YoI request please! Yuuri, Yuri, and Victor are watching their s/o (but not very physically intimate yet) practice skating in her new performance outfit. At some point, she’s suddenly suddenly on her knees with her arms wrapped around her chest. They head over to see what’s wrong, and she, embarrassed, admits it was a wardrobe malfunction. Scenarios for how they handle the situation and help her, please.

terriblesportsimagines:

Thank you for the YoI ask!

Katsuki Yuuri

When you stopped skating, anxiety
spiked in his gut, especially when you fell to your knees, your arms over your
chest.  All the things that could cause such a posture flew through his
head and he was moving before he even realized what he was doing. 
“____-chan!” He called, his shoes sliding on the ice as he hurried across it.

“Are you okay?  Did you hurt
something?”

You looked up at him and your face was
red.  “Er…” You fretted, glancing down at her chest then up at him.

It took Yuuri an embarrassingly long
time to realize what had happened.  To be fair, he couldn’t really see
your chest, since you were hunched over and guarding it, but still. 
“Oh!”  His face flushed, embarrassed for himself more than you.  He
hated the idea of seeing you in a way you didn’t give him permission to. 
“Something happened to your costume?”

You nodded, swallowing heavy.  “I
think I might be wearing it wrong… and… well… You can see.”

“I can’t see!” Yuuri blurted, but he
was already shrugging out of his jacket.  “D-Don’t worry.  Put this
on…”

He set the jacket on your shoulders,
turning his eyes away as you pulled it on and held it closed over your
chest.  He helped you up, keeping his eyes trained away so you could zip
the jacket up and cover yourself properly.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, your hands
falling away from the zipper.

Yuuri smiled, relaxing as you
relaxed.  Once you were safely zipped, he took you by the arms and pulled
you against him gently, leaning to kiss your forehead.  “Better now than
in a competition?”

You laughed a little and cuddled into
him.  “True.”

Yuri Plisetsky

He saw it, way too clearly, and now he
couldn’t unsee it, no matter how hard he pressed the heels of his hands against
his eyes.  He didn’t have to see you to know that you were crouched in the
middle of the ice, protecting your chest.

He was well aware of what his face
looked like, the blasting heat was enough to tell him that.  And
against his better judgement and will, he just kept seeing that flash of skin
over and over again.  He didn’t want to be that guy – how was he
supposed to forget?  He was a man damn it!

“Yuri… could you, um, bring me
something to cover up… please?”  Your tone of voice told him that you knew
that he knew just went on, or at least that you could guess considering
how he was currently trying to scoop out his eyeballs from their sockets.

“Oh hell,” Yuri grumbled.  He
wanted to blame you – after all, it was your fault you’d picked a costume so
flimsy, and it was your fault you had all those lovely curve—no, no,
that was definitely not your fault.  It was his fault for not being
able to ignore them.

Finally removing the pressure from his
eyes, he blinked away the orange-yellow dots that floated across his vision,
and scanned the immediate area for your skating bag.  However, when he
couldn’t, realizing you’d locked it up in a locket, he swore quietly and bent
over his bag, rifling through it until he found a spare training shirt.

Yuri tried his damnedest not to look too
closely at you as he made his way across the ice.  He hated walking on ice
with shoes, he had to be way too careful he didn’t fall and break
something.  Plus it was completely unnatural.  When he reached you,
he carefully kept his head turned as he thrust the shirt at you. 
“Couldn’t find you bag, this will have to do,” he muttered sullenly.

You sighed in relief and took the
shirt, quickly pulling it over your head.  Once you were covered, you
pushed yourself back to your feet.  “It’s okay, you can look now.”

Yuri turned his head, but the sight
before him wasn’t much better, because seeing you in his shirt was almost too
much for his heart.  He looked away again, covering his mouth with the
back of his hand and wishing his face didn’t feel like it was on fire. 
“Get a better costume.”

You smiled, leaning up to press a kiss
to his cheek.  “Thanks, Yuri.”

Viktor Nikiforov

The second he saw you stop and curl in
on yourself, he was panicking.  “___!” He shouted, scrambling to get over
the board.  All sorts of fears flooded through him as he tried to get to
you – you’d twisted something, maybe broken a toe, or torn a ligament. 
Was your chest hurting?  You were holding it like there was something
wrong with your chest.  Were you having a heart attack?  You were
young, but it wasn’t unheard of – what if you had a disease he didn’t know
about?  A virus?  Were you dying?!

He almost fell several times in his
hurry.  Fear, icy and sharp, throttled him and he was on his knees,
sliding across the ice the second he was in range.  “Solnyshko,
where are you hurt?  Is it your chest?  Your arm?  Are you-”

Realizing that he was having a meltdown
from worry, you huffed, looking up at him pink dancing across your
cheeks.  “I’m not hurt,” you admitted, setting your teeth against the
embarrassment.  “It’s my costume… it… malfunctioned.”

It took him a solid five seconds to
realize what you were saying.  “Oh!” He exclaimed, blinking rapidly. 
Relief was his next prominent emotion, and happiness that you were still
healthy.

You were just about to ask him to find
something to cover you with when he started pulling his shirt over his
head.  “I’m sorry, if I had realized…” he bit his lip in worry as he held
out his shirt to you. 

He cursed himself for lack of
forethought.  Of course you weren’t hurt, he hadn’t seen anything catch…
if he’d been thinking he would have grabbed his jacket.  Not that he
minded giving you the shirt off his back, or was particularly shy about you
seeing him half-naked in the middle of the ice. 

You swam in his shirt, but it was
definitely better than letting anyone see the unfortunate accident with your
new costume.  Just to make sure you were okay, however, Viktor caught you
by the hips and pulled you into his space.  “You’re really not hurt?” He
said, nuzzling your temple.

He could feel the heat of your skin
against his lips, and it was in direct contrast to the iciness of your hands as
they splayed across his chest.  He shivered a bit, but liked having you in
his arms too much to move right at this moment. 

When you shook your head, he pressed a kiss
against your forehead.  “I’m glad.”