yoi drabble

The first time Viktor and Yuuri fight, they’re up until 5 in the morning.

It started with nothing in particular, actually. Something that Viktor had forgot, which happened often, but this time, Yuuri didn’t feel well enough to let it slide.

So of course Yuuri didn’t tell Viktor he was upset. He was still working on opening up to him, after all. It had barely been a month since that day at the beach. Progress wasn’t instant.

Yuuri’s lack of admission turned into a strange tension, which led to Viktor trying to comfort Yuuri. Which was exactly what Yuuri had said didn’t help him, that day at the beach.

Yuuri snapped when Viktor tried to engulf him in a hug and bury his face in his neck, apology ready on his tongue. Without thinking, Yuuri shoved Viktor back, with enough force to make him stumble.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Viktor yelled, blinded with hurt and confusion. Viktor knew what defeat on the rink felt like, but it didn’t compared to the bitterness he felt in his throat in that moment.

Yuuri’s face crumpled into shame and frustration. He dropped to his knees and held his face in his hands.

Viktor didn’t know what to do. Should he try to hug him again? Wouldn’t that result in another shove? But he felt useless standing there, hands craving to hold Yuuri’s.

“Yuuri…” Viktor started, reaching out. Yuuri only shook his head and covered his eyes with his arm.

“Don’t, Viktor. Please.” And Yuuri ran to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Feeling lost and dazed, the only thing Viktor thought to do was to follow him.

“I said don’t!” Yuuri cried, hearing Viktor’s gentle knock on his bedroom door.

“Yuuri, I just want to help,” Viktor tried.

“I don’t need your help.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t give any.”

A pause.

“Viktor. I overreacted. It’s fine.”

Viktor had to stop himself from whining. “No, Yuuri, it’s not. I made you upset. Please, let me help you.”

Viktor didn’t expect what came next.

“I. Don’t. Need. Your. Help.” Yuuri’s voice was low, measured, desperate.

And suddenly Viktor came to his senses, remembering what Yuuri told him. He didn’t need anyone overstepping his boundaries.

Viktor backed away from the door slowly, making sure his footsteps were audible. “I’m not weak,” he heard Yuuri whisper from his room, and he knew he wasn’t meant to hear that.

Viktor returned to his room, hugging Makkachin close to his chest. “He’ll come out,” Viktor told the large dog. Makkachin thumped his tail and stuck out his tongue. “Eventually,” Viktor mumbled.

Yuuri did, almost three hours later. Viktor noticed his shadow through the thin screen of the door. Yuuri hadn’t knocked, and Viktor didn’t think he was even going to. He opened the door for him anyway.

Yuuri’s eyes were turned down, but he lifted his hand from his side. Viktor took it with a smile.

“I overreacted.”

“I made you feel weak.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“But I did. So I’m sorry,” Viktor said. “I should have known better.” He squeezed Yuuri’s hand. Yuuri squeezed back.

“I’m sorry too,” Yuuri said. And slowly, he let his arms wrap around Viktor’s body, allowing himself to sink into the solid warmth. Viktor welcomed him.

“You push pretty hard,” Viktor said.

Yuuri didn’t say anything, but Viktor swore his ears turned a bit red.

“I’m pretty sure you could lift me with that kind of strength,” Viktor continued.

Yuuri’s hand scrunched up the front of Viktor’s shirt.

“Just you wait, Nikiforov,” Yuuri chuckled into his shirt.

anonymous asked:

"Tell Me No" viktuuri

This is about Viktor and Yuuri’s infamous non-sex tape. 

- as we all know, after Viktor and Yuuri are openly together post-China, Yuuri worries that his flubbed jumps will be attributed to a rowdy (and irresponsible) active sex life with Viktor

- it’s not that he cares if the fans speculate about his sex life. It’s uncomfortable but also par for the course. More like, he doesn’t want people thinking he’s sacrificing his skating for his relationship. He doesn’t want people to think Viktor started training him just as a catalyst to bone him. He just. Doesn’t want people to think he and Viktor don’t take their professions seriously. 

- Viktor understands where Yuuri is coming from but never really realized it was warping into a source of major anxiety until a fan makes a semi-popular joke of a tweet about just that type of scenario (“normally having a little Viktor in you would be a good thing, but I guess it makes it hard to land those quad loops, huh, @y-katsuki?”) and Yuuri spends a good chunk of the evening leaned against the tub, oxygen deprived and nauseated

- Yuuri insists he was just having a bad mental health night that was tipped over the edge by the tweet, but Viktor is disconcerted

- a plan snaps into place weeks later when Viktor browses ao3 (secretly, since Yuuri doesn’t like him reading fanfiction due to two separate rants regarding cheating fic and viktuurio ships). He stumbles across a fic about him and Yuuri recording a sex tape. 

- It’s a brilliant idea. He will release a tape. A non-sex tape. 

- “Here we are the night before the competition,” Viktor narrates, panning over the hotel and clicking home on his phone to show the time and date, 10:21p on Wednesday, January 24th. “Just picked up some snacks for my sleeping beauty.” The bag crinkles at his side as he walks towards the automatic doors. 

- “I think I can hear his snoring,” Viktor whispers into the phone, standing in front of his hotel room. He opens the door and a faint, sleep-congested rumble is audible till the scene jumps again

- Yuuri turns his face from the spot of drool on his pillow. “MmmV’tya where are the wheat thins?” He asks, eyes never opening. 

“You’re half asleep, honey, you can have them in the morning.”

“But the bears.”

Viktor tries not to laugh and combs Yuuri’s hair back from his forehead. “Shhh go to sleep.”

- the next morning, fan response is a combination of squealing over how cute and domestic they are and people tweeting at wheat thins to give Yuuri and Vik a sponsorship

- Viktor continues to film these little snippets before competitions. They don’t really prove anything, but they serve as a great distraction for the fans. In the end, it’s not so much ending fan speculation as it is about redirecting it

- and if Viktor enjoys watching them when the trappings of their careers find them spending nights apart, well, that’s just a happy bonus

headcanon:

viktor and yuuri say their wedding vows in each other’s native language. 

so viktor, in japanese: he’s learned a couple words here and there, enough sweet talk to make yuuri blush and enough slang to understand whatever the hell people in hasetsu go on about, but then the idea hits him from the middle of nowhere, a heart attack-esque and lightening strike epiphany - a picture of white suits and flowers and smiles too big for the stars and the whole goddamn universe - at practice one day. 

yuuri’s skating, cooling off in a way that shouldn’t be nearly as enrapturing as it is, and viktor’s watching, cooling off in a way that shouldn’t be nearly as lazy and motionless as it is, but he’s thinking. about the obvious, of course - the wedding, new routines, yuuri, the wedding, and yuuri - and then about the not-so-obvious, words and surprises and how he really should learn japanese if only for his currently sweating but still impossibly enthralling fiance… and now you can guess when it slams viktor nikiforov in the face. 

he’s consumed by it. viktor spends the next two months rolling those unfamiliar words in his mouth, working out all the ticks and stutters and catches because he always catches when he says shujin - but it’s worth it, he knows it’ll be worth it, to see the expression on yuuri’s face. 

and then yuuri, in russian: it comes about in a similiar fashion as viktor’s own revelation; he’s skating and thinking and most of all just breathing, and he wonders how to say husband in russian. 

he wonders if it would make viktor blush.

things only progress from there, and suddenly yuuri’s awake at two in the morning scouring internet pages and scribbling the cyrillic words on his hand. and he thinks distantly how it’ll sound, when faced with suits and crowds and viktor’s hands in his own - if viktor will cry, if he’ll smile, if he’ll just kiss yuuri on the spot right there, and then yuuri makes up his mind that he wants to see all three. 

(and he does see all three, but not before his own reaction is equally striking - enough so that phichit is brought to his own tears, and yurio is subsequently disgusted for the next week. it’s a perfect wedding, all things considered.) 

So I was looking at YOI screenshots today...

And I made quite an interesting revelation. 

Here we have Viktor Nikiforov. Russian. Pale skin. White as the freshest snow on the highest mountains of Russia. Nipples are a shade or two darker than his skin tone.

Clearly, this man never sees sunlight. 

That’s okay though. We love you and your pale, perky ass anyway, Viktor.

Ok. Now… adversely… 

Christophe Giacometti. Suisse. Fabulous as f-. Skin glowing golden as a ray of fucking sunshine. 

BUT WAIT! 

His nipples, what color are they? 

Pale? Pink? Peach?! I don’t know. All I do know is that clearly, Christophe’s nipples are way way lighter than his skin tone. 

… 

My revelation? 

Christophe Giacometti gets spray/fake tans. 

And I mean, it makes sense. Look at how fabulous this man is. Clearly he would be the type to sip champagne on a Sunday afternoon laid out on a beach chair while air drying a fresh spray tan by the poolside. 

Now… You may be asking yourself: Is this information important? 

No. It absolutely is not. 

But I came to this conclusion while half awake this morning and felt compelled to share it with all you lovely people in the fandom. 

Do with this information what you will. 

Victor is Amazing

I have always loved the fact that Victor finds Yuuri fascinating. We are talking about a man who could get anyone he wanted, who has people falling all over themselves to be around him and know him. He is the pinnacle of his sport and has no real competition; nobody who could truly challenge him. 

And we have Yuuri, who is an amazing skater in his own right, but through anxiety and self-doubt has not reached his own pinnacle. He has idolized Victor since he was a child, and he’s everything Yuuri strives to be. 

Victor really could have been to egotistical and annoying if he wanted to. He could have been a self important, unmitigated asshole who required everyone to worship him. But he’s not.

He finds Yuuri completely amazing. He is constantly telling himself how lucky he is to have someone like Yuuri in his life. He went on about how much he gets to experience things and feelings that have never happened to him before, just because he was lucky enough to find Yuuri. And that Yuuri chooses him is special. He sees Yuuri’s struggles and admire’s how he fights through them, becoming stronger in the process. He sees his imperfections and thinks they are all a wonderful part of Yuuri, and he believes in him absolutely. He finds every fiber of Yuuri’s being fascinating, and is thankful that Yuuri picked him.

the thought ‘oh my god, I’m old’ probably passes through Viktor’s head on a semi regular basis, like when it takes more moisturizer than usual to cover the expanse of his forehead or when he’s trapped in a car listening to Yurio’s favorite band of the moment and is this even music???

but what about when he complains about his aching joints during practice and it occurs to Yuuri for the first time, ‘he’s getting older.’ Four years never seemed significant when it was the difference between 23 and 27. But what about 66 and 70 or 76 and 80?  

Nervous late night Google searches reveal that men are at a higher risk for prostate cancer at 50, heart disease at 45. 45! It’s such a small number, and Yuuri doesn’t know the medical history of Viktor’s family which is concerning. He tries to skate around the issue for a while (it’s what he’s best at, after all), but Viktor can’t not notice how his husband has started staring into space for worryingly long intervals or how he’s traded out the contents of their liquor cabinet for red wine. 

Viktor finally intervenes when Yuuri cries over their wedding photos and tries to feed Viktor a plate of broccoli for dinner in the same night. It doesn’t take much persuading (just a hand on Yuuri’s hip and a kiss to his nape with a whispered, “what’s on your mind, my love?”) before Yuuri confesses his worries in a teary, snotty, messy deluge of unintelligible hiccupped whines and slurred words.   

Viktor holds Yuuri in his lap–stroking his hand through his hair–and reminds him that he’s still young, is in very good health, and freak accidents aside, just wants to spend whatever time he’s allotted living happily with the love of his life. 

“How could my heart ever be unhealthy when I have you in it?” Viktor asks, kissing the glistening trail of wetness of Yuuri’s cheek.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri sniffles and chokes on a soggy giggle. “You’re so cheesy.”

“But not so cheesy as to be unhealthy.” Viktor laughs along with Yuuri.

“What started all this, anyway?” He asks when Yuuri’s breathing has returned to a normal rate. ‘Please god don’t let it be my hair.’ “Was it my hair?”

“Vitya,” Yuuri’s tone is scolding. He smiles cheekily and ruffles his fingers through Viktor’s hair, squealing when Viktor grabs him by the waist and wrestles him down on the couch.

Viktor stares into Yuuri’s face–swollen-eyed but beautiful–and feels so very in love. He leans down and pecks Yuuri on the nose. “But seriously, Yura, is it my–”

His words are lost in a kiss, and that’s okay. 

He has plenty of time to ask. 

When Viktor tells Yuri he’s going to fall in love with Otabek, Yuri kicks him in the shin.

Like hell he’d fall in love with Otabek. They may call him the Russian Fairy, but he didn’t think Viktor would take the nickname so literally.

And Otabek is his friend. His best friend. He’s seen enough movies to know that falling for your best friend can hurt.

It’s been years since they’ve met. Years since Otabek rode up and saved him from a mob of Yuri’s Angels (He still doesn’t know why they’re called that when they’re anything but angels). Years since Yuri agreed to be his friend. And still nothing. Yuri knew Viktor was wrong.

In fact, Yuri has stayed for prolonged periods of time with Otabek before and doesn’t feel a thing. He’s staying with him right now. For the past month he’s been crashing at Otabek’s apartment, sleeping in his bed, lounging on his couch, sharing meals at his table.

Today Otabek drags him out of the house and straight to the animal shelter. He tells Yuri he wants a pet, something to keep him company when Yuri is gone. Yuri blinks as he follows along, startled by Otabek’s reasoning.

“It’s not like I don’t call you all the fucking time.”

Otabek shakes his head as they stroll down the endless aisles of cages. “It’s not the same.”

Yuri frowns. He doesn’t understand what that means.

Dogs bark at them from all sides. Yuri flinches when one leaps at the door to his cage, rattling the bars. Dogs are… okay. But Yuri enjoys the quiet, self-sufficient, sassy nature of cats.

Otabek, Yuri thinks, must be a dog person.

“Why don’t you just have someone else come and stay with you?” Yuri continues, moving closer to Otabek as a particularly large dog pants heavily at him from the next cage over. “Like your sister?”

“You know she’s busy with school,” Otabek replies, bending forward to tickle under the chin of a small beagle.

“Tch,” Yuri clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. He turns away from Otabek to watch a dog attempt to dig a hole into it’s fluffy little bed. “Who gives a shit about school?”

“Yura…”

Otabek’s reprimanding voice sounds further away. Like he left Yuri there to ponder the nonexistent logic behind a dog trying to turn it’s bed into a rabbit hole. With a heavy sigh, he turns and his heart stutters in his chest at the sight.

A small kitten dangles between Otabek’s hands, his touch gentle as he lifts her off the ground. Even from a distance Yuri can see the small red collar around her neck marking her as female. Otabek brings her up to his face, lightly pressing his nose against hers. He chuckles when her small tongue darts out to kiss his nose and Yuri swears the entire world tilts on its axis.

He doesn’t know if he can walk anymore. But it doesn’t seem like he has to because Otabek brings the kitten over to him. She glances up from her spot, snuggled against the bend of Otabek’s elbow and the side of his chest. Her eyes are the same color as Yuri’s, the same striking teal that Otabek has already admitted he loves so much.

“I think I found who I was looking for,” Otabek says with a smile. He runs a gentle thumb across the kitten’s cheeks and smiles fondly down at her. “Isn’t that right, girl?”

Yuri turns away as color rises to his cheeks. He’s pretty sure his heart is going to beat its way out of his chest and he can’t help but imagine the smug grin Viktor will wear when he tells him…

“Fuck it all…”

Tiny Yurio, Uncle Viktor & Teacher Yuuri - drabble

“Where’s granpapa..?” Yurio asks, arms up as his nanny places his backpack on him.

“He… is busy today so he asked your uncle Viktor to take you!” She lies, knowing his grandpa is sick.

Yurio wants to cry and give a good tantrum but resolutes himself to pout and glare as he is taken to Viktor’s car parked outside, knowing his grandpa wouldn’t approve of such behavior if he heard about it.

“Hey! Yurio~ !!” Viktor waves excitedly standing in front of his car. Yurio’s brows furrow more, annoyed at his uncle’s excited demeanor that contrasted heavily to his own unhappiness. He ignored Viktor’s cheery attempts and waits to be buckled in.

Yurio’s arms are crossed through the entire way they drive to school, eyes fixed out at the passing view through the window, and Viktor stares worriedly at him from time to time through the rearview mirror. Little Yurio already had such a hard time after loosing his parents…

Viktor gives up after the fourth attempt to cheer up the little one and simply drives quietly, exhaling in relief when they arrive.

Viktor unbuckles Yurio from his chair and holding his hand, which Yurio allowed begrudgingly, they makes their way inside. Yurio’s teacher is there greeting the little ones as they arrive and ushering them inside their classroom. Viktor notices surprised then, when Yurio’s face brightens up at the sight of his teacher. He watches as the teacher bends down to give Yurio a hug and a pat in the back.

“Good morning Yurio!” The teacher says brightly and Viktor is taken aback as Yurio smiles before marching into the classroom. “Ah..!” The teacher notices Viktor standing there. “Hello!” He smiles at Viktor, standing up. “I’m Yurio’s teacher. I’m not sure we’ve met before..?” He asks, stepping closer.

Viktor stares for a second as he notices how cute the man is before smiling back and reaching to clasp the younger man’s hand and shaking it. “I’m Yurio’s uncle, Viktor. I’m stepping in for his grandpa, he isn’t too well right now..”

Concern flashes through Yuuri’s face. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know how dear he is to him.” Viktor nods solemnly. “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.“ Yuuri adds kindly.

“I’m just glad he has such a nice teacher.” Viktor smiles remembering the way they greeted each other. Yuuri nods, blushing softly, before excusing himself to attend to his classroom. They mutter goodbyes and Viktor leaves to go to work. He calls the nanny and assures her he can pick up little Yurio today.

Hopefully he will be able to see the teacher again.

How She Got Her Name

Yuuri hummed lightly to himself as he attempted to read through twitter with his near two year old son squirming on his lap restlessly. It had been like this for almost an hour now, and he showed no signs of napping on his own. Yuuri secretly hoped this meant a much healthier sleep schedule was developing, but he wanted to be sure. Setting down his smart phone, he rolled Misha towards his chest, giving him the attention he obviously wanted.

“Hey now,” he said softly, “you wanna settle down a little?”

Finally, he stretched out in Yuuri’s arms and snuggled into his sweatshirt, smiling sleepily and preciously.

At that precise moment, he could hear the keys twist through the door as Viktor strode in casually, kicking off his shoes. Wasting no time, he came straight over to where Yuuri was sat on the couch and placed a kiss to his forehead.

“How is the best husband in the world?” He asked cheerfully. “And how,” he bent down and contorted his body further to give Misha a kiss too, “is the cutest baby?”

“Hi Papa!” Misha giggled, forcing himself to a sitting position as he stretched his arms out. Viktor didn’t hesitate to lift him, swinging him in circles as he danced energetic steps around the living room.

Yuuri pouted. “I nearly got him to go to sleep.”

Viktor brushed him off. “He’s not falling over himself with exhaustion, is he?” To further the point, Misha grinned wildly and waved at Yuuri.

Just sighing in response, Yuuri let it go. “How come you’re in such a good mood?”

He put on his signature smile. “Yurio finally landed that quad axel.”

“Really?!” Yuuri practically jumped out of the chair. “How come you didn’t say anything earlier? We should have taken him out for dinner or something!”

Viktor’s smile turned sad. “I offered but he wanted to spend the evening with Otabek. We’re losing him already.”

Yuuri wrapped his arm around his mourning husband. “They did get engaged just last week.”

Like lightning, something changed in Viktor’s eyes. “Anyway! Better things! Did you look at all the names I sent you yet?!”

He really didn’t like how Viktor had changed the topic so sharply, but Yuuri knew better than to pull Viktor up on it when he was like this. Later, for sure, Viktor would come to him in his own time when he wanted to talk about it. For now, Yuuri was going to play along.

“I looked at a few of them,” Yuuri answered honestly. “Are you sure you want her to have a Japanese name?”

Viktor almost looked a little offended. “Of course I do! Misha gets a Russian first name, our yet to be born daughter gets a Japanese first name. It works, Yuuri!”

He chewed his lip. “It’s just… Japanese names are a little complicated. Each one has so many different meanings and-“

“I really liked Koharu,” Viktor butchered as he tried to say the name. “And Sakura. Also Hinata and Misaki.”

Yuuri almost wanted to laugh. “They’re a little… flowery.”

Viktor pouted into his shoulder. “I liked it.”

Misha had grown restless in Viktor’s arms again, and was reluctantly let down. Viktor sighed and watched him shakily walk over to the TV, pressing the palms of his hands against the screen. They both stared at him longingly, already yearning for the days he was so small he couldn’t even hold his own head up. Unfortunately, the passage of time was inevitable.

“Me-eye,” Misha shouted loudly all of the sudden, tapping against the TV.

“Careful!” Yuuri went over to him and scooped him up again, afraid of him breaking something.

“Me-eyeeeee,” Misha continued to complain, trying to crawl over Yuuri’s shoulder.

“You can watch more of Mirai No Ie tomorrow,” he said, regretting ever subscribing to the extra Japanese children’s TV network.

Viktor met Yuuri’s eyes. “What even is that?”

“His new thing,” Yuuri shrugged. “It’s better than Masha and the Bear though.”

“Hey! That’s a great show!”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t think that after watching it for ten hours every day for a week.”

Ruffling Misha’s hear for a moment, Viktor withdrew himself. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Sure,” Yuuri leant in to kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll put him to bed.”

“Nyet!” Misha squirmed. “Tosa! Nyet!”

Viktor left them to it, but something stuck in the back of his mind. He decided that he totally would dedicate his next day off to watching odd children’s TV with his son. Mirai No Ie, huh? He knew that meant Mirai’s something or other… Mirai… That was a pretty sounding name…

Yuuri’s Luck - a coffee shop/college AU drabble

The beautiful, wonderful (and talented, go read her Anastasia AU!) @queen-among-writers sent me this coffee shop prompt where person A buys person B coffee because credit cards aren’t working and person B doesn’t have cash.

Here’s my response to the request:

The rain pouring over Yuuri’s back was a perfect metaphor for his life at the moment. A paper turned in an hour too late, a dorm room locked with his key inside, and a brand new hole in his favorite old hoodie had left him with a depressive mood matched only by Eeyore. Trudging through drilling downpour, Yuuri dragged himself to his favorite coffee shop, rain soaking his shoulders and plastering his hair to his face.

Shoving open the door, he was met with the familiar bustle of the college coffee shop. The place was eclectic at best, chaotic at worst. None of the chairs matched the tables and there was a corner completely dedicated to the love of beanbag chairs. The long counter glowed with a soft blue light housing sweets and cold drinks in haphazard organization. The dark wood of the floors and the walls gave the entire place the feel of cozy cavern and Yuuri sighed as he let the comforting warmth envelope him. A loud crack of lightning had him jumping, whirling around to see the flash brighten the darkened street. The storm raged on as Yuuri slipped through the scattered tables, praying his favorite seat was still available.

It was only Yuuri’s luck that would have the most gorgeous member of his university snuggled deep into the worn navy blue cushion of Yuuri’s favorite papasan chair. The other boys knees were tucked up to his chest, his silver bangs fluttering as he sang under his breath, eyes unfocused as slender fingers made scattered notes on a folded notebook. Yuuri knew that the seat wasn’t reserved for his butt only, but he felt a sense of frustration and anger rising in his chest. As far as days went, this one was nudging close to the top of worst days ever. Wordlessly, Yuuri stared daggers at a boy he had never dared speak to, unaware of how long he remained frozen.

Victor’s daze broke when he felt the heat of observation crawling up his spine. Slowly unfolding his legs, Victor cocked his head at the mysterious brown eyed boy who seemed ready to vaporize him with his hard stare. Slipping his headphones down, Victor smiled, despite the quiver in his stomach. Being silently threatened shouldn’t be exciting, but somehow, in the midst of a world where everyone bowed down to Victor and his never-ending popularity, the other boy’s murderous glare sent heat circulating through his body. Waving an unsteady hand, Victor leaned forward. “Hi, is there something the matter?” The boy’s huff sent his black hair fluttering over his forehead and Victor felt the flutters dance around the edges of his heart.

“You’re in my seat.” Yuuri should have been nicer, this was Victor Nikiforov, everyone’s best friend and the student everyone wanted to bang. Nice wasn’t in his skillset at that moment.

“I’m sorry?” Victor tapped his finger against his lips, “I didn’t know it was reserved! It is very comfy though, I see why you like it!”

When Victor made no indication that he was going to move, Yuuri huffed again, feeling his desire to continue the conversation crashing to a halt. His mood wasn’t up for banter and although Victor was the most beautiful boy in existence, Yuuri turned on his heel walking briskly toward the counter.

It took a full three seconds for Victor to remove his jaw from the floor. The brown eyes had ghosts of sadness in them and somehow a piece of Victor’s heart had been immediately lost in their depths. Pushing up from the chair, he flung his backpack into it, determined to pursue the other boy across the café floor.

“Yuuri!”

The wince crossed his face involuntarily as his cheerful roommate called from behind the cash register. If he had been paying more attention, he would have known Phichit was scheduled to work. His brain was a pathetic mush at the moment, so he had completely forgotten. “Hey, Phichit, the usual, k?” He smiled slightly at the silly face his roommate was making at him. Phichit was intentionally trying to pull him from his mood and Yuuri was weak to his antics.

“Sure,” turning over his shoulder, Phichit yelled to another barista, “half caf extra foam! And throw some whipped cream on there for my wet buddy!” Yuuri smacked a palm to his forehead, chuckling at Phichit. “Hey, you have cash right? Our credit cards went down because of the storm and the boss is here so no freebies.”

Yuuri’s luck. If it wasn’t bad, he wouldn’t have any of it. Sighing, he shook his head. “I never have cash.”

“I’ve got it!”

An eager voice sounded directly behind Yuuri’s head. Phichit’s eyes went wide, and Yuuri hesitated to look knowing instantly who was standing behind him.

There were several injured students who were causalities in Victor’s hasty stumble to follow in Yuuri’s tracks. When Victor heard the deflated sigh coming from his new object of interest, Victor had practically tripped over his own feet to play knight-in-cashmere-and-denim. “Add a caramel macchiato to that order please!” Happily, without waiting for Yuuri to collect an argument beyond sputters, Victor handed over his money to a bouncing Phichit.

“You guys can wait over there… together,” Phichit winked at Yuuri motioning to the end of the counter. Yuuri’s eyes narrowed at his roommate which led Phichit to wiggle his eyebrows in response.

There was something about the damp, sagging sweatshirt that made Victor want to touch it. Experimentally, he placed his hand on the small of the tempting back and guided the other boy down the counter. “So what’s your name?” Victor was enamored by the nervous fidgeting and the deep teeth marks the other boy was making in his lower lip, completely missing the answer. “I’m sorry, one more time?”

“Yuuri, my name is Yuuri.” He didn’t look at Victor when he spoke, nerves causing him to concentrate on the pressure still occurring on his lower back. Yuuri had no idea what was going on. “Thanks for the coffee, I locked myself out of the dorm, but I’ll pay you back.”

“No worries! You can buy next time!” Victor put himself a little more into Yuuri’s space, smiling as he noticed the blue rim of Yuuri’s glasses and the pink of Yuuri’s cheeks. “You know, we can share the chair if you like! It really is comfortable and you look like you could use some cuddles!”

Yuuri squawked. The noise itself was ridiculous, but the laughter it emitted from the baristas was worse. Looking over the counter at Phichit, Yuuri threw his roommate the best what-the-hell-is-happening look that he could muster. Phichit just laughed. Somewhere very close to the right side of Yuuri’s face, Victor was still talking.

“You can sit in my lap! I promise you won’t squish me, and I don’t mind that you are damp. You can tell me why you look so sad, Yuuri.”

It was the smile that tugged at Yuuri first. It was open and honest, nothing like the coy grin that had been in its place when Yuuri had first approached his chair-stealer. The blue eyes took responsibility for the second tug, a depth in them that Yuuri had simply missed. The way Victor had almost purred his name had the third tug threatening to pull apart his whole heart. But there was no way the interest in him was genuine. Yuuri’s luck simply didn’t work like that.

“Order up!” Sara yelled, holding two cups into the air, “I have orders for Yuuri, he is hitting on you, you idiot and Get it, Victor!”

The entire coffee shop burst into raucous laughter as Yuuri snagged his coffee, swearing under his breath that he was going to smother Phichit with a pillow. Next to him, Victor reached over the counter, thanking Sara for his coffee before sneaking a quick kiss onto Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri swore again, unable to construct any thoughts beyond the crude words.

“I am, you know,” Victor smiled down at Yuuri, lacing their hands together and dragging Yuuri back towards the chair. “Why don’t you come share this chair with me and let me keep it up?”

And because Yuuri had completely lost his mind in the middle of his terrible day, he did exactly that.

So how about Viktor recognizing Yuuri’s persistent low self-esteem and combating it with extreme amounts of positive reinforcement?

+

Viktor squeezes Yuuri’s shoulder when he passes him on the way to the dresser. “You’re looking handsome today, honey.”

“Fanks,” Yuuri mumbles around his toothbrush.

“It was so nice to wake up to you,” Viktor beams as he trips over his own feet while pulling on his sock. 

+

“Yurio made fun of my shoes again today.”

“But they’re ergonomic!”

“I know!”

“And you look adorable in them!”

“That’s your opinion, but thanks!”

+

Yuuri sits on the couch with his feet in Viktor’s lap, watching as his husband trims his toenails with loving care.

Viktor looks up at Yuuri when he finishes and smiles. “You know, you’re the love of my life.”

Yuuri’s throat feels a little tight from emotion when he giggles. “Thanks, Vitya.”

+

(19:36) we’re going to have to order out tonight. 

(19:36) I burned dinner

(19:37) sorry…Im dumb

(19:42) YOU ARE NOT DUMB

(19:42) YOU ARE MY BEAUTIFUL HUSBAND AND I LOVE YOU

(19:43) I’ll grab pizza :-)

(19:43) 💖💖💖👨‍❤️‍👨💕💕💕💕🐩🍕

+

Yuuri hops around the perimeter of their bed in nothing but his underwear, fake kicking and punching at Viktor who is tangled in the sheets, howling with laughter as their dogs tilt their heads and boof concernedly from the floor. 

“I’m dead, I’m defeated, you win,” Viktor manages between giggles, tears dotting his eyes. “KO’d by cuteness.”

Sigh, Victor....CHILL!

Yuuri: Talking about flexibility

Victor: Who the hell is Chihoko? Is he better than me?



Yuuri: Talking about sunglasses

Victor: Who is Ray Ban? Is he as handsome as me?


Yuuri: Talking about cars

Victor: Damnit Yuuri, who is Ferrari. I’m cooler, right?


Yuuri: Talking about his favorite alcohol

Victor: Yuuurrriii, who is Absinthe? Do they look good naked?


Yuuri: Talking about dogs

Victor: Wait, who is this Jack Russell? I’m more interesting.


Yuuri: Talking about food

Victor: Oh no, who is Dulce? Is he cuter than me?


Yuuri: Talking about clothing

Victor: Ok, what kind of name is Ralph Lauren?


Yuuri talking about his favorite ice skater

Victor: Who is this Victor? Can he really beat me?


Yuuri: Grinning at Victor, while watching him figure it out

Victor: Yuuuuuri, I LOVE YOU! (tackles Yuuri to the ground in a hug)

Angsty Yurio: working out his emotions in a healthy way...
  • Yuri: Victor, recently I've been thinking that Yurio's actually really upset that Otabek lost to JJ.
  • Victor: Oh? What makes you think that?
  • Yuri: It's just, I don't know how to explain it. (pauses) Just follow me.
  • The pair arrive at Yurio's dorm room. Music thrums mutely from behind the door. Yuri knocks then pushes open the door.
  • Yuri: (singing loudly, slightly off key) --TRIED SO HARD AND GOT SO FAR. IN THE END, IT DOESN'T EVEN MATTER~ (Lying in bed staring at Otabek Altin poster on opposite wall)
  • Victor: ...
  • Yuri: ...
  • Victor: (thoughtful)When did he get that poster?
  • Yuri: (shocked)That's what you're worried about!?
  • Victor: No, no! I'm just kidding. *Laughs* It's okay, he is just working out his emotions in a healthy way.
  • (Music cuts abruptly)
  • Yurio: HEY! Shitheads, what the fuck are you two doing in my room?! (Storms over, red-faced)GET OUT! OUT! OUT! OUT! *Pushes Yuri and Victor out by force* (slams door in their faces)AND STAY OUT!!!
  • (Sounds of Yurio kicking things)
  • (Yuri and Victor exchange bemused looks)
  • Yuri: (frowns) Is this healthy? When I was younger, I don't recall ever being that worked up about anything...
  • Victor: (laughs) Nyet, it is! I remember I was the same when I was his age. It's totally healthy!
  • Yuri: ...Oh, I had no idea. Okay
  • (Inner Yuri: This is probably a cultural difference. Russian youth are scary.)

It happened during the lunch break at his practice session.

With the Grand Prix Final coming up in about a week, Yakov had the whole rink under strict limitations of when and what they could eat, so an 18-nearing-19 year old Victor was eager to get to his food.

And then he saw it. Black writing, just barely showing from under his long-sleeved practice shirt.

Victor was well acquainted with the tales of soulmates and how a true soulmate could see the thoughts of the one destined for them appear like a tattoo on their skin. Not everyone had a soulmate, one that was made for them, to love them and help them and be with them, but people had found that they could find love anyway. At age 16, Victor had figured he was someone without a soulmate. It wasn’t an illogical conclusion.

But now, freezing on his way to put his skate guards on, he knew he was wrong.

He finished putting on the guards and ran. He ran as fast as he could to somewhere, anywhere private, ignoring the confused shouts from his coach. He turned down a corridor off of the main hall and went to the far end before slumping down against the wall and finally, finally, lifting his sleeve, prepared for what was the most prominent thought his soulmate was having, wherever in the world they may be.

Well, Victor had tried to prepare. He wasn’t ready to see the words written across his arm.

“Stupid. So stupid.”

What?

“How could I ever think I could do this? I’m no where near their level…”

Victor was floored. The first thing he ever hears of his soulmate that he didn’t know he had and they are putting themselves down!

The words keep coming. Writing out, fading, being replaced with something else. A never ending circle of self-hate.

“I’m gonna lose” “Every one is going to be so disappointed in me” “Minako-sensei wasted her money coming here” “I wasted my parents money coming here”

A few things stood out. One, Minako-sensei. Obviously someone his soulmate cared for. Sensei, Victor knew that was a Japanese honorific, he had been called that by his fans when he competed in Japan. “Here.” His soulmate referenced here twice, meaning wherever he was, wasn’t where he lived. And that people had spent money to get him there.

And then Victor was floored again as another line appeared on his arm, lingering a few seconds longer than the others had.

“How could I have ever thought I’d be able to skate against him someday…”

Skate. His soulmate is a skater? Being able to skate against someone else. Against, so yes. His soulmate is a skater. Victor could laugh at the irony. Him. A male figure skater, then.

Damn, Victor was good at this whole deducting thing.

But back to the matter at hand. The words were being replaced again.

“I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t fail them again. I’m so weak. But… I can’t quit. Quitting means giving up on my dream. It means disappointing them anyway. It means wasting all the time and money and effort that my family has put into me, all the faith and love.”

Victor gaped. If there was one thing about the personality of the person with the other half of his soul that Victor knew, right then, it was that whoever they-whoever HE was, he was incredibly strong. He was fighting his way through the thoughts plaguing him.

To him, however, it was two sides to the same coin. Disappoint his family by losing, or disappoint them by quitting.

Victor took a deep breath. He knew from experience what that felt like, though he hadn’t felt it in years. When he was just starting out in the novices levels he would always worry about losing and upsetting his parents. But even though he lost often in the beginning, they had always cheered him on, encouraging him and saying he’d do better next time.

Maybe… Maybe Victor could do this for his soulmate. He had never heard of anyone who intentionally thought so that their soulmate could see, but perhaps he’d be the first.

It was worth a shot, right?

So Victor thought. He blanked everything else from his mind as he thought of the only words he could to help console the one who’s thoughts were still lingering on his arm.

“Please, please let this work.”

“Hey. Stop being so hard on yourself. You are so strong, it hurts seeing you call yourself weak. Whatever it is that you are about to do, as long as you put your heart into it, your family will see that and they will love it, regardless of how you do. I believe in you. You’ve got this.”

It was silent in the hall aside from the ticking of his watch. Victor glanced down to read the time, laughing when he saw that he was 10 minutes late to return to practice and he hadn’t eaten a thing. Yakov was going to be pissed at him.

Victor found that he didn’t care.

Even less so when he saw the words on his arm fading and new ones appearing.

“I… I can’t. Everyone out there, they’re all so talented. I’m a nobody to them.”

He blinked. And then again. His message… It must of gotten through. Fantastic!

But the words themselves weren’t anything to cheer over.

“You aren’t a nobody to me. You aren’t a nobody to your family. You aren’t a nobody to Minako-sensei, even if I’m not sure who that is. You aren’t a nobody to the people that matter. Those guys out there? They don’t know you. Granted, I don’t either, but I have the feeling I’ll get there.”

“I don’t want to do bad.”

“Then go out there and skate to the music in the way that makes you proud.”

“I can’t… I can. Try. I can try. I will try.”

“Good. Make yourself proud, and I’ll be proud.”

“Alright. I’ve got this.”

“You do. I believe in you.”

No more thoughts appeared immediately following that, the last words his soulmate had thought to him still lingering there. “I’ve got this.” Victor was happy that he could encourage the other skater.

It wasn’t until Yakov forced them to watch the Junior Grand Prix Finals that Victor learned the name of his dear.

A young Japanese skater stepped onto the ice, eyes downcast as the camera zoomed in on his face. He was nodding along to what his coach was saying, finally looking up right before he had to go.

His dark brown eyes were absolutely captivating. His black hair left to hang in front of his face, his right hand holding a pair of bright blue glasses.

On his left arm, just barely visible, only noticeable to those looking, Victor could see through the sheer of his skating costume a few words.

“You do. I believe in you.”

Later, during the medal ceremony, the announcer said his name.

Katsuki Yuuri. Junior Grand Prix gold medalist, promising up-and-coming skater from Japan.

Left unsaid; Victor Nikiforov’s soulmate.

a proposed Grocery Bois scenario

“Yurik,” Viktor gasps, fumbling to lift a cabbage into his already overfilled arms, “what does this remind you of?”

Yuuri hovers his hands over the pile of produce, preparing himself for the inevitable fallout. He’s offered to grab a cart at least ten times already, but Viktor continues to insist he has it handled. Yuuri is the type to hang ten grocery bags off each arm if it means making one trip from the car to the house, so he doesn’t feel he has any right to criticize his fiancé’s determination.

Still, he doesn’t prefer to eat bruised vegetables if he can avoid it.

“Hmm, I don’t know, wha—” Yuuri glances up, for the first time takes in the cylindrical shape of the cabbage, the plump tomatoes resting at its base. “Vitya,” Yuuri’s eyes widen. He throws his hands back, glancing back at Yurio, clumsily flirting a few paces behind.

Viktor’s eyebrows knit together. “What?” He asks, looking from Yuuri’s flustered face to the cabbage resting innocently in the crook of his arm. His features slacken with realization and he bursts out laughing. “I meant the cabbages in Japan,” he chokes out.

Yuuri feels a hot blush pooling in the apples of his cheeks. “Of course, I-I knew that.”

“I didn’t know you had such a dirty mind.”

It’s a lie because Viktor is well acquainted with the depths of Yuuri’s sensuous inner workings. Even so, he’s distantly impressed that Yuuri could look at a bundle of leafy greens and come up with ‘cabbage dick.’

“Just wait till we get home,” Viktor whispers into Yuuri’s ear at the checkout. “I’ll make the best coleslaw of your life.”

“Oh my god,” Yuuri groans into his hands, “I can’t believe I’m marrying you.”

Yuuri chases Viktor around the house with the cabbage later. He claims it’s public embarrassment retribution, but in truth it’s just an excuse to be silly and have a make up make-out session on the couch.

Viktor pulls back from Yuuri’s mouth—chest heaving, huffing an airy laugh at the wilted leaf coiled against Yuuri’s temple.

Neither can I,’ he thinks.

anonymous asked:

Any headcanons on otayuri omegaverse?

*Otabek is a quite alpha unless provoked. 

*Otabek really likes cute things (something he keeps under wraps). So the first time he saw the ferocious kitten Yuri he knew right then and there he wanted him for his mate.

*Yuri is a predictably temperamental omega. He does not mind being one, but he hates when people think he’s weak.

*Otabek was the first one who assumed he was strong and powerful

*It took about six months before Otabek convinced Yuri that he really wanted him to be his mate.

*Yuri likes to curl up in Otabek’s leather jackets. Otabek often comes home to find Yuri sleeping on-top and under a couple of them.

*Otabek pretends not to know about the jacket Yuri stole and keeps in his practice bag.

*Yuri it a very tactile omega. He needs lots of affection from Otabek, even if he fights it. He’ll fuss, try to get away and push at Otabek but settle quickly in Otabek’s lap, content.

*Otabek let Yuri set the pace in their relationship. He also made sure to get to know Yuri’s Grandpa and Victor & Yuuri. Family is important to Otabek.

*Otabek likes the fact that Yuri eventually gets taller than him, but still curls up on his lap whenever they are in a seated position. 

Chris’s Reflections on Love, Lost and Found

Chris smiled at his beloved cat, letting her comfort him as his mind circled around unpleasant thoughts. Life was unfair, he pondered, stroking the soft fur as he rested his head against his bent elbow.

He had survived his first in-person encounter with the relationship deemed by the world as Victuuri. Survived was a loose term, his heart still aching with all the realizations that the Cup of China had dumped upon him. The man he had pursued, subtly and without aggression, had fallen for someone else. Even now, surrounded by all the comforts of home, Chris could feel the power of that loss.

It was heavier and sourer than Chris had thought it would be, seeing him in the arms of another. Especially when a year ago, Chris had been so close. A breath away, bodies moving skin-to-skin, Chris had held him inside a bubble that was all their own. They had moved together in fluid motion, never breaking contact, as if they were born to move together in this way. He remembered every moment and bitterly opened his phone to flip through the pictures again.

Amused, Chris had watched as Yuuri Katsuki stumbled through the banquet grabbing the wrist of Russian’s ice punk and flinging the young man onto the dance floor. A slurred snarl dared the blond boy to a dance off, and the night had suddenly become interesting. Taking a step forward, Chris had watched as Yuuri moved over the floor, as captivating in dance as he was in skating.

Next it had been Victor’s turn and Chris had felt the flare of jealousy lick over his heart. Victor had smiled, brighter than Chris had ever seen and he could feel the competitive spirit bristling in his bones.

When Yuuri had landed in his arms, Chris knew that there was only one way to eclipse Yuuri’s other dance partners. A secret Yuuri had shared with him one night over drunken texts.

So he had pulled Yuuri toward the stage, whispering sweet words of encouragement and praise into the pink-tinted ear. Chris had never intended on ending up in his underwear, but when Yuuri’s hands made quick work of removing his clothing, Chris had been powerless to resist. He returned the favor, narrowing the world to two people as he carefully removed Yuuri’s clothes, hesitating only in the thought that he would have to share Yuuri’s beauty.

Every fiber of Chris’s body remembered that dance. Yuuri’s strong arms and legs supporting Chris as they wound their bodies around a pole in perfect rhythm. It wasn’t a ridiculous manipulation of ballroom dance like Yuuri had shared with Victor or a battle of flips and turns like he had shared with Plisetsky. Their dance was raw, skin sliding over skin, a battle of desire stripped of all pretense and drowning in want.

At least, Chris had thought that’s what it was. When it ended, Yuuri’s feet had hit the floor, arm pulling Chris flush to his chest. The black hair had tickled Chris’s cheek as Yuuri leaned in, the breathy giggle far too innocent for the mess they had made of each other. The conundrum who was Yuuri Katsuki. Beautiful and breath-taking, shy and intimidating, talented and flawed. The man was everything and Chris had felt the hope rise as Yuuri remained pressed against his side.

Until the words had fallen against his ear. “Do you think he was watching?”

With those six words, Yuuri had jumped from Chris’s arms. A shirt covered Yuuri’s bare shoulders, his tie secured over his head like some sort of ridiculous battle armor. And then he was gone, moving across the room in dizzy zigzags to beg Victor to be his coach.

The picture made Chris’s stomach sour again. Victor had won that night, because Victor always won. But Chris’s hope had remained, knowing that Yuuri had left with his coach and not with Victor. Over the months immediately following the Sochi banquet, Chris had kept a close eye on social media, noting that it didn’t seem that Victor and Yuuri had found a way to each other. Reaching out to Yuuri by text, he could tell from the responses that Yuuri didn’t recall the events of the banquet. And Chris’s heart twisted.

So he had designed a program based on mature sexual love. He thought, if it was perfect, it would cause Yuuri to remember. If he could be enough, if he could be the man who Yuuri briefly trusted to touch his sacred skin, maybe Yuuri would want him.


Standing, Chris placed his glasses over his nose. He didn’t believe in soulmates the way Victuuri’s Instagram followers seemed to, but he did believe in love. As the door to his apartment opened, he smiled at the reason why.

A man built of creativity and biting sarcasm stood waiting for Chris. A man who had been by his side for years, but never took a place beyond choreographer and friend. Until the night that he had found Chris, crying and alone in his hotel room. They had talked for hours about loves lost and found, and how life would go on, even if it had to end a bit first. In the quiet of the hotel on their last night in China, Chris had found someone who understood him and loved him and he had thrown himself into that love with wild abandon.

Victor had won the heart of Yuuri Katsuki, but Chris had also won. Stepping into his boyfriend’s embrace, Chris let the bitterness fall away, ready to face the dreaded Victuuri and take the gold in Barcelona.

Got inspired by this… and I apologize for all the fluff omg the fluff…


Yuri is making himself a cup of coffee in the morning, wearing one of Otabek’s shirt, too short on him now but also a bit too big around the shoulders. It’s falling a bit, exposing his collarbones and leaving a silver of his stomach bare. He is wearing thick grey sweatpants too because winter is at its peak and despite the heating it’s still a bit chilly in his appartment.

He is thinking about last night, knowing that there is some bruises and bite marks covering his pale skin, he is lost in the wonderful memories of Otabek’s mouth against his skin… And suddenly there is a pair of strong arms around his waist and said mouth is pressed against the side of his neck, “Good morning.”

He knows his cheeks are turning pink, they always do whenever Otabek shows the smallest kind of affection. He feels his boyfriend’s smile against his bare shoulder and there his a low chuckle vibrating from Otabek’s chest to Yuri’s own, straight to his heart. And those lips, this smile is pressed against the heated skin of his cheek when Otabek reaches up on his tip toes to kiss him again.

“You hungry?” Otabek asks him, as he leaves him suddenly cold without the wonderful pressure of his body against Yuri’s. He walks towards the fridge and starts making them something to eat, stealing a few glances over his shoulder at Yuri’s, eyes gleaming when he takes in the flush still covering his lover’s cheeks.

*

A few days later, Yuri comes back home and there is a huge bouquet of flowers on the kitchen counter. Flowers of all shades of purple and it’s the prettiest bouquet he’s ever seen. Otabek is smiling at him from the couch where he was lounging, his book left open on his knees.

“What?” Yuri starts but he is speechless, his face turning red because as he forgotten something? Is it there anniversary already?

“You had a few rought days at practice, thought it would cheer you up,” Otabek says as he is walking closer, hair still damp from his shower and smelling like Yuri’s honey shampoo. 

Yuri looks at his feet, a bright smile taking over his features and his face burning up. Otabek puts a few fingers under his chin, silently asking Yuri to look at him. He is frowning a bit, concern filling his deep brown eyes, “Is this alright?” 

Yuri only nods, wrapping his long arms around Otabek’s shoulder and hugging him close, “Yeah, it’s perfect.”

Otabek frees himself from Yuri’s embrace just for a few seconds, just to press a few fingertips against Yuri’s cheeks, then he kisses it. Yuri can feel Otabek’s smile against his skin.

*

They are waiting in line at this nice little coffee shop close from Yuri’s flat and he is looking through his Instagram when he feels Otabek’s arm around his waist, a soft peck left at his temple. Yuri is thinking about getting an undercut but is a bit scared of the big change so, Otabek braided his hair this morning, close enough to his skull that it almost gives the same effect. Yuri loves it.

Otabek reaches up and kisses his handiwork. Yuri can feel him smile as soon as he knows his cheeks start heating up. Otabek leans his head on Yuri’s shoulder as they wait, fingers reaching up and under Yuri’s shirt leaving a warm, comforting presence against the skin of his waist.

On cue, Yuri’s skin is getting redder and Otabek starts laughing.

Yuri turns his head to look at him with a fond smile “Why do you enjoy making me blush so much?”

Otabek looks up at him, with a smile and a wink “It’s my favorite thing. That I can make the Ice tiger of Russia a bit weak.”

“Shut up!” 

Otabek shrugs, still smiling, “It’s true though, in all the years we’ve known each other, I never saw you blush for anyone else.” And he looks so proud of himself as he says those words, and he says them with a straight face like he is not ashamed of being so sappy and in love. 

“I don’t wanna blush for anyone else, anyway,” Yuri mumbles, looking at his phone instead of Otabek’s eyes because he isn’t brave like his boyfriend is. Yuri doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like Otabek does, but he wants to try. For him.

He is rewarded by a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth because they are still in public and the coffee shop if a bit crowded but there is some stars shinning in Otabek’s eyes when he looks up at Yuri and he smiles so bright when he whispers “good” with his lips pressed against Yuri’s cheeks, “that’s all I’m asking for.”