~.﹕{ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜʟᴇss}﹕.~ (Yuuri Katsuki x Reader)

Prologue

Looking at the bright screen of his phone, he scrolled through various news articles. Many if them were about the famous Viktor Nikiforov– well, that's all the media talked about anyway. Nothing has really changed through the years. Yuuri was still on a roll of continuous defeat, Viktor was still Russia's pride. Have I mentioned a rising star in the figure skating world? Ah, I haven't, have I? Yuri Plisetsky was making his way to the top.

Scrolling, scrolling...

"Katsuki Falls into Last Place. Will This Season Be His Last?"

Dark bold letters caught his eye. He read it aloud, a monotone look spread across his face. There was a tinge of disappointment in his voice. Who wouldn't be disappointed, though? Losing an international competition and your pet dog is stressful and sad.

There it is. His coach nagged him for reading that, apparently it causes him to be stressed. He excused himself to go to the comfort room. Locking himself in one of the stalls in a hurry, he whipped out his phone and dialed, listening to the sound of that familar ringtone.

"Hello? Ah, were you asleep? Sorry. You're watching TV? Huh? A public viewing?! Ah! I'm so embarrassed!"

"...I'm sorry."

At those words, tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He hung up, not bothering to wait for a reply. His hand went limp as salty tears streamed freely down his face.

Meanwhile, Plisetsky was just outside the stall Yuuri was currently in. He kicked the door, creating a loud thud that resonated through the comfort room. Yuuri jumped up, obviously shocked from the sound. He opened the door to the stall and muttered an apology. When he looked up, he saw the famous Russian Punk five inches away from his face. How fun. He was intimidated by the fifteen-year-old.

The Russian glared at him for a few seconds before speaking.

"Hey. I'm competing in the senior division next year. We don't need two Yuris in the same bracket. Incompetents like you should just retire already."

"MORON!"

He yelled that last part loudly and walked away, leaving Yuuri alone with his own thoughts.

"Retire, huh?"

He muttered. He went out of the stall and began packing up his things to leave. Nothing was waiting for him there.

Soon he found himself walking beside his coach. He walked slowly, he was in deep thought and thinking about his career. If he did retire, what will he do with his life? Skating had been his only priority.

"Mr. Katsuki!"

Someone yelled from behind. Yuuri turned around, looking at the person who had called him.

"You can't retire now! What would happen to your career?"

Yuuri thought for a moment before replying.

"I haven't made a decision yet. Please don't make assumptions."

"What will you do after you graduate from college?"

"Uh..."

"Will you still be training in Detroit?"

"I'll be talking that over with Coach Celestino."

Newscaster Morooka kept bombarding him with questions. Yuuri didn't listen, he was too lost in thought.

"Yuri."

A familiar voice snapped him out of his own thoughts.

"About your free program, your step sequence could use more..."

Viktor Nikiforov began nagging Yuri— Plisetsky, that is.

"I won, so who cares? Quit nagging, Viktor."

Viktor stopped nagging and his coach took his place, nagging Russian Yuri nonstop. Yuuri, on the other hand, didn't notice himself staring at Viktor until he turned around to look at Yuuri.

"A commemorative photo? Sure."

Yuuri just stood there, unable to say anything. He decided to walk away; he didn't want to make a fool of himself.

~.:A/N:.~
Hiya! Idek what this story is, I was just in the mood to write. Also, it's around 2 am here so it's not that good...

Anyways!!! I'll try to make this a reader insert with a bunch of routes, still don't know who to put other than Yuuri, Yuri, and Viktor.

Like, comment, and vote if y'all want me to continue this? I'd appreciate it!!

That's all, ciao!

Edit: I'll make separate books for Yuuri, Yuri, and Viktor :')