I'm back from the dead, sorta. This one will be a really really short one considering that I'm about to go somewhere... in about an hour. This will be a reader-insert in first person, something I stopped doing after my first year as a ff author LOL. anyway I hope you like it.
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The way he looks at his phone makes me wonder what's in there that always makes his eyes lit up. It's probably cats, it's always cats... That's what people think of when they see him from a distance. It's subtle, the way his eyes sparkle when he stares at the screen of his phone, but I know it's not the cats that makes his eyes go all sparkly and interested.
No, don't ask me. I don't know what piques his interest as well. But I do know that subtle spark in his eyes. It lights up a part of me every time. He doesn't cease to surprise me, it's just simply amazing.
His piercing, emerald green eyes always seem to stare right through my own eyes, reading me like an open book with letters big enough to be read from a mile away. He always knows what's up with me, even when I don't say anything at all. Maybe I'm that predictable? But, in a way, I know he's the only one who knows me more than anyone else does.
He has a very nasty attitude— stingy, as what Guang-Hong Ji said once. He doesn't want to be around anyone's company, always saying his profanities, yelling, and the like. He's pretty irritating, to be honest, but he has a side that only I see every day. It's sort of nice that he is comfortable enough around me to even peel off that stingy mask of his. Hanging out with him consists of a long, comfortable silence and sitting or laying on the bed, his or mine, just staring at our phones, and sometimes talk about animals or that one Facebook and YouTube channel, The Dodo. He loves to watch and look at animals, regardless of whether or not it's a cat. He likes a lot of animals, he just favors cat above them.
Whenever he's in the ice rink, his focus sharpens, and it feels like he doesn't care about anything else. From the bleachers, people will see a talented young man skating across the ice, but when I sit on a place where I can see everything, I feel the peace that's in his mind; nothing positive nor negative, it's in a neutral state that I still have to polish whenever I skate. I feel his relaxed body from where I sit and it feels as if he's dancing to me and only for me.
He has won a lot of times. The GPF, the other contests that follow, he never ceases to hold the gold medal after Viktor has passed his prime (he still cries every time I say that, what a crybaby, but he means well). He works harder than anyone else and I appreciate all the effort he puts in his career; he's a man who will surpass the living legend. Maybe he already did, maybe he still has a ways to go. But to me, he will always be ten steps ahead.
I like every aspects and everything about him, be it the good or the bad... maybe even the dirty, but above it all, what I like most— maybe even love at this point, is the way he dances with me.
Be it in the dancefloor of a night club, or of a party, or of a ballroom, or maybe in the ice rink; I simply love the way he dances with me. He looks at me with those cold eyes, but when he holds my hand, I will feel warm. I will feel relaxed and soothed. And when he moves across the floor, his movements are so smooth and delicate that it's almost as if he's dancing with an infant, filled with care and caution, careful as to not accidentally step on my foot or reel me to the wrong direction. He hates unnecessary attention, especially when we slip up and fall.
Throughout the whole dance, his eyes are closed, just like every time he skates. He's focused yet not enough to stop thinking about the world. He still knows I'm dancing with him, so he squeezes my hand gently to remind me that he knows he's with me. It's a habit that he does every time we dance and it's somewhat funny, but I don't laugh. I don't want to ruin the peaceful atmosphere.
When the music dies slowly, his eyes flutter open, and he looks at me. I look back, not saying anything, and before we part ways or return to our seats, he will lean forward and rest his head on my shoulder. I will feel the heat from his cheeks and hear him whisper my name.
"y/n, I messed up again, didn't I?"
I will laugh and give his hand a firm yet gentle squeeze, never letting it go like my life depends on that pale hand. Despite the negative attitude he gives off, he's actually a little ball of anxiety who thinks everything he does is a little off, thus he needs reassurance every time he performs.
"No one's probably watching." I'll say with a small smile. "You did great, Yuri."
"Of course you'd say that." He replies after and we leave the dancefloor. When we're back to our seats, he will lean a little more and place a small kiss on my cheek. "I like the way you dance with me."
"That goes the same." I'll respond and he proceeds to hold my hand again. We'll be in a comfortable silence as we watch the others perform.
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yuri on ice : one shots
Fanfictiona collection of one shots made by yours truly. may or may not be character x character. disclaimer: i do not own the characters. headcanon/s in one of these one shots may or may not be mine. i only own the plot (unless i've taken a reference for it...