☆ OTAYURI ONE SHOTS ☆ [y!!!oi]

Let us be the unexpected. *

The first fic !! Yay ! （＾∇＾）
(also look at this beautiful aged-up! otayuri art. so nice. From @/istehluvrz on tumblr)

This is one of my favorites. It's hella long and really nicely written

Author: peachys on ao3
go show them some love!
☆Ship: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
☆Summary:
Yuri is used to overworking himself but Otabek helps him see everything he's been missing out on.
☆ Notes/Additional Tags:
-this takes place in America
-Yuri is 18, Otabek is 21
-Yuri does ballet and Otabek is a drummer
-Includes Underage-Drinking
-Aged-Up Characters
-Fluff and Smut

Enjoy sinners,,

Chapter 1

Yuri's legs are burning.

He hasn't stopped dancing for hours now, the time slipping by unnoticed. His whole body aches, actually, but he doesn't stop, just keeps going because he has to keep going, has to get this all perfect. He's used to it, the burn feeling like something familiar to come back to every day, something to keep him grounded in his purpose.

Everyone had gone home a while ago, leaving him alone in the dimmed studio with only his reflection in the mirrors for company. His hair is a mess, either sticking up at odd angles or sticking to his forehead with the sweat dripping down his skin. There's heavy bags lining the undersides of his eyes, making it look like he hasn't slept in days which really isn't all that untrue. These days, he's been getting such little sleep, rushing home after late practices to catch two or three hours before he's rushing back, well before the sun has even thought about rising because he has to get in those few extra hours of practice before anyone else gets there. He needs to be the best.

It's hard work, Yuri knew that when he started all this. It was what he wanted, though and now he'd never dream about backing out. He had to keep going, had to keep pushing and pushing, taking from his body all that it could offer until there was no more and then he'd keep going but-

But his ankle is twisting suddenly, pain flaring up his leg and he's falling down onto the hard wooden floor. He cries out, his lips parting in a pained gasp but no one is there to hear it. He's gotten hurt before, everything from broken ankles to deep, ugly bruises. He's gone through it all but this time as he massages the joint tears well up in Yuri's eyes, slipping down his cheeks and mixing with his sweat. It doesn't even hurt that bad though he's probably going to be limping for a few hours but still he cries.

He's not really sure why he's crying in the first place. He's never done that before not even when he broke his ankle right in half when he was fifteen and had to sit out of practice for weeks. This is different; this is frustrations, anger, the fear of not being able to get to where he wants to be.

The tears well and spill over, down his cheeks and to the floor. His hair has gotten so long lately, falling over his face and blinding him more than the tears. Yuri combs it back angrily with his fingers, more tears of frustration falling when the knots pull, and makes a messy, crooked, ponytail.

It's not fair, he still has so much to practice. He can't stop now, what'll he do? The walk back home seems so dreadful, so long. He's so used to spending most nights there in the studio that he can't even fathom the idea of going home at this time. He falls back against the cold, stiff floor, well-worn from years of being danced on. He lays there for what feels like hours, just thinking and contemplating about his next move. He can keep dancing but that would definitely lead to a break and right now, he can't afford that, not since Victor left and everything has fallen on him.