long term relaysh otayuri hcs
(aka I need a break from writing the HaC sequel.)
- yuri never, ever wears his own sweatshirts. otabek will do laundry and find that all of his pullovers are stretched out from yuri pulling them over his wrists and fraying the sleeves with his teeth.
- (he doesn’t mind)
- if viktor and yuuri are like that couple who are a cross between your still-in-love parents and first-year newlyweds, otabek and yuri are like that the couple you might not even realize are together until you notice that they’re always within two feet of each other - that when anyone calls one of their names, they look over in sync, the exact same expression on their faces. they move in constant unconscious counterpoint. once you see it, you can’t unsee it
- otabek insists–endlessly, strenuously–that he’s not a fan of pda. yuri has no strong feeling on the matter but it does give him a feeling of superiority of yuuri and viktor. “we’re more restrained,” he says to mila. “yura,” mila says, "staring at someone like they’re the last glass of water in a desert counts as pda. it fucking counts, yura.”
- otabek needs alone days. and when they make a habit of it, yuri finds that he does, too.
- yuri’s emotions are like air: they expand to fill any given space. if you’re in the room with him for more than ten seconds, you know what yuri plisetsky is thinking. like, you really, really know. in time, with otabek, he learns to focus that intensity. he becomes amazed at how a simple “i love you” at the perfect moment can stop beka in his tracks. he wields the knowledge like a weapon.