Do You Wanna Build A Snowman? - Viktor Nikiforov x Reader

Stuffed Animal Tissue Boxes - Viktor Nikiforov x Reader feat. Yurio Plizetsky

Summary:

The one where Viktor and Reader are participating in pair skating and Yakov and Maximillian are under no condition going to hold their ridiculous stuffed animal tissue boxes.

Yura unfortunately walks in on the event and two doggie tissue boxes were shoved on his face.

"Just get your tissues, dorks."

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Notes:
-Of course you guys know that given Yuratchka's participation in this, there's bound to be a couple of language indiscretion throughout the duration of the story in an attempt to make his character as impeccable as I can.

That's just about all, hope you lot enjoy!

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Work Text:

Yurio didn't actually mean to watch the pair skating competition in the Grand Prix.

Nope, he didn't. Because in his opinion, it doesn't have any room for punk, and therefore, could be considered nothing but a bore.

'Sides, why would he want to have to skate with another person who'd pretty much drag him down with them anyways?

The blonde Russian Punk scoffed and shoved his hands on his pockets as he entered the cramped rink.

"Really, this much people during pair skating?" He muttered incredulously, sending a glare at someone who attempted to hush him up. Let's see who'll get shushed, asshole, he made sure his visible light green eye was able to send his menacing message across.

It worked, effectively at that. The boy, probably around (Y/N)'s age, suddenly snapped his head back towards the rink and Yurio snickered when he reached one hand up to touch his neck.

That would hurt, idiot. "Try snapping your head more often and it might shake your brain enough to get some sense in it." He sniggered as he passed by the boy, making his way further down the bleachers.

"And the next pair is," the announcer began, "Russia's Viktor Nikiforov and (Y/N) (L/N)!" Cheers erupted from all around the large skating rink and echoing through every space possible on the inside, possibly even reverbrating until a few meters or so on the snowy streets outside.

Yurio grimaces when the people around him began cat-calling and hollering for their favorite duo.

It wasn't an unknown fact that (Y/N) is quite the charismatic and talented young skater, and that Viktor -as much as the Russian Tiger refuses to admit- can be quite a force to be reckoned with on ice and has a history of awards to back it all up, both have a solid fanbase and so the cheers really couldn't be avoided.

That doesn't mean Yurio would be any less aggrivated with all the unnecessary noise.

He had probably called everyone he came across to as stupid and had practically exhausted his very own dictionary of uncivilized insults for the brain dead populace that makes at least half of the population that isn't him when he reached the bottom closest to the rink where the coaches and the other skaters were.

A good half of them were more than just a little surprised to see him there. Some of the more courageous select few had actually come over to ask him whether he was there to watch Viktor and (Y/N).

"I just walked in on this and it just so happened that it was already their turn." The blond Russian Tiger gave his signature scowl before turning to get a closer look at the pair beginning to make their way to the center of the rink.

Yurio didn't miss the subtle unbelieving look on the fatso katsudon's face or the preposterous wiggle of that Thai bastard's bushy brows, but he chose not to speak as the music started.

Figuring that he'd be stuck here for a couple of minutes, the blond skater decided that he might as well fix his eyes on much more pleasing things.

"Yurio!"

"Yuratchka!

The boy in question almost didn't want to acknowledge the chorus of deeper voices hollering towards him but he doesn't have the option to leave, not when the performance had already started.

Turning to instead hurl a very angry snarl at both figures approaching him, Yurio shoved his hands deeper in his pockets and kicked at the cement barrier in front of him, "What the hell do you want?!" He medium-yelled because he had courtesy enough not to distract the audiences from the ensuing performance.

He then remembered being called by that wretched nickname, and his green glare met passive and bored darker ones, "And you!" He pointed at the tall French man in a suit and tie, "That's not my name!" And he swears he would very much want to wipe that condescending snicker on that bastard's immaculately sculpted face or pull at that ridiculously long blond hair of his had he been given the chance and this fag had not been (Y/N)'s coach.

"For a fifteen year old boy, your manners are despicable." The man mused, looking down at Yurio with a look of well-hidden distaste, before turning to Yakov, "You focused too much on technicalities, Yakov. Your skaters seemed to have never been taught how to act with genteel." He folded his arms over his chest and would've actually looked classy had he not been holding a stuffed Siberian Husky tissue box.

Yurio blinked in confusion, momentarily letting the fact that he'd just been indirectly called barbaric go (because that also goes to Viktor and Yakov), to look at the stuffed poodle his own coach had in his grasp.

Yakov doesn't seem to have anything else to say to that, "You do have a point, they do resemble dogs barking at my heels all the time, especially Yura. But at least they know how to skate like proper dogs, unlike your (Y/N) who barely follows protocols."

Maximillian, (Y/N)'s coach looked as slightly offended as he is subtly amused, "(Y/N) is simply an innovative young individual, unlike your little Viktor there who's careening towards the edge of being ordinary." He chanced a hypercritical glance at the older skater in the rink, "Running out of ideas, aren't we?" He rose a challenging brow at the Russian coach's direction.

"He's seasoned, unlike your rookie-"

"Viktor personally trained (Y/N) by the age of four-"

"That idiot couldn't teach anyone!"

The blond man gaves out a triumphant snicker, "There! You said it!"

Yurio shook his head, fighting the urge to just jump on the ice just so that he could get as far away from these two old men in diapers under their suits of pretend maturity.

"And they have the galls to call me a brat..."

-----To be continued

End Notes:

Chapter 2, anyone? I already have it stored in my drafts, just wanted to know whether or not you lot would want it to be posted in here or not~ ;)

Dasvidanya!