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A collection of drabbles written for the 18OI monthly challenge(s)
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Written for YoI Rare Pair Week 2023
Prompt: Meet Me Behind the Mall
Yuri works at Claire’s. He hates it. He’s only there because he needed a summer job and his cousin Viktor is the manager and hired him a couple of weeks ago without all the usual BS, nepotism be damned. When they don’t have anything to do, or when they have busywork with no customers, all Viktor can talk about is the manager at Hot Topic. The guy’s name is Yuri, too, but Yuri refuses to acknowledge it and tunes his name out as Viktor talks about him incessantly.
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Written for the 18+!!! on ICE Bingober Event
Prompt: Volunteer Work
Yuuri is roped into a photoshoot and interview to promote PUP's rescue work, and what he expects to be an uncomfortable day turns out to have more than one pleasant surprise in store υ´• ﻌ •`υ
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At last, his stepmother reached the bottom stair and looked up, freezing for a moment as her eyes locked on Viktor. One painted-on eyebrow rose imperiously and a sneering smile twisted her lips. “And what do we have here? Playing dress up, Vitya dear?”
The diminutive dripped like poison from her tongue. Viktor returned her smile with a brittle one of his own. “Funny, Mother. I shall accompany you to the ball.”
She hated it when he called her mother. At first, she had wanted him to call her mama, as her sons did, but she could never replace his own. Later, it was a reminder that he wasn’t a simple servant after all. Her features sharpened into a haughty mask as she began advancing toward him, her steps mincing, hampered by the shoes and the gown, but no less intimidating.
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Pocha is upset. Viktor is home, and usually that means they have dinner and cuddles and snacks and play time! But sometimes when he gets home, Viktor picks Pocha up for his welcome home hug, then puts him down in the living room and shuts the door to the bedroom suite instead of taking Pocha with him while he changes so he can tell Pocha all about his day before he makes dinner. Considering that Viktor set Pocha down just inside the door after a quick hug, then took off toward the bedroom, tonight is one of those nights. Oh sure, he’ll get lots of cuddles and an extra snack and maybe even a new toy when Viktor comes back out, but Pocha is supposed to be with Viktor when he’s home! All the time!
*It's cute and fluffy and may have some semblance of a plot, but it is pochaporn. Enter at your own risk.
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Atop his platform the Kuninotokotachi smiled, raised hands that were white and clean. He spoke clearly and evenly in his own flowing language, giving benediction and reassurance to the camp of refugees that had been accumulating in this village in Calabria in the last four years. Victor didn't know Japanese, didn't understand what was spoken, but the soft voice washed over him like a river, seemed responsible for the gentle breeze that blew into the proceedings and disrupted the intentions of the merciless sun. A young man in blue under a white umbrella, with his eyes shining, and a smile in his words.
Christophe tugged on his elbow. "Did you hear me, Victor?"
"Mm?" Victor shook his head, trying to clear it.
"I asked if you were ready to meet him."
Victor Nikiforov, reporter for the New York Times, goes to Italy to interview a shinto priest in exile, and makes a friend.
Series
- Part 1 of the kindness of strangers
Bookmarked by faeriefirefly
19 Mar 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
Lovely, very well done, epistolary interspersed naturally with the narrative
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Otabek met his soulmate a long time ago.
A few months into their friendship, Yuri asked about it. “Are they shitty?” he asked, tapping two fingers against the black mark as casually as anything. They sat side by side in two ornate, decorative chairs in the lobby of the dance studio.
Otabek huffed a laugh through his nose. “What makes you say that?”
“You dropped them, didn’t you?” Yuri shrugged, slouching back into the stiff cushions and hooking a leg over the arm of the chair in a futile attempt to get comfortable.
“Is yours shitty?” Otabek asked, nodding down at Yuri’s wrist.
“Fuck if I know,” Yuri scoffed. He flicked his wrist upwards, flashing his own row of zeros.
Otabek’s lips twitched. “You don’t know who they are?”
“Don’t care, either,” Yuri said flippantly.
Otabek nodded.Bookmarked by faeriefirefly
18 Mar 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
Cute, sequel of sorts to https://archiveofourown.org/works/47569132
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"The Prince allows Victor to turn him with the assurance of a man who is used to those same hands in the tenderest sense; Victor has one hand on his elbow and the other slung around behind him to hold his shoulder, under his armour, keeping him close in an almost embrace. The sharp wind blows the high tail of the Prince's hair against Victor's cheek, their steps are slow and synchronized.
"Have I told you today how lovely you look?"
Drawn into a conflict outside of his responsibility, Victor Nikiforov, the greatest general of the age, appears to have met his match in the shy Prince of Japan who surrenders on the fields of Goryeo.
Series
- Part 1 of the ocean breathes salty
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A story about murder, the power of writing lists, the interest of the press, the politics of the Department of Magical Transportation and the struggle of being Percy Weasley.
Series
- Part 1 of November tales
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A story of loss and grief, the best section of the newspaper, art appreciation, good and bad detective work and the awful way around words of Harry Potter.
Series
- Part 2 of November tales