as though it weighed as much as a couple of bricks.

“So you’ve said. But how do you feel?” Yuuri didn’t want to voice much more than that, but Yuri wasn’t looking so great. His blond hair was drenched and plastered to his face with sweat, his fair skin alarmingly red.

The fact that he wasn’t drinking was worrying enough. As hot as it was and as much as they’re been walking around, Yuri should have been thirsty.

Yuri didn’t answer immediately, and Yuuri had to nudge him gently in order to get a response. “I’m fine,” he snapped finally, shaking his head as though clearing away a fog. As though trying to prove himself, he unscrewed the lid of his drink, tipping it back and guzzling with fervor.

“I didn’t mean you had to finish it all at once,” Yuuri said sheepishly. “Let’s wait for that to settle, and then we can go see the tigers.”

The light he expected to see in the blond’s eyes at the mention of his favorite animal just wasn’t there. Yuri looked exhausted—overheated and uncomfortable. Hidden beneath the deep flush on his cheeks, Yuri’s skin looked pale, his eyes sunken and dark.

They sat silence after that, the warm summer breeze bringing no relief from the heat. Yuuri quite enjoyed everything Hasetsu had to offer, but all his usual anxiety aside, something did not seem right with the young Russian skater.


Yuuri looked up, the sudden utterance of his nickname pulling him from his inner debate on whether they should just leave. They’d seen enough of the zoo for the day, and Yuri looked really uncomfortable.

The blond responded by exhaling softly and slumping sideways into Yuuri’s shoulder. He didn’t move after that, his breaths coming in shallow pants warm against Yuuri’s arm.

“Yurio! Hey, come on,” Yuuri said frantically, shaking the smaller boy gently. “I know it’s hot. Let’s just—”

Starting to panic at the blond’s unresponsiveness, Yuuri pulled out his cellphone. He would call Victor. He didn’t know what else to do. Thinking to ask someone at the zoo for help didn’t even occur to him.

With trembling hands, he started to dial. Yuri groaned beside him, and in a last act of desperation, Yuuri took his water and poured it over the boy’s head.

Yuri sputtered for a moment, but wasn’t coming around as quickly as Yuuri would have liked. He blinked blearily, his eyes glazed and unfocused. Without so much as a warning, Yuri pitched forward with a violent heave, throwing up the water he’d tried to drink. A lot of splashed onto the ground, but most of it covered the front of Yuuri’s shirt.

Now covered in sick, his worry increasing tenfold, Yuuri pulled back the younger boy’s hair back, trying to save that at least from the vomit gushing from his mouth in waves. His hands brushing against his face, Yuuri could feel the heat radiating off the other’s cheeks.

The commotion drew several stares, from patrons to zoo staff. Someone in a uniform, a worker from the zoo, rushed over, helping Yuri to his feet, explaining that they needed to get him indoors to cool off.

It was in that moment, the one time other than when he was on the rink, that Yuuri was grateful for all the attention.

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.”

Domestic Victuri
  • Yuuri making breakfast and Victor sleepily rubbing his face in the crook of Yuuri’s neck
  • Playing footsie under the table as they eat
  • Yuuri curling up against Victor with his head tucked under his chin as they sleep
  • All the neighbors just accepting them as a couple and the local shopkeeper always recommending things the other likes
  • Victor pressing kisses to Yuuri’s forehead as he removes his glasses before turning out the lights at night
  • Victor snapping the waistband of Yuuri’s underwear and being handsy as they try to get dressed in the morning and Yuuri just rolling his eyes, laughing, and trying to dodge because they have plans
  • Kotatsu snuggles

anonymous asked:

Hi! What about an all nauseous/dizzy Viktor with a concussion? Please xx

WARNING: descriptions of vomit below

read the warning

read the warning

read the warning

okay, you’ve been warned!  enjoy the fic!

“Viktor, sit down,” Yuuri ordered firmly, but his voice was quiet.  The older man was wincing and had a hand to his head, which he had just slammed - hard - on the ice, but he was still trying to stand on shaking legs.

“I’m okay, Yuuri, don’t worry, I-“ Viktor sucked in a pained gasp and stuck his arms out to his sides for balance as he swayed dizzily.  He was still on the ice, and there was no doubt that he would have fallen had Yuuri not been there to catch him and gently lower him to the ground.  Still, Viktor frowned.  “I’m alright,” he insisted, even as the world tilted sickeningly before his eyes.

“No, you’re not.”  Yuuri gave Viktor’s shoulder a squeeze, both for reassurance, and to ensure that the injured skater wouldn’t try standing up again.  Yuuri pulled out his phone to call for an ambulance, but Viktor stopped him with a lethal combination of techniques including a hand on his arm, puppy dog eyes, and a desperate verbal plea.

“Yuuri, darling, please.  I don’t like hospitals, and it’s probably nothing.”

Yuuri frowned, hesitant, but somewhat relieved that Viktor seemed slightly more stable now than he had moments ago.

“Please.  Let’s just go home.  The ice is cold.”

It was so like Viktor to offer a compromise in this situation.  As reluctant as Yuuri was to use the word compromise anywhere near related to Viktor’s health, he didn’t like the idea of forcing his fiancé to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, and at least this way he would be able to easily keep an eye on Viktor.  He nodded, and offered Viktor his hand, which the older man grasped with a smile.

As soon as he stood, however, his smile became a grimace. and any coloring in his already-pale face fled it immediately.  Yuuri’s heart leapt in his chest, fearing that Viktor might pass out, so he stepped closer.

Instead of passing out, though, Viktor pushed Yuuri away and doubled over as watery vomit poured from his mouth.  He heaved, hands clutching his head, and more sick spilled over his lips, splashing against the ice.  Yuuri held him steady and rubbed circles on his back, unspeaking, until the puking and then the dry heaving came to a stop.  This time Viktor sunk to the ground of his own accord, no longer caring about how cold the ice was.


“Yuuri,” Viktor interrupted, voice slow in a heavy, weighed down sort of way.  “Perhaps I’m not as okay as I thought.”

Yuuri’s chest fluttered; seeing his fiancé sick and injured was one thing; hearing him admit it was another, and it sent his anxiety through the roof in an instant.  He stuttered out a laugh and fumbled with his phone.

“You don’t say,” he murmured, squeezing Viktor’s hand tightly as he dialed for an ambulance.

anonymous asked:

Hardcore torturing yurio's external: give him.... *drum rolls* *DUDUDUDUDU* Appendicitis >:3 include as much symptoms as you can! Torture this boi i love so much ^w^ (i only enjoy seeing people tortured if they're someone I love HA)

Yurio rarely got sick, and when he did the illness would usually pass after a few days and it was almost as if he was never sick. This time was different. Yurio woke up early in the morning and for a moment he couldn’t figure out why, until he felt like someone was stabbing him in the gut. He tried not to scream out in pain fearing he would wake Viktor and Yuuri who were asleep next door.

He got up and went into the bathroom and took some pain killers and went back to sleep. A few hours later Yurio woke up again, not because of the stabbing pain but because he felt hot and nauseous. His belly rolled and gurgled sickly. Yurio bolted out of bed and started throwing up, the stabbing pain came back. Yurio took his t-shirt off hoping he would start cooling off.

The door to the bathroom opened and he felt a hand on his back. His blonde hair was covering his eyes so Yurio couldn’t tell who it was. Long fingers brushed his hair to reveal Viktor. 

“Are you sick?” What a stupid question Yurio thought. 

“No, I just felt like kneeling in front of the toilet.”

Viktor ignored the blonde boy’s response and began to lift him to carry him back to bed.

“Let me know if you need anything.” Viktor said. Yurio just nodded and fell back asleep. When he woke up again the sun was shining through his window. He felt worse than earlier his lower tummy was hurting and he knew if he didn’t get to the bathroom he was going to have a mess on his hands.

Yurio sprang up from his bed but as he walked to the bathroom he was becoming dizzy. His organs in his lower belly began to shift and he needed to go. After a few minutes in the bathroom Yurio’s stomach still hurt. He had never felt this sick before. 

He went to go lie back down but his stomach had other ideas. The sharp stabbing pain hit him. Yurio’s knees hit the floor as he screamed out in pain. The rest of his body fell and curled on the bathroom floor. Yurio’s stomach gurgled and he threw up all on the bathroom floor.

The door to the bathroom swung opened and Viktor and Yuuri ran in.

Yurio was sobbing, the pain was so bad.

“Yurio, talk to us.” Yuuri’s voice was filled with panic and worry.

“My… my stomach, feels likes someone is stabbing me.” Yurio’s belly gurgled and he could feel his tummy rolling, “I don’t feel so good.” A sickening belch escaped his body.

“What side does your stomach hurt?” Yuuri asked.

“All over, but mainly the right side.”

“Viktor, it’s his appendix. We need to take him to the hospital.” Viktor nodded and he picked the sick boy up. 

The car ride to the hospital was hell for Yurio. Viktor drove and Yuuri sat in the back. His belly rolled and felt his stomach shift. Yuuri held a bag for Yurio he had nothing left in his stomach but bile.

The arrived to the hospital and quickly took him back to a room. The doctor did a quick exam but given the amount of pain Yurio was in they wasted no time. Yurio was taken back to surgery. It was a routine operation but Viktor and Yuuri were still nervous.

A few hours later Yurio was taken into recovery and was feeling better. 

“How do you feel?” Yuuri asked after he came around.

“Better, but tired.”

“You should rest.” Viktor suggested.

Yurio nodded and soon fell asleep

So Yuri Plisetsky would definitely be the type to deny to hell and back that he’s sick (even when it’s obvious that he is). I’m just imagining him having a sudden bout of nausea that causes him to vomit all over the floor of the hall, and as he’s cleaning it up (trying to be quick, because he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s ill) Yakov or Lilia walks in and Yuri tries to come up with an excuse, and he ends up saying “Um, Petya had another hair ball, I’m just cleaning it up.” And it’s the dumbest lie because there’s way too much vomit to have come from a cat.

Needless to say, Yuri is guided back to his bed a moment later.

A/N: Okay, I yield. I’ve officially jumped on the YOI bandwagon. And this isn’t a prompt, (I know, shut up), but I couldn’t get it out of my messed up brain after episode 7…so here you go.

P.S. This doesn’t necessarily mean I officially write for the fandom. 

Yuuri could hear his heartbeat thudding violently in his ears. Blood rushing like a surging river throughout his veins.

Here he was, finally on the verge of a breakthrough…and he couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t go out there and make a fool of himself. He couldn’t go out on the ice and disappoint the only person who had ever believed in his ability to achieve something other than obscure mediocrity.

Already, his limbs had started to go numb, rendering them utterly useless.

He could hear the pulsating thrum of whoops and chants and cheers from the stadium outside, all of them eager to watch him struggle and ultimately fail.

Viktor’s hand rested lightly against the small of his back, fingers occasionally rubbing circles over his warm-up jacket as he stared at the screen. The gesture was involuntary, Yuuri knew, but it didn’t help. If anything, the contact encouraged his anxiety, propelled his misgivings into a whirlwind of panic. He wasn’t ready. He needed more practice. He would never be ready…

A wave of lightheadedness abruptly caught him off guard, causing Yuuri to sway back into Viktor’s steadying hand. He hadn’t realized how hard it had become to draw a breath. He felt his stomach constrict and his frantic heart rate flutter. Chilly sweat broke out over his forehead and upper lip - he licked apprehensively, swallowing against a surge of nausea.

“I can’t do it,” he muttered, chin lolling against his chest. He felt dangerously close to passing out. “I can’t…”

“What is this?”

Viktor’s soft accent sounded incredibly distant, floating over the horizon of unattainable dreams.

“Yuuri, you’re trembling,” he noted, tucking Yuuri’s jacket more securely around his shoulders. “Focus on your breathing exercises.”

At the moment, Viktor’s coaching wasn’t especially helpful, considering Yuuri was only capable of shallow, hitching little swallows of air.

“Viktor, I can’t do this,” Yuuri repeated, voice barely more than a whisper. He felt Viktor’s hand stiffen against his back.

“Of course you can!” Viktor reassured with a firm pat. Yuuri’s nervousness wasn’t something he was accustomed to dealing with in such a concentrated form.

A bubble of air careened up Yuuri’s throat, bringing with it a splash of his breakfast. Yuuri lurched over his lap, gulping thickly as he struggled to swallow down the warm sludge.


“I, uh…” Yuuri gagged in his mouth, feeling all of the nervous energy that had been building up over the past four hours swirling like a maelstrom in his stomach with no place to go.

“Yuuri, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Yuuri tried to breathe, tried to quiet his mind and calm down. But as he watched his competitor land his final set and the crowd went apeshit, Yuuri felt his heart drop into his toes and his meager stomach contents crawl up into his throat.

He clamped a hand over his mouth, releasing a sharp belch as his eyes widened with panic.

Viktor’s hand had vacated his back as his coach knelt in front of him, concerned eyes searching his face as his hands gripped Yuuri’s thighs. 

“I think…I’m gonna be sick,” Yuuri gulped, suppressing an aborted gag.

“Okay,” Viktor’s eyes narrowed with worry, darting around in an uncharacteristically desperate search for help. “Can you make it to the bathroom?”

Yuuri’s response was cut off by a particularly violent retch and all he managed was a minute shake of his head. Dizziness overwhelmed him and he began sinking off the bench towards the floor, both hands pressed firmly over his mouth.

Viktor caught him under his arms, easing him down as the younger boy whimpered into his palm.

“Hold on,” Viktor begged as he stood up and tore across the room.

A moment later, Yuuri felt something being positioned in his lap and Viktor’s hand bracing his shoulder.

Yuuri released his mouth in favor of gripping the small trashcan, burping wetly as strings of saliva dripped into the container.

“You’re all right,” Viktor soothed, sounding incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather have been anywhere else. Even his slow arcs down Yuuri’s back seemed hesitantly uncertain.

Yuuri’s ears buzzed as he attempted to swallow, trying his best to delay the inevitable even as his stomach gave a warning lurch. 

The humiliation was unbearable.

Yuuri belched again, trapped air rolling out in a long, gurgling heave. He felt his abdominal muscles contract, forcing a projectile flood of hot liquid up his throat.

He picked up the trashcan and buried his head in the plastic bag as a wave of curdled sick poured out of him, splattering the inside with a hollow thunk.

“Shit,” he heard Viktor murmur. His coach’s hand moved up to cup the back of his neck, holding him steady as he convulsed.

Yuuri didn’t have a chance to inhale before another choking surge of vomit erupted from his mouth, splashing violently into the mess he’d already made.

Viktor’s hands never abandoned him throughout the bout of sickness, slowly easing him through the lingering spasms as the attack gradually tapered off, leaving Yuuri a panting, sniveling wreck.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri gasped, eyes clenching shut as tears began flowing unchecked down his flushed cheeks. “I’m sorry you picked me.”

Viktor was silent for a moment, his hand having stilled against the small of Yuuri’s back, thumb rubbing absently as he watched the younger boy struggle through his overwhelming emotions.

“Stop saying that,” Viktor ordered, fingers reaching to tilt Yuri’s chin up. They were so close Viktor’s nose nearly brushed Yuuri’s forehead.

“I have never been sorry I picked you.”

Yuri hiccuped, wet eyes blinking up at his coach in disbelief.

“Not once,” Viktor continued with a gentle smile. “You are amazing, Yuuri. I want you to know and accept that.”

Yuuri sniffled, allowing himself to wallow a second longer in his moment of weakness as he dropped his forehead against Viktor’s shoulder.

“There are very few who can do what you do. And even fewer who could do it so beautifully.”

“But -“

“Be proud of that,” Viktor said, aggressively gripping Yuuri’s face with both hands.

Yuuri heard the announcer rambling through his introduction and felt his next breath catch in his throat as his eyes strayed towards the screen.

Shh, no,” Viktor jerked Yuuri’s head back, his gaze frightfully intense. “Don’t worry about them. I am proud of you. I know you can do this.”

Yuuri inhaled a deep breath, exhaled slowly through his nose and focused on Viktor’s unwavering eyes.

His heartbeat continued to falter, his stomach continued to churn, he still felt weak, overwhelmed with the childish urge to run away…

But he no longer felt hopeless.