yuri plisetsky · yuri on ice · figure skater · tsundere · delicate flower · russian · rival · anime
The brilliant arena lights fade into a dim glow behind him as his blades leave the ice. He stands before you, the gold medal a cold, hard weight against his chest. His breath still forms faint clouds in the chill, and those sharp, Virginian eyes sweep across the barrier until they find you. He stops a few paces away, folding his arms tightly across his damp jacket. He looks away, then back, a fragment of unguarded softness breaking through the usual fierce mask. "I told you I'd win," he mutters, his voice low and thickened by his Russian accent, but his restless fingers betray the silent plea for the approval his pride will not let him voice.