#sohmamomiji

BEFORE THE BEGINNING — three sentences (or more) about something that happened before the plot of my current project

“Viiiityaaaa…”

Yuuri slumps against the wall, face downcast, and tries to push his glasses up his nose. The problem is that his glasses are on the kitchen table. When he pokes himself instead, he blinks, squints at his finger, and then up at Viktor, confused, and Viktor sighs and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “C’mon, Yuuri. You’re drunk. It’s bedtime.”

Yuuri makes a face. “No drinking. That party had really bad punch. Made me throw up. A lot.”

“I know,” Viktor says patiently, guiding him away from the wall and toward his bedroom. God, his best friend is a mess, and it’s not fair how much seeing him like this, taking care of him like this, is tugging at his heartstrings. “I was there.”

“Oh, right.” Yuuri careens into his side before regaining his balance, clutching at Viktor’s shirt, and blinks several times, finally looking up with big, sad eyes. “Vitya? The floor is spinning. It’s being mean. Tell it to stop?”

“Floor, stop being mean to Yuuri,” Viktor instructs. The floor does not respond, because it is a floor, but he’s a simple gay and he can’t resist a request from Yuuri’s molten puppy eyes. So what if he’s maybe in love with his best friend? It doesn’t mean anything. 

“It’s not listening,” Yuuri whines. “If the floor never stops bullying me how am I supposed to study for the micro exam next week?! I’ll fail and then I’ll have to drop out of school and die and I’ll miss you and - wait, no, I can’t miss people if I die, can I?”

“The floor told me it’ll stop bullying you once you get in bed,” Viktor interrupts, tugging him toward his room again. Poor Yuuri. He went to the party because he was stressed and needed a break, but now he’s just stressed and drunk. “It swears. So come on, okay? Just a little farther.”

“The floor is ugly and mean and rude,” Yuuri declares, swaying as he stabs a finger at the carpet. Viktor gives up, at this point, and leans down to wrap his arms around Yuuri’s hips to pick him up. “Wh-whoaaaa! Vitya! I’m flying!”

“Yes,” Viktor sighs, carrying him to bed. “Now you land,” and he does, with a thump, “and now you sleep.”

"There was no music last night,” Mari says, frowning in the afternoon sun. Now, it all seems so mundane that last night must have been a dream. How could there possibly have been lights under the lake? It’s ridiculous. “Are you okay? Did you catch something and come down with a fever?”

“I feel fine,” Yuuri says, glancing toward the water’s edge. The wind catches the bedsheet he’s pinning to the clothesline and billows it out like a white sail, big and bold. “Maybe I fell asleep on my feet. It must have been a dream.”

“Must have been,” Mari agrees. Both of them turn back to the laundry.

a space fantasy au, where near the beginning, yuuri falls through a rift in space-time, caused by some kind of magic that nobody has seen before, and winds up far, far from everything and everyone he knows, both spatially and temporally. shenanigans and also emotions ensue as he tries to find his way back to his family and friends.

combined with anon request:

MY FAVORITE PROMPT LIST!!! Can I give you a tough one and say 24 for Victuuri? If you’re not feeling that, I wouldn’t say no to a cute baking ficlet a la number 9 ;)

24. Without really meaning it

This is ridiculous.

This is absolutely, one-hundred percent, bona fide, dictionary-definition ridiculous.  If anyone told fifteen-year-old Katsuki Yuuri that in eight years he would be on the beach in his hometown about to apply aloe to Viktor Nikiforov’s back, like only every single beach romcom trope ever, he would have probably ... okay, he wouldn’t have laughed, he probably would have quietly asked if they could please stop teasing him now, but the point still stands.

Ridiculous!!!

“My mom even told you to put on more sunscreen,” Yuuri grumbles at him as they sit in the shade of their umbrella.  Viktor hangs his head and whines while Yuuri keeps digging through their beach bag to find the aloe lotion.

“But Yuuuuuuri, I thought I put on enough!”

Yuuri can’t quite mask a snort.  He’s rapidly finding out that figure skating’s living legend is something of a big baby.  It’s more endearing than it has any right to be.  “Well, apparently not...”

“Yuuri...” Viktor whines.  “I’m already dying of UV radiation, don’t be mean to me...”

“You’re not dying,” Yuuri tells him, tempted to poke the top of his head again just to see if it’ll get the same melodramatic reaction.  “You just got sunburned because you didn’t reapply after getting in the ocean.  Hold still now, I found the aloe.”

He squirts a decent amount onto his palms, rubs them together, and takes a deep breath to steady his stuttering heart before he starts rubbing Viktor’s shoulders.  This should not be making him as flustered as it is, but it’s such an intimate act, and Viktor is letting him do it, and his hands are on Viktor’s body, and oh god help him he is gay and in crush hell at this very moment, ocean please swallow him right now, thanks.

“Ohh my god,” Viktor moans, and Yuuri’s face flames.  “That’s so nice, Yuuri, I love you, please keep that up...”

Even if he wasn’t blushing already, Yuuri’s cheeks definitely still could have outshone the sun at I love you.  It’s a good thing Viktor’s back is to him.

“You really should put on more sunscreen next time we come out here,” he sighs, hoping he sounds much calmer than he feels.  Viktor just said I love you.  To him.  The world feels a little tilted, a touch off-balance, a bit skewed...

the need for validation.....