(Fill for a kink meme prompt that requested 40-ish Victor/Canon Age Yuuri.)
Victor finds Yuuri much later in his life - he falls in love just the same.
17 days ago
He's sitting in a car with all of his belongings in the back seat and his hands wrapped around the steering wheel, admitting to himself that a stupid, dizzy firework of a one-night-stand with a man he'd barely known is one of the only bright memories he has right now.
[In which Enjolras and Grantaire make some music, make some terrible decisions, and make a habit out of doing everything in the wrong order.]
7 weeks ago
In the economy of chess, victory is not about numbers, but about space. You don't lose when you have the lowest number of pieces. You lose when you have nowhere left to run.
Laurent's thoughts, from Captive Prince to Kings Rising.
8 weeks ago
Stiles hasn't seen or heard from Derek in ten years. It's a bit of a surprise to find out about Derek's return to Beacon Hills through Tinder.
9 weeks ago
"You're certainly fast-tracking through the ranks, Commander Shafer," said Commander Woodsinger. "Shall I bring you the maps so you can plan the protection detail for our voyage back? I do hope the bed is comfortable, by the way."
10 weeks ago
It’s just…does Viktor not get bored with doing it the same way every night? Doesn’t he want to spice things up? Is Yuuri being unreasonable? He’s pretty sure that if Viktor told him his performance in bed was unsatisfying his soul would flee his body for a more merciful plane of existence, but…Viktor is thicker-skinned than he is.
And so here they are. Viktor’s bed is wide and soft, and Yuuri is lying there with wet hair and ratty boxers while Viktor absently trails kisses over his shoulder. It’s nice. It’s soft. It’s good. Viktor’s headboard is enormous and Yuuri keeps thinking about Viktor’s wrists bound to it, black rope over white skin. Fuck. He should say something.
10 weeks ago
Yuuri Katsuki has his first and only breakup, and reacts the only way he knows how: board a starship and live out the rest of his life in outer space, millions of light years from the home planet he loves.
Suffice to say, it doesn't work.
10 weeks ago
Peter Grant is a contestant on The Great British Bake Off 2016, Thomas Nightingale is its famously stoic, poker-faced judge. The nation’s running commentary is their background soundtrack as they flirt onscreen. It’s gonna be a very long ten weeks.
10 weeks ago
“Let me see?” Carla leaned over his arm to look at his phone. “Who’s that in your wallpaper? Isn’t that the guy you were getting all those pictures of?”
Yuuri sucked in a breath, fully prepared to undergo the humiliation of having to explain who Viktor Nikiforov was and fully aware that every time he talked about Viktor, he gave people the impression that there was something definitely wrong with him.
“Who is he, a friend?” Carla nudged him in the side with her elbow. Yuuri moved away. “Your boyfriend?”
“Well—” How to explain, Yuuri thought, that he was a Viktor Nikiforov stan and that photographs of Viktor cuddling his poodle always made him smile, without looking creepy? “He’s, uh…”
“Oh my god,” Carla said. Her mouth dropped open. “You have a boyfriend. Is that why you keep turning down dates? You should have said! And here I am hitting on you like an idiot. Oh, man, James is going to die, he’s been trying to get you to have dinner with him for like two semesters, he thought he was wearing you down! Yuuri. You are such a heartbreaker.”
11 weeks ago
While Victor wanders off to rummage in the bathroom for the designated makeup towel, because of course they have those, Yuuri starts putting everything away. Mila can't imagine doing this all on her own. Foundation, setting powder, bronzer—all of this stuff. He leaves a tube of lipstick and a lip liner pencil out on the counter.
"Did you forget those?" she says when Yuuri starts closing up the train case.
"Ah," Yuuri says. "No, they're mine. I wear them sometimes. At home."
Mila says, "Can I put them on you?"
11 weeks ago
Three weeks earlier, during a Skype session with Phichit equally fuelled by Victor’s hideously expensive vodka and Yuuri’s crushing loneliness at Victor being away for more than twelve hours, Yuuri decided he was going to give Victor the best Christmas/Birthday of his life. With sex coupons.
(“This is the best idea you’ve ever had,” Phichit said.
“I,” Yuuri slurred, with all the certainty of a drunk man pawning off his actions on the victim of his sober self, “am a genius. Someone give me a Nobel Peace Prize. Homemade sex coupons will save the world.”
“Absolutely.” Phichit said thousands of miles away in a different timezone watching Yuuri make five different coupons for “whatever you want to do with my feet.” “Someone give this man yet another gold medal.” )
In the end, it was Sober Yuuri that made the terrible miscalculation of using the same adorable poodle wrapping paper for Yuri and Victor’s gifts. Presently he’s moved on from googling “how to build a time machine” to “demon pacts????? Can I make one?????”
Yuuri accidentally mixes up Victor and Yurio's gifts. It goes about as well as you'd expect.
11 weeks ago
“We live in a blue planet that circles around a ball of fire next to a moon that moves the sea, and you don’t believe in miracles?”
After an academic career at MIT and Oxford, Yuuri Katsuki eschews job offers at places like NASA and CERN to go work at the Very Large Array in what Phichit Chulanont lovingly calls The Actual Middle of Nowhere, New Mexico, monitoring radio frequencies from light-years away. He's loved the stars for as long as he can remember, and the universe feels so big sometimes that Yuuri is sure it would be a cruel mistake for humans to be all alone.
Enter the latest scientist to join the staff of the VLA, enigmatic Russian genius Victor Nikiforov, around whom Yuuri’s entire universe seems to bend to make room, and the strange, recurring dreams Yuuri keeps having, where something like love carries him across the stars.
Does love travel faster than light? Do souls?
“The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.”
11 weeks ago
It’s an embarrassing cliché, I know, but there was an actual basket, made of what looked to be actual wicker, actually sitting there. It was oval and large and had spaces for handholds on either end; for a minute, I thought it was full of laundry, and my mind spun an image of a ghost laundress. Then the small hand emerged from the basket, waved around for a minute, and smacked down again.
In one universe, Viktor asks Yuuri to sleep with him on his first night in Hasetsu and gets rejected.
In another, he doesn't. This happens instead.
"Look, it's a shitty world for Omegas, kid. I'm not going to pretend it's not. You can either make the best of it or--" she waves her hand, beer sloshing in the bottle "--give up on it. That's the one thing you have a choice in."
Yuuri realizes that he'll sabotage Victor's career if he asks him to coach and compete at the same time. This leads to a standoff of ultimatums over who will skate and who won't.
A standoff that ends with Victor in St Petersburg and Yuuri half a world away.
In which Yuuri needs to learn to listen and Victor needs to learn to speak.
There’s only one downside to being in an established relationship with Yuuri Katsuki - given his incredible stamina, it’s impossible to have a quickie with him.
Or so Victor thought, until…
Five times Katsuki Yuuri did something to make Viktor Nikiforov fall a little more in love, and one time Viktor returned the favor.
(With art by the lovely Riki!)
"It's almost like a marriage proposal," Viktoria says, and the thing is—the thing is, if Viktoria wanted it to be, Yuri would make it one. If Viktoria had asked, "Is that a marriage proposal?" Yuri would have unhesitatingly said yes. She would have lowered herself onto a knee before Viktoria in Fukuoka Airport, the officially certified least romantic place in the world, and said Viktoria Konstantinovna Nikiforova, please—please—
(Yuri doesn't know if Viktoria will stay. She wants her to. She wants her to want to. But she doesn't want to be the only thing holding Viktoria here. Life for Yuri Katsuki is, as always, Hard.)
“Do you wish it was me, Yuuri? Using that toy on you?”
“You are jealous,” Yuuri says grinning down at him.
“I’m jealous of a toy,” Viktor agrees, sounding distraught. “How you look right now — I like being the one to make you look like that.”
“You are,” Yuuri assures him. “I have you right where I want you, Vitya.”
“I could be the one filling you up. Yuuri,” Viktor says, as Yuuri turns the vibration up another level and keens. “Yuuri, do you fantasize about me inside you?”
Yuuri ties Viktor up and wants him to watch.
Five times Laurent allowed Damen to share his heat with him (and one time he was absolutely adamant that that wasn’t going to happen ever again).
Part of The Veretian Flytrap: http://archiveofourown.org/series/701433
Viktor looks up finally and time slows for a minute, the breath leaving his body as his eyes land on Yuuri. He’s wearing Viktor’s Team Russia jacket, the too-long sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the front hanging open and unzipped over his bare torso. Underneath that, he has on a pair of tight athletic shorts that come partway down his thighs, clinging to the muscle, not hiding anything. And—
He’s wearing a pair of high heels, black stilettos with pointy toes and red soles, and Viktor stares as Yuuri crosses into the kitchen, walking fluidly, gracefully, as though he wears these shoes every day of his life.
Yuuri surprises Viktor.
Damianos bows and then says, “Auguste!” before pulling Auguste into a back-slapping hug. He kisses Céleste’s hand next. When he gets to Laurent he gives a short bow, eyes not leaving Laurent’s face. “Laurent,” he says. His accent is perfect.
“No hug for me?” Laurent says.
Damianos takes his hand and pulls him forward. There’s no back-slapping, and it’s just Laurent’s imagination that Damianos holds on for a bit longer than appropriate.
When he steps back, Laurent gestures to Justine. “My fiancée, Justine of Patras.”
She courtesies. Damianos kisses her hand as well.
The morning after the banquet, Yuuri wakes up to a hangover, a few fuzzy memories of the previous night and the realization that he sent some guy dickpics last night...and had gotten one back.
Cyrillic guy seemed nice. Friendly. Somebody he might have wanted to hang out with, if things had been different.
Yuuri hoped he hadn't pretended the guy was Victor Nikiforov or something stupid like that. When he got that drunk, all bets were off.
It’s Phichit’s fault.
It’s always Phichit’s fault.
(Or: A friendship told through three hamsters, a rice cooker, and the resurrected trade-and-barter system.)
Stiles' work life is pretty great, from the nice cubicle he sits in, the friends he gets to have as coworkers, and all the free snacks he gets to eat during meetings. And then financial consultant Peter Hale shows up.
DS Peter Grant, seconded to Organised Crime, is sent to keep an eye on two persons of interest. Questions are asked. Answers are mostly ignored.
The remix: after The Spoils, where he and Yuuri hook up at the Sochi banquet, Chris doesn't go back to his room alone.
He goes to Victor's room instead.
Zach turns forty and his world changes. Or, maybe, it circles back to where it was always meant to be.
Zach spots him as soon as he steps in the cafe; sitting with his back to the wall, a mug of coffee that Zach knows has been refilled at least twice by the way Chris’ leg is slightly jittery, and a moleskine on the table, hand moving in a steady rhythm as he scribbles something down.
“Hi,” Zach says once he’s by the table, casting a shadow over Chris. He tries not to think about the symbolism in that.
And now here Thomas is, in Peter and Beverley's house more nights than not, with a change of clothes he keeps in the dresser, on the regular rota for picking and dropping Laura off when needed, his own spot on their couch and his own bed in their home and it's wonderful, Thomas wouldn't give it up for anything, but--it's certainly unusual.
(Companion fic to sixthlight's excellent places to be, written from Nightingale's POV.)
Sixteen-year-old Chihoko Sato is at Four Continents almost by accident, so the fact that Victor Nikiforov is headed straight towards her is probably also an accident, right?
Victor has a thing for every new bit of Yuuri he sees.
(It’s odd, when he thinks about it, how awkward he has historically been in everyday life in contrast with the way stepping onto the ice feels like fitting into a disguise, an alternate persona where he’s confident, alluring, captivating. Yuuri used to feel so invisible; Victor has made him blossom into someone present.)
In 1991, the Soviet Union collapses. In 1989, the Berlin wall falls. In 1987, Viktor Nikiforov, iconic figure skater and darling of the USSR, defects to the United States. In 1986, Yuuri Katsuki falls in love.
“... Did you know you still give me boners?” Yuri asks seriously. Otabek is startled into an incredulous snort. “Don’t laugh, you asshole! It’s tragic and inconvenient and probably going to last until we’re old and can’t get it up anymore.”
“I’m touched,” Otabek replies tonelessly. “You have such a way with words.”
“Yeah, I know.” Yuri grins, all sharp teeth. “Feel free to swoon a little closer into my arms. And on top of my crotch?”
“Fuck off.” Yuri can hear Otabek’s grudging smile, even with his back turned.
At first, Potya believes he’s going to the veterinarian. This means a great deal of cursing from Yuri, as he tries to unsuccessfully lure Potya into the pet carrier. But as in all things, his human wins, and Yuri stalks out the door with carrier in hand, only twenty minutes late. Potya accepts his fate.
Soon, he realizes greater horrors are in store for him: Yuri’s dropped him off with the dopey poodle couple, the snuggly and curly bastards.
No one knows the truth about the strange, well-paying man who comes into the bar three times a week and only talks about his husband. But everyone has their theories.
'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.
Victor posts a photo of Yuuri on instagram without realizing that it’s somewhat suggestive.
A thirsty skating fandom collectively loses their shit.
When a magic user's craft fully matures it manifests in the form of a spirit guardian taking the shape of a magical creature. Mages and elves who bear these familiars spend a year traveling through four kingdoms, where they present them to each of the high courts of the aes sidhe throughout the year's festivals. Both Viktor and Yuuri have their reasons for hiding the full extent of their gifts -- Viktor's been hurt before, when his own powers were used against him; Yuuri's been warned that everyone will abuse his gift. The world they live in is one burdened with legacy and expectation; wars fought long ago that linger and divide.
So what will happen when Viktor's younger brother, Yuri, comes of age and must travel the wheel, and in doing so, makes two bright stars finally cross?
If pressed, later, she’d say it was exhaustion that caused her to forget who she was talking to, and it was that same exhaustion which prevented her from foreseeing the inevitable fall-out of telling James Potter, “Ugh, no thanks, I hate flying.”
Yuri has never cared about anything as much as he cares about skating. Until, one day, that changes.
Or, Viktor falls in love with Yuuri, Yuuri falls in love with Viktor, Yuri falls in love Yuuri, Otabek falls in love with Yuri, and somehow everything turns out okay.
Viktor is moving backwards through time, trying to go back to when everything was easy and Yuuri is moving forwards, trying to keep everyone happy, even if it means he's unhappy. They're going to get their happy ending, they just need to get to the right time and place.
Wherein Viktor and Yuuri meet in America, five years before they were meant to, right as Viktor begins his legend and right before Yuuri is anything.
Yuri and his passions. Eventual slash, once they've grown up a little more.
Where Yuuri remembers the banquet, Viktor forgets, and Yakov Feltsman has his own plans.
“I’ve been made aware of your recent break with Celestino Cialdini, and would like to offer you a trial period where you train under me, in St. Petersburg. There are only three conditions: you will board with another one of my students, you will take ballet with Madame Baranovskaya, and you will help me coach Yuri Plisetsky, who refuses to listen to my criticisms of his spins.” Yakov nods at this point, leans forwards and looks Yuuri in the eye. “I will charge no coaching fees.” With a deal like that, even if it means he has to face Viktor again, Yuuri has no choice but to agree.
Victor is a writer pretending to be on a break; Yuuri is a pianist pretending to not be on a break.
They meet, somehow, in the backwaters of Saga Prefecture, Japan.
FOR THE RECORD
by Viktor Nikiforov
What it takes to craft an Olympic Champion, and what it takes to be one.
Or: Viktor Nikiforov, sports journalist and retired figure skater, interviews Olympic Champion Yuuri Katsuki for an exclusive piece.
"I believe…" Yuuri says, pensive. "I believe that when you're connected to another person so closely that you share a soul, it's stupid to think that you wouldn't feel it. How can you not recognize part of yourself when they're standing right in front of you?"
"That's…I…yes." Viktor tries to untie his tongue, mouth suddenly arid. "You—I think you would know, yes."
Yuuri skates onto the ice and Viktor's soul screams after him, Do you know? Can you see me? I'm here, I'm here.
“We both remember what happened the last time we were in the garden,” said Laurent.
The encounter with Ancel had been the furthest thing from Damen’s mind, but it came to the forefront with sudden force.
“I could do that again,” said Laurent.
Viktor and Yuuri move to St. Petersburg and can’t keep their hands off each other.
The water and the warmth and the closeness is so much, and Viktor wants to be so good for him, give him everything, gather the stars, pluck the moon from the sky for him. In lieu of that, however, he’ll do what he can, here, just the two of them. Because Yuuri is everything, the only thing in the world that matters, the only thing that Viktor cares about so much he would give up just about everything else if it only meant Yuuri, Yuuri.
There’s a word for this, Viktor thinks, sinking to his knees, trailing his hands down Yuuri’s slick sides, all lean muscle, circling his slim waist, coming to rest atop his hipbones.
The year is 1942, and Europe is at war. Captain Victor Nikiforov, an intelligence operative for the NKVD, has been trapped in Berlin by the German invasion of the USSR. Posing as a Nazi industrialist, his days are spent charming information out of Axis diplomats to try and keep the Red Army fighting another day.
Yuuri Katsuki, a foreign-educated bureaucrat in the Japanese Embassy, has secrets of his own concealed beneath his unremarkable demeanour. When he uncovers Victor’s real identity, it will alter the course of both of their lives forever.
Yuuri thinks about kissing Victor again and starting over from square one. But Yuuri knows that Victor’s stamina isn’t as robust as Yuuri’s own, and he doesn’t quite feel bold enough to make demands while in Victor’s bed. But now that Yuuri is getting semi-regular sex, he finds that he really can’t stop thinking about it most of the time. It is, frankly, rather embarrassing. But also exhilarating to think that, somehow, Victor wants him. That, somehow, Victor is just as enthusiastic about sleeping with Yuuri, despite Yuuri’s complete lack of experience.
Or: that one time Yuuri discovered that he really likes Victor coming on him and doesn't know how to tell him.
“The Yuuri that comes out of you when you skate.” Victor’s lips quirk. “That Yuuri makes me shiver.”
(Yuuri channels his eros character to seduce Victor.)
‘You slept with Lilia Baranovskaya.’
Chris turns, surprised. Théo has stopped, halfway through the door of Chris’ apartment, and is staring at him. He has that funny closed-off look on his face again.
‘I did, yes,’ Chris says, the back of his neck prickling. They don’t... He’s never had a permission-seeking arrangement with Théo, but he suddenly feels like he should have, this time.
[Part of the 'The Patron Saint of Communicating Like A Fucking Adult' series: http://archiveofourown.org/series/650408]
They walk back to the hotel once Yuuri has changed back into regular clothes and does his second round of interviews. He’s still quiet, but his eyes are burning instead of sparkling. He still holds Victor’s hand, but he walks half a step ahead of him, and Victor lets himself be led. There are a couple other skaters around - some stayed to shower, but most have been gone for half an hour or more - but Yuuri pays no attention to them. His gaze is on the building they’re staying at, and he barely says a word until they get there and then, when the elevator doors close, he hits the button for their floor and then shoves Victor against the wall.
“Oh,” Victor says.
The aftermath of Yuuri's Four Continents skate.
Yuri Plisetsky at seventeen is a mess: all he did the whole of last season was lose, lose, lose, his dick has gone rogue, and he hates every fucking second of it.
So he skates it out.
"You toy with me."
"No," Damen said, humour draining out of his voice. He crawled up Laurent's body and searched his face: a confused mix of frustration and arousal. "I want to give you pleasure."
"You--are," Laurent gritted. He pushed his fingers through his sweat-damp hair, agitated. "And then you stop."
Despite the fact they've been competing in the same competitions for years, Victor Nikiforov doesn't meet Katsuki Yuuri until the Sochi Grand Prix Final. On the other hand, there's a boy who's been watching him for years and Victor's desperate to know his name.
In which Victor pines, everybody drinks too much, and Yakov deserves a sainthood for putting up with these idiots. Basically, it's a decade's worth of near misses, misunderstandings, and pure obliviousness.
"They don't want it to be real," Laurent says. He touches lightly, with his fingertips, where he's written LOVE WINS. "They want us to sell them a fantasy, and they want just enough reality that they can pretend it might happen to them, one day."
“But what if he’s not interested?” Peter asked.
Beverley groaned. “I cannot emphasize enough how that’s not my fucking problem.”
Bev looked at me, then leaned down further, and said something very quietly in Nightingale’s ear. I’m always going to remember his expression as she spoke. He’s never actually told me what she said. Neither has she.
I’ve got some pretty solid conjectures, though.
Peter and Nightingale have to get married for MAGIC CEREMONY REASONS. People have opinions about this.
Phichit knows there are parts of you that you bury, fears you don’t acknowledge until you hit the right combination of circumstances. Like slightly buzzed and stuck in a traffic jam with the world’s most famous figure skater, apparently.
Probationary Constable Peter Grant met me for the first time when I walked up to him by the portico of the Actors' Church on a freezing winter night and said, "Hello. What are you up to?" However, I first met Detective Sergeant Peter Grant when he jogged up to my doorstep on a mild autumn afternoon and said, "There you are, sir. It is you, isn't it?"
The court treated it like a joke. His uncle told him it was a weakness. Laurent chose to listen to what Auguste had said it could be: an advantage.
Part of The Veretian Flytrap: http://archiveofourown.org/series/701433
‘Yakov,’ Yakov says, ‘does not want to know if anyone is betting on their own performance. That would be very unprofessional.’
Viktor smiles at him, sunnily. ‘Then we’re definitely not doing that,’ he says. And then, when Yakov has banished both of them in the direction of the changing rooms, he leans close enough to say, in Yuri’s ear, ‘He didn’t say I couldn’t bet on your lutz.’
‘What, so if I outdo you, you win, and if you outdo me, I win?’ Yuri asks.
‘Something like that, yeah,’ Viktor says, and wraps one arm around Yuri’s waist.
Or: the mostly-porn coda to Set My Mind At Ease
‘Hey,’ Yuri says, bumping up against Viktor. Viktor thinks that one might be on purpose, or maybe Yuri really is so tired he can’t walk straight. ‘You’re supposed to kiss me.’
‘Sorry,’ Viktor says, ‘I thought you were too tired.’
‘You thought wrong,’ Yuri says, and plants his feet squarely on the floor so that Viktor has to stop or leave him behind. Having successfully interrupted Viktor’s efforts to get them out of the airport, he grabs Viktor by the shirt and pulls him in, and Viktor really can’t complain about being obstructed by determined kissing.
Or: a longfic study in why dating someone in your highly competitive field is not, perhaps, the wisest of ideas.
Victor doesn’t want to intrude on the scene. He wants to observe. He wants, now that he thinks about it, to see how far they’ll go. He wants to watch Yuuri rendered incoherent with pleasure at Chris’s touch. He wants to see Yuuri admired and treasured and adored—and he wants to be, after all that, the person that Yuuri chooses in the end.
favourites ‧ otps ‧ • • • ‧ fandoms ‧ ships ‧ genres ‧ au types ‧ tropes ‧ ratings ‧ lengths ‧ websites ‧ writers ‧ collections ‧ • • ‧ hp ‧ merlin ‧ star trek ‧ sga ‧ inception ‧ xmfc ‧ avengers ‧ suits ‧ teen wolf ‧ yoi