Allo!! Just wanted to say hello and that I love how you can reach out to me and soooo many others with your wonderful creativeness and writing <3 “Be my Chef, Yuuri” was one of my first fanfictions that I read on AO3, and its still one of my favorites. Thank you for being you!!
This is such an amazing ask to receive!! Honestly, any love that BMCY gets means so much to me, because it was my first completely fanfic and probably the one that I still hold the closest to my heart. Hearing that anyone loves it really, really means so much to me. Thank you so much for taking the time to send this to me and for taking the time to read my story, honestly I am sitting here smiling like a loon right now :) :)
If anyone else wants to check it out, you can find Be my chef, Yuuri on ao3 as part of the Love at Nikiforov’s series :)
This is part of the epilogue to Be my chef, Yuuri in which Victor celebrates his first birthday with Yuuri by his side. BMCY was my first completed multi-chapter fic in the YOI fandom and the support I received for this story was incredible. I will forever love this story and forever be grateful for all of the wonderful people it brought into my life!! Thank you to everyone who took the time to read BMCY this year and a special thank you for everyone who provided feedback on it!
(Also, there will be a follow up post with the family dinner. I still find a sense of peace with the Nikiforov’s family and I am using it to sooth my own soul today.)
Year One – December
Victor’s eyes fluttered opened, peering up at his ceiling. Yuuri had already left the bed, a fact that had Victor curious since normally Yuuri only got up after a series of tantrums. He was not curious enough to peel himself away from the warmth, instead snuggling down into the pillow that now permanently smelled like his boyfriend. It was the most wonderful smell in the world, one that had Victor smiling into the fluffy down.
Soft snow had covered their small piece of the world, giving them the excuse to close the restaurant for a few days. Even being off, it had been non-stop cooking and baking for Yuuri and Phichit who had prepared an insanely large feast for everyone arriving promptly at four p.m. for Christmas dinner. Victor hadn’t properly celebrated a Christmas since his parents died, and even then it was a subdued event mostly thrown as a thank you party for the restaurant’s biggest supporters. Last year’s Christmas had been comprised of Victor locating the bottom of a vodka bottle, grumpily hiding in the restaurant office to avoid the party Mila had insisted on throwing. This year, however, was going to be different.
Feeling the excited nerves zing over his skin, Victor kicked from the bed, pulling a sweatshirt over his head and sliding into his slippers. Stepping through the door of his room, he immediately caught the smell of bacon and French toast. He always made pancakes and sausage, just like his father, never able to master bacon or French toast in the way his mother could. It was the smell of his traditional birthday breakfast wafting up the stairs that had his interest peaked and his stomach rumbling, so he found himself jogging toward the stairs.
The view of his kitchen table had him skidding to a halt. Balloons were tied to his chair, a bright red plate positioned in his place, with what appeared to be a cardboard crown resting on top of it. Dazed, Victor walked toward the place setting, noting the stack of crumpled cards tied with a blue bow. When arms circled his waist, Victor turned to stare at Yuuri.
“When we were moving storage containers around, I found a box labeled Victor Birthday,” Yuuri spoke quickly, eyes searching Victor’s in rapid anxiety, “there were pictures of you as a little kid. They looked just like this,” Yuuri waved a hand over the table. With one arm still wrapped tightly around Victor, Yuuri stretched his free arm out for the bundle of cards. Gingerly placing it in Victor’s hands, Yuuri looked up to study his face. “Your parents saved every birthday card they ever gave you. I couldn’t figure out how to save the envelopes, but all the cards are laminated. The print shop said it will help preserve the ink.” Yuuri jumped when a tear fell onto his face that wasn’t his. “Oh, I’m sorry, Vitya,” Yuuri wiped a finger over his love’s cheek, using the newly determined nickname for his favorite human. “I thought you would like it.”
Squishing the stacks of envelopes between them, Victor hugged Yuuri as if trying to meld their bodies into one. Yuuri never had long speeches or flowing poetry which expressed his love. Instead, Yuuri’s love sang through everything he did, the intensely thoughtful moments that made Victor’s heart feel like it was going to burst. “It’s perfect, Yuuri, so, so perfect,” Victor let the tears fall freely, feeling so loved that he could burst from the overwhelming force of it. “Nothing could make it better.”
Yuuri peered over Victor’s shoulder, waving a hand to Phichit to come into the room. “Nothing, huh?” Victor jumped against him as the sound of scurrying feet erupted from the other side of the kitchen. “Are you sure about that?” Yuuri watched as the love of his life was tackled by a wiggling mass of brown poodle puppy, unsure who was more overjoyed at the meeting. “You have to name her, Vitya. We can’t keep calling her baby.” Yuuri winked at Phichit who hopped up on the counter to steal a piece of bacon from the waiting plate.
“Yeah, and she sleeps with you guys now. Hiding her in my room for two days has taken years off my poor fluffbutt’s lives.” Phichit peered down fondly, tossing a piece of bacon on the ground and laughing when the puppy pounced on it.
Rolling on the ground, Victor cooed and laughed as the puppy returned to cover his face with kisses. “Makkachin,” he whispered into the brown poof of a belly, “I’m going to call you Makkachin.”
As soon as I read the “katsudon/piroshky” prompt for day 3 of @yoianniversary I knew I had to take it back to the Be my chef, Yuuri AU. This is a scene we didn’t get to see in the original story and it occurs right after the conclusion of Chapter 13. Please enjoy Nikolai teaching Chef Yuuri how to make Katsudon Piroshky :)
The first time Yuuri had eaten the bizarre combination of piroshky and katsudon, he was in a hospital bed amazed by both the taste and the fact that he was alive. The car accident had left him unconscious and beaten, but in the first moments of consciousness, it had been a pleasant surprise to find Yurio as one of the rotating members of his bedside parade. Yurio’s caring gesture had also been a surprise, leaving Yuuri almost as speechless as the gift of heavenly food was presented to him in an unassuming brown bag.
Despite the hints of its existence, it was that quiet moment that confirmed the softer side of Yurio. Yuuri had woken up, opening his eyes to the presence of the surly teen, and was greeted with the sparkle of relief in the young eyes. Their relationship had already been different than Yurio had with most, and Yuuri prided himself on the ability to tease and support Yurio in equal measures. On that day though, their relationship had shifted. On that day, they became family.
Yuuri smiled across the prep counter, watching as Yurio carefully chopped the ingredients laid before him. Propped on a stool next to Phichit was Yurio’s grandfather, a grumpy-faced man who only showed any sort of amuement when his eyes landed on his grandson. Nikolai was fulfilling a promise, one made by Yurio and happily accepted by Yuuri.
The old man refused to give them the recipe outright, stating that piroshky was an art and Yuuri would have to earn his right to be called an artist. Never one to back down from a challenge, Yuuri had arrived at the Nikiforov’s kitchen, dressed for an off-day and ready to heed every one of his guest chef’s instructions. Phichit had happily accompanied him along with Victor and the rest of their found family would be joining them in a few hours for a specially prepared dinner.
Leaning in his favorite spot, Victor watched as Yuuri softly nodded, listening to each direction without question. His skilled hands worked the dough on the metal counter, forearms flexing with every pull and push. His Yuuri, alive, well and now a permanent fixture in the Nikiforov’s kitchen. It had been exactly one week since JJ and Isabella’s wedding and Victor could still feel his heart flutter every time he remembered the decisions they had reached that night. When Yuuri glanced up, Victor grinned, feeling the familiar ache is his chest that was only produced by his unconditional love for his chef.
“Pay attention!” Nikolai barked, making Yuuri jump and Phichit chuckle. The wrinkled hands reached over Yuuri’s, grabbing the ball of dough and smacking it down with a loud thwack. “It isn’t a lover,” he scoffed, shoving from the stool to push Yuuri out of the way, “beat it as if you are angry.”
“Well-” Phichit started, laughing as his sentence was broken by Yurio shoving a handful of sticky rice in his mouth. Sputtering the tiny white grains into the sink, Phichit continued to laugh at his own unspoken joke while Yuuri flushed cursing under his breath about his truly inappropriate best friend.
“Yuratchka, be nice to your friends,” patting Yurio’s shoulder, his grandfather moved to smack Phichit on the back and immediately confused all of Yuuri’s assumptions about him. The man had been similar in temperament to his irritable grandson for all of their time in the kitchen, and was now filling a glass of water to press it into Phichit’s hands. Yuuri was reminded of the dichotomy of Yurio in that moment, and smiled knowing exactly where his prickly protégé had gotten all of his most prominent personality traits.
“You!” pointing a finger at Victor, Nikolai shuffled across the kitchen and grabbed an unsuspecting Victor by the wrist. Stumbling over his own feet, Victor let himself be pulled across the kitchen and shoved next to Yuuri. Unable to resist the temptation, Victor snuck a kiss onto Yuuri’s temple as he used the counter to steady himself. “If you love each other, you cook together.”
“I can only make pancakes and sausage…” Victor trailed off when Nikolai narrowed his eyes leaning back with crossed arms onto the stool on the other side of Yuuri. Even though nothing was said, Victor could see the argument in Nikolai’s eyes and felt his own cheeks heat up with the silent reprimand.
Letting his eyes fall toward the ingredients spread over the counter, Victor remembered his parents cooking together. The laughter had bounced from every surface of this same kitchen, and even when they made a mess or accidentally burned a new recipe, they did so with a happiness that was as palpable as the food that was created. They showed their love for each other in so many ways, including their time building the restaurant that had become Victor’s own. Sighing, Victor glance toward Yuuri. “I could try, if you’ll teach me.” The flutter in his heart became a banging drum when Yuuri turned to beam at him.
“I would love to,” bouncing on his toes, Yuuri was barely resisting the urge to throw his arms around Victor. When he had been in culinary school and watched as kitchen partners had fallen in love through their time working together, it had been a secret fantasy of his to someday share the same joy. He wanted someone to stir batter with and throw flour at, while magically creating a meal that arose from the joyful mess of a kitchen. The daydream, one that he kept close to his heart, seemed to be coming true as Victor reached over to pluck an egg from the bowl.
Grimacing from his place at the cutting board, Yurio dropped his eyes back to the pork that he was carefully slicing. “What have you done,” he muttered under his breath, directing the sarcastic question to his grandfather. He made a guttural sound in his throat as Nikolai pinched his ear.
“Someday, you will fall in love,” nodding toward Yuuri and Victor, Nikolai settled back again on his stool, “then you’ll understand.” Everyone laughed as Yurio threw more rice at Phichit who had once again attempted to make a comment.
Several hours later, when the rest of the Nikiforov’s family had piled into the restaurant to devour the heaping trays of katsudon piroshky and olivier salad, Victor sat back in his chair to continue to pick dough from under his fingernails. He had helped stuff ingredients into the doughy balls and managed to chop potatoes without resulting in any major destruction. His head was still full of all Yuuri’s praise while his belly was full of katsudon piroshky. Sighing with happiness he slung an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, deciding to leave the rest of his nails alone for the moment.
Lost in his own mind, Yuuri let his head drop back onto Victor’s arm, replaying the afternoon in his mind. Victor had burned several pieces of pork, Phichit had made countless innuendos at the expense of Yuuri’s sanity, and Yurio had threatened to fry all of their heads at least twice while Nikolai had calmly observed them all with a slight smirk winking out from beneath his wrinkles. Smiling with the memories, which would now be a permanent part of Yuuri’s happiest moments, Yuuri let himself relax into Victor’s embrace. He had everything he wanted in life… including a brand new recipe which perfectly harmonized the place he grew up with the place he called home. Feeling luckier than he deserved to be, Yuuri tilted his head to press a kiss to Victor’s cheek, a silent thank you for fulfilling all of Yuuri’s greatest wishes.
Any headcanons for Viktor and Yuuri crossdressing?
Well, I wrote this little fic in the Be my chef, Yuuri universe about Yuuri helping Isabella pick out wedding shoes. Spoiler: he walks like a boss in heels ;)
And I wrote this one about Phichit, Chris and Yuuri breaking the internet by performing a dance in heels. (Based on this video)
@yoiweddingweek is officially underway and that means it is time to unveil the prologue and first chapter of the Be my chef, Yuuri Victuuri Wedding!!
I now pronounce you Dorks in Love is officially live and will be updating along with the Wedding Week Prompts! First up is Day 1: Wedding Planning
(don’t worry I am not skipping the bachelor party prompt, it has been grouped with day 2!) I really hope everyone enjoys jumping back into this AU with me!
From the give word prompts: "Do it. I dare you." - Phichit.
Five Word Prompts - Any Fandom
Headed to Be My Chef, Yuuri AUfor this one, because this screams sous chef Phichit to me. Wise, the bestfriend Yuuri could ask for, and the original darer of Yuuri to kiss Victor. Ah,sous chef Phichit, how I love you!
It was a quiet Monday morning.Yuuri sat at the breakfast table sipping his coffee while flipping through histattered recipe book. He wanted something different for the chef’s special inthe upcoming week and he couldn’t quite decide what to choose.
“Where’s Victor?”
Coming out of his concentration,Yuuri looked up to see Phichit filling his own coffee mug. The hamster pajamapants paired with the t-shirt sporting a giant pickle saying “I’m kind of a bigdill” made Yuuri chuckle into his own cup before answering. “Upstairs, stillasleep I believe. He was a little restless last night.” The dreams had beencoming again and Yuuri had spent most of the night waking a distressed Victorwith soothing kisses. If Victor could sneak in some extra sleep on their dayoff, it would certainly be good for him. Checking the time on his phone, Yuurifigured another thirty minutes and he would prepare breakfast to deliver toVictor in bed.
“Restless, huh?” Phichit leanedback on the counter eying Yuuri across the kitchen.
Yuuri knew that look. It was thelook Phichit had immediately before collecting the ingredients for his famousturducken. It was the same look that had come with the sentence “hey, Yuuri, I bet we could win this poledancing contest, dare you to try.” Most famously, it was the look that haddared Yuuri to kiss Victor on the night of JJ’s bachelor party. “Don’t,” Yuuriwarned, returning to his recipe book and refusing to look at his best friend.
“Are you going to take Victorbreakfast in bed?” Pushing from the counter, Phichit retrieved the tray usedfor that purpose and placed it on the kitchen island.
Willing himself to keep his headdown toward his book, Yuuri nodded. There were soft bangs and clangs from themain part of the kitchen and Yuuri’s grip on his coffee mug grew tight. Thesound of Phichit humming to himself had Yuuri’s resistance straining andfinally losing the battle he turned to face his best friend.
“Ta da!” Phichit waved an armproudly over the tray on the island. “Breakfast!”
The proud smile was Yuuri’s firsthint that the tray needed to be closely examined. Rising from his chair toapproach the island, his jaw dropped at the contents in front of him.
Phichit Chulanont, world classchef and sous chef, inventor of beautiful pastries, and foodie extraordinaire hadstacked an entire tray with nothing but whipped cream, chocolate sauce, syrup,peanut butter, and hot sauce. Lifting the last one from the tray, Yuuri slowlylet his gaze land on Phichit’s face.
“In case you are feeling spicy,”Phichit winked, very obviously proud of himself.
“I swear…” Yuuri hung his head,shaking it slightly. “There isn’t anything of substance on here Phichit, whatam I supposed to do…” Laughter rolled from his best friend as Yuuri’s sentencecame to a screeching halt. He was an idiot and Phichit… well, Phichit wasPhichit.
Tossing a banana onto the tray,Phichit continued to giggle. “For potassium, so you don’t get cramps.” Thrilledwith his own joke, Phichit hopped up on the counter, flipping the hot sauceinto the air and catching it. Carefully replacing it on the ridiculous tray,Phichit looked over his shoulder. “Hey, Yuuri…”
Freezing, Yuuri knew what wascoming. After all the years of friendship they had shared, Yuuri should havepredicted it and should have run while there was still time. Hands balling intofists on either side of the tray, he braced himself for the unavoidable.
Never one to back down from adare, Yuuri seized the handles of the tray, gave Phichit one last long look andheaded up the stairs to give Victor a very surprising Monday morning.
Because I love your Isabella from bmcy!, Isabella and high heels please! Does she love them or hate them? ( for the birthday game.)
I love you for prompting me to indulge in my cheesy love for Isabella, especially as Yuuri’s best friend in Be my chef, Yuuri. Consider this little one-shot as a side fic to the next chapter of I now pronounce you Dorks in Lovewhich should be out any day now… if I can get my act together ha ha
I only have one prompt left pending in the Nerd Birthday Game !! I will post my answer to that one sometime tomorrow night ;) Alright, I hope you enjoy this @artdefines06!! (It ended up almost 2,000 words because really, what is self-control and how do I get some??? so there is a cut because of length)
The bedroom was bathed in the softmorning light, spectacular diamonds dancing over the blue carpet as sunbeamsshone through the parted curtains. On the dresser the kitten who had invadedtheir hearts only a week ago, was batting Isabella’s hair ties onto the ground.Through the thin wood of the bathroom door came the sounds of running water,mixed with JJ’s boisterous singing voice. Tilting her head, Isabella listenedfor a moment before losing herself in giggles over JJ’s exaggeratednineties rock band persona.
Dragging a brush through her wethair, Isabella winced as the tangles were pulled into smooth strands. Her usuallight makeup was already in place and her pink shirt was neatly tucked into thewaistband of her pleated skirt. Locating shoes and wrapping presents were thelast hurdles to conquer before leaving for the party, and she flipped her phoneover to check the time. They had plenty to spare, even if getting JJ out of thehouse would be more like a long distance run while wearing a parachute than ashort sprint.
Giggling at her own thoughts,Isabella reached over the bed to retrieve the cardboard envelope whichcontained her printed pictures. Leaning over her knees, she snagged the pictureframes stacked on the corner of the bed. Carefully, she withdrew the two picturesfrom their envelope and set the second one aside.
Flipping the first of the twomatching frames over, Isabella pulled the backing away and gently slid thepicture into place. Pinching the metal brackets, she hummed to herself, pleasedwith her idea. Turning the frame over, her grin grew wider as she examined theflawlessly framed picture in her lap.
The beach of St. Petersburg loomed inthe background as Victor’s figure stood framed by the ocean. Splashing in thebackground were the rest of their friends, arms waving to beckon Victor to jointhem. Sun glistening off of his bare shoulders, Victor held his hair back fromhis face with one hand as the other rested on his hip. Cheerful smile andrelaxed eyes exemplified every bit of the happy-go-lucky guy Victor had oncebeen and now was as he smiled toward Yuuri from the water’s edge.
That joy had disappeared in themonths following the death of his parents. Isabella could distinctly rememberthe stoicly stern face, pointing directly toward the matching urns at the frontof the church. As the priest spoke the final prayers, the shadow remained overVictor, robbing him of the easy happiness that normally danced around him.
A happiness that would finally returnfour months later with the sudden appearance of Chef Yuuri Katsuki.
Setting the first picture aside,Isabella repeated the process with her second picture. It wasn’t nearly asartistic as the shot she had snapped of Victor, but there was a playful spiritto it, a reflection of the fun and laughter that Yuuri brought into all oftheir lives. Victor had gained a partner in love and life, but Isabella hadgained a best friend and the brother she always wanted. Humming louder,Isabella slipped both frames into their respective bags as she fondly recalledthe photographed day with Yuuri.
“Bells,” Yuuri hissed, grabbing herarm with an alarmed look, “this is a shoe store.” There was a wild look in hiseyes that told Isabella that Yuuri hadn’t heard a word she had said on thephone.
“I asked you to come shoe shoppingwith me!” Isabella giggled, threading her arms around Yuuri’s and pouting up athim. “You aren’t going to make me pick out my wedding shoes by myself are you?”Fluttering her eyelashes, she watched as Yuuri’s resistance cracked and thesmile broke onto his face.
“I didn’t listen again, did I?” Hesheepishly stared at his feet, scratching at the back of his head. The pink onYuuri’s cheeks made him look younger than his chronological years, and Isabelladidn’t resist the urge to ruffle his hair. When he let out a relieved chuckle,she continued to tug him to the back corner of the store.
There were rows and rows of whitebridal shoes ranging from the highestheels to the flattest soles. Intricate lace, confusing beads, and shinysatin covered each pair of delicate footwear that Isabella passed without asecond glance. Letting Yuuri’s arm fall away from her, Isabella bent toretrieve a box from the bottom shelf.
“Blue?” Yuuri questioned, raising aneyebrow while extracting one of the shoes from the box. “That’s a thing, right?Something blue?” He gently flipped the royal blue shoe in his hands, smilingwhen he dropped it back in the box.
“It’s a thing,” Isabella laughed,turning to place the shoe box on the nearest bench, feeling slightly proud thatYuuri had retained some of the inane wedding knowledge she had been shoving athim. “I want blue shoes. Could you help me find all the options? Size six.” Yankinganother box from the shelf, Isabella crinkled her nose and shoved them backinto place. She wanted to wear heels for her wedding, not look like a hooker.
For fifteen minutes, they scoured allthe shelves, pulling down every pair of blue dress shoes that they could find.Yuuri had jokingly shown Isabella a pair of blue tennis shoes, and laughed whenIsabella had taken his suggestion of blue flip flops seriously. The sparkly thong sandals were already resting against her purse, ready to be purchasedeven if nothing else was found.
“Can I help you?” The smiling saleswoman approached the ever growing shoe wall with a glance between Yuuri andIsabella.
“Uh, wedding shoes,” Yuuri answered,his eyes trailing to Isabella. She winked at him as she examined her feet inthe full length mirror.
“Bride and Groom?” cheerfullyinquired the woman, stepping forward to slip another box from the wall andadding it to Isabella’s pile. She startled when Yuuri and Isabella burst intolaughter.
“Bride!” Isabella pointed to herself,the giggles still coming as she watched Yuuri struggle with his own. “Brother,”she said pointing at Yuuri and watching the joy spread over his face. Everytime she used the word to describe him, there was a spark that flashed in hisbrown eyes. It made her heart sing knowing that their relationship was asimportant to Yuuri as it was to her.
Stepping around Isabella’s side, thesaleswoman continued to politely smile. “Well, may I offer you a glass ofchampagne? It is a little something we usually do for the brides trying ondresses, but the shop is empty today so someone should enjoy it.”
Shrugging at each other in acceptance,Isabella nodded her head in the woman’s direction. “I guess a little champagnewouldn’t hurt!” Flicking the shoes off of her feet, she shrugged again in Yuuri’sdirection as the saleswoman left to collect their bubbly refreshment. Yuurichuckled and tossed another shoebox into Isabella’s waiting arms.
As it turned out, champagne and shoeshopping had a more entertaining result than Isabella had expected. Halfwaythrough the bottle, which was mistakenly left with them as the store employeereturned to her spot to lazily scroll through her phone, Isabella was yankingYuuri’s shoes from his feet as they both giggled wildly. Shoving the impossiblyhigh heeled dress shoe onto Yuuri’s foot, Isabella paused to stare up at herbest friend. “Why do your feet look better in heels than mine do?!” her voicehad a squeaky pout to it and Isabella laughed into the back of her hand at thesound. “This is really not fair!” Shoving the other shoe onto Yuuri’s foot,Isabella stood and pulled Yuuri to her side.
“I can walk in them too,” Yuuriteased, bending to roll his pants legs slightly higher on his calves beforestanding to strike a pose. Lightly kicking boxes out of his path, Yuuri put onehand on his hip and strode down the aisle like it was a catwalk.
Isabella howled with laughter,dropping her weight onto the shelf for support. Yuuri had consumed enoughalcohol to be sassy, but not enough to fall on his ass, and the result was anamazing strut that Isabella had to commit to record. Slipping her phone fromher back pocket, she aimed the camera at Yuuri as he was beginning his walkback over the carpet. She snapped several stills as the video was running,praying that her giggles wouldn’t make the pictures blurry.
“Like what you see, pretty lady?”Yuuri pretended to lean toward Isabella, his attempts to sound pretend sexy were ruined by the giggles that bubbled from his throat.
She caught Yuuri as he stumbled, bothof them toppling onto the nearest bench and leaning on each other as the laughtertook over. There was no one in her life, including JJ, who could make Isabellalaugh as hard as Yuuri could. Tossing an arm around Yuuri’s waist, Isabellaleaned her head onto his shoulder. “I picked out my shoes four pairs ago,” sheadmitted casually, clicking the toes together of the patented leather monstrosities currently strapped to her feet. “I’m glad I waited to tell you untilafter the floor show though!”
Her peels of laughter caused thesaleswoman to slide from the stool in shock as Yuuri began to poke Isabella inthe sides. “Whatever, I am going to buy these shoes and wear them to therestaurant,” Yuuri tried to look serious as he slipped the shoes from his feetand back into the box.
“Victor would die a thousand deaths,”Isabella deadpanned, grabbing the shoes from Yuuri’s hands. “If I buy them, youhave to wear them, even for five minutes. Deal?” Sticking her hand out, shenarrowed her eyes at Yuuri in challenge. When he grasped her hand, Isabellahooted in triumph and retrieved her own wedding shoes. The extra thirty dollarson the strappy stiletto sandals was going to be more than worth it.
The sound of the bathroom door openinghad Isabella returning from her trip down memory lane. Smiling as JJ saunteredin the room, still shirtless with his feet bare, she shook her head at herlovable husband. “JJ…” Isabella warned as he leaned over the bed to kiss her, “youneed to get dressed so we won’t be late.” Feeling him chuckle against her lips,she raised a hand to touch his cheek. “Come on, love,” she emphasized eachword with a kiss to his lips. Smiling as JJ returned to a standing position,Isabella unfolded herself from the bed and leaned her presents against thepillow.
“What did you get them?” JJ pulled ashirt from the closet and slipped it over his shoulders before working at hisbuttons.
“Nothing big,” Isabella smiled at thebright bags as she slipped on her shoes, “something simple. A reminder really.”Even though JJ gave her a weird look, Isabella didn’t clarify. She knew whenVictor and Yuuri opened their respective bags, they would both find the beautyand the humor in pictures, a small reflection of the magnitude of theirrelationship. Yuuri brought the lost light back into Victor’s eyes and Victorbrought the laughter into Yuuri’s; they balanced each other and brought thebest of each other to the surface. Smiling up at her own loving half, Isabellatook JJ’s offered hand as they set out to celebrate the bachelor party of theirfavorite dorks in love.
No. 1 for @atelerixe :) Which is your favorite fic and why?
I don’t think it will come as any surprise that my favorite fic is Be my chef, Yuuri in the YOI fandom and Better Together in the ML Fandom. BMCY holds a place near and dear to my heart because it was my first full-length complete AU (ever!) but also because I really do love the world I created inside of the fic. For Better Together, the plot has a lot of twists and turns, but I love exploring action scenes and emotional scenes with the ML characters.
If I chose a singular one-shot, I am a big fan of the collab with @magical-mistral for the silliness of Dinopapasauras :) :)
