this is too adorable

sinkingorswimming:

prompt after my own heart

(Dommi Disclaimer: if you can “adopt, do not shop” for your dogs. Breed specific rescues exist if your heart is set on a purebred animal, and they can help you too!

If you have specific needs in a pet such as for a service animal which usually requires having the dog from puppyhood, please go to your chosen breed’s club website and find a reputable breeder. If the breeder you choose will not let you tour the facilities or only lets you meet certain dogs, has puppies basically on demand, and is not your national breed club approved…it is likely a mill. Reputable breeders will have waiting lists, sometimes as long as a year, for their puppies and you will be required to be vetted first as well as pay a deposit.

Please support rescues or shelters first and foremost, but if you must buy a breeder puppy, do so responsibly!)

Mari’s never let him hear the end of this since age 18, and now Yuuri is paying dearly for it.

Vicchan is a lovely, flawless specimen of the toy poodle breed. His bite is strong and well-aligned, his coat is the perfect texture and sheen, his eyes are clear, his temperament calm and obedient. Against all odds, his family finally made it to Westminster with Vicchan.

Yuuri wears a suit with a patterned blue tie and tries not to upchuck all over the Garden.

See, the thing is…Vicchan’s registered name is “Katsuki’s Victor Nikiforov.” As in the world famous owner of multi-time champion Makkachin, who is loved beyond compare in the world of kennel clubs and green carpets.

A man…currently judging Vicchan while he stands perfectly still on a raised platform. Victor the Human Yuuri has never ever fantasized about make outs with checks Vicchan’s teeth. “He’s beautiful,” he says after a moment.

“We think so,” Mari says. Her visible piercings and bleached hair make her a bit of a stand out among all the hairspray and pearls. She gives zero fucks as always.

A taller judge with blond hair and round glasses inspects Vicchan’s haunches. “He’s very well-bred, yeah. I can’t see a single flaw.”

Yuuri nods politely. Mari smiles.

“Vicchan,” Victor the Human says. “Almost like – “ He checks the official registration info which features Vicchan’s full name. “Oh.”

Yuuri winces, then chooses an escape route. “Mari chose it! It was solely her! I had nothing to do with it! Who even is this dog?”

Vicchan gives Yuuri an odd face, and he will apologize for a week in recompense. However, Mari turns in slow motion with eyes full of rage and murder aimed at Yuuri. “What.”

Human Victor’s smile is a bit disappointed. He leans close to Yuuri, dropping his voice low. “I was hoping you are my fan,” he whispers as he touches Yuuri’s lower back.

Yuuri spontaneously combusts.

Victor and the other judges move to a sour looking guy’s Husky as they’re onto the working dogs next. Yuuri has a sudden need for a velvet divan, smelling salts, and a fan made of crimson-dyed ostrich feathers.

What he gets instead is a slap upside the head from his older sister punctuated with indignant, shrill Japanese curse words.

Vicchan does not win Best in Show but he does win Best in Group, and it’s better than they could have hoped.

February in New York carries winds that bite against Yuuri’s cheeks, and when Mari suggests Le Bernadin to celebrate, Yuuri agrees because he’s starving and they can justify the fancier than usual fare thanks to their win. Vicchan winning means more notoriety for their kennel, and that means more money which will be good for their legacy.

As Yuuri puts on a mask and wraps a scarf around his neck, a tap on the shoulder alerts him to Human Victor. He’s in thick camel wool and leather gloves. “Yuuri, I was hoping…your Vicchan is lovely,” he finishes kind of…well, lamely to be honest.

Yuuri stares in confused crush since high school.

“You’re lovely,” Victor blurts next, then turns red, then coughs.

“You’re doing great, honey,” calls the bespectacled blond judge from before. Is he sarcastic? No one knows for sure.

Mari, snorting as she gets out a cigarette, seems to think sarcasm. “You kids have fun,” she deadpans. “I’ll see what Mom’s college friend is up to. She lives on the UWS.”

Yuuri barely registers her leaving. Victor is a bit blushy still, but Yuuri is fairly confident he’s no better. “Do you like caviar, Yuuri?”

“Ah…yes,” Yuuri manages. “Do you?” He winces. Victor asked him. He’s a dingus.

“You’re also doing great, honey,” blond judge adds with a slow clap.

Yuuri’s sigh is both loud and baleful.

“Caviar Russe?” Victor tries. He gestures at the blond judge, who pretends to read the Wall Street Journal instead.

“Sure,” Yuuri replies.

After taking a cab to their destination, Victor opens doors, holds out chairs, orders with Yuuri’s approval, and they exchange numbers before he brings Yuuri back to his Air BNB.

He may linger as he kisses Yuuri’s cheek goodnight, and Yuuri may let him.