#stammiviktor

[stammiviktor]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Just a short lil ficlet <3

rating: T words: 856 relationship: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov characters: Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri, Phichit Chulanont additional tags: Developing Relationship, Ficlet, Canon Compliant, Summer of mutual pining, Touch Starved Victor Nikiforov summary: “Please, Yuuri.”

(my ko-fi)

[uniasus]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

fic rec! 4K post-canon ineffable husbands

Summary:  Crowley has a lifetime’s worth of unresolved issues, a fight with Aziraphale, and a close Encounter of the Divine kind. All in all, the move-in process could have gone smoother.

Comment: A lot about this fic won me over. There’s the great dialog of their fight itself, but also what might be my favorite “god talks to crowley” moment that I’ve read so far. And I think that’s because it doesn’t magically fix things. God knowing you, in this case, might actually make things a little bit worse (if you're a demon). And of course, the image of Aziraphale carrying a curled up crowley is just too good not to share. 

[yoishibarizine-blog]

Viktor leans forward, his forehead pressed flush up against the skin of Yuuri’s stomach. It’s heady and heavy, the citrus scent on his skin and the radiating heat. Viktor’s neck bows, his shoulders curling forward and he slides downward, slowly, until his forehead comes to rest at the hollow of Yuuri’s hipbone.

The towel, heavy with water and half-heartedly tied, slips from Yuuri’s waist and falls to the floor. Yuuri lets it. Viktor closes his eyes, brings his hands up to curl around the backs of Yuuri’s thighs like anchors. He breathes, deeply, his shaky exhale blooming against the curve of Yuuri’s hip.

“Vitya,” Yuuri whispers yet again, and there are fingers in his hair, cupping the back of his head.

“Please,” Viktor breathes, and it means nothing. It means everything. 

Yuuri’s hands are on Viktor’s now where they clutch at Yuuri’s sides; his fingers wrap circles around Viktor’s wrists and coax gently upward, upward, above Viktor’s bowed head to the toned skin at Yuuri’s stomach. There they meet, Viktor’s hands joined—held, cradled—up together in supplication for something he hadn’t realized he needed but— 

Yuuri knows. Yuuri always knows. He coaxes Viktor, hands gentle and firm and joined between them, up off of the bed. Viktor stands, unfurling into his full height, and allows himself to look down into Yuuri’s eyes. It’s very nearly overwhelming, for a moment—the intensity, the determination, the careful caring love that lives there. It could knock him off his feet. 

“Let me take care of you, Vitya?”

FIC: the soft animal of your body

stammiviktor | Writer

Hi everyone, I'm Allison! I'm super excited to be contributing to this project, which features so many amazing creators and raises money for a great cause. I love writing for Yuuri and Viktor because their love for one another comes so easily that it basically writes itself. I love trying to capture the depth of their relationship, especially as they each get to know one other, and who they are as a pair. That's my goal for my Rope Burn piece and I'm really excited to share it with all of you! 

AO3: stammiviktor Tumblr: @stammiviktor

[catalists]

SO this is technically a nearly 700 word excerpt (instead of 500 or less, sorrynotsorry) and there's no way in hell it's fitting in this askbox, but : DVD-style commentary of the part in 'go forward slowly' that starts with "When he opens the door, Viktor stands there in the hallway" to "'...when I told him that you did not know.'" Please I will give you my firstborn.

[This is for this ask meme. If you want DVD-style commentary on a section of one of my fics, send me a section!]

YOU’RE RIGHT THIS IS A LOT OF WORDS ALLISON

luckily I love you

I’m going to take this in a couple sections, I think, so to start with:

from go forward slowly:

When he opens the door, Viktor stands there in the hallway. He wears a t-shirt and dark jeans, well-fitted. He thinks Viktor must have once dressed like Yura, in the casual teenage blur of horrible trends, but he can’t conjure an image. He is not sure when Viktor learned to clothe himself with such composure. It is certainly not Yakov who taught him.

Viktor has been putting pins in his hair at the rink, Yakov realizes, because he has taken them out now and the strands hang loose around his face. His bangs fall in his eyes; the longest ends curve around his chin. Yakov has never seen his hair like this, an in-between length. Viktor’s hair was already to his elbows when Yakov first met him, and when he’d cut it he’d chopped it all off at once and never looked back.

Like this, Yakov thinks with a start, he looks a bit like Yura. There is nothing of Yura in the serene unreadability of his expression, though. Whatever had cracked open and spilled out earlier is gone now, back underneath the surface.

There are moments where Yakov thinks he might see a flash of it, a dark shape under the water, and then he blinks and it vanishes.

“We should talk,” Viktor says steadily, not breaking eye contact.

“Yes,” Yakov says, and swings open the door to let him in.

I think I’m going to start with Viktor here, because in some ways his emotions are a lot more straightforward than Yakov’s: this is a lot of bravery. Viktor tends to prevaricate, to smile and pretend everything’s fine. We see that when he’s upset, when he’s angry, when he’s both, and actually showing his emotions at the rink just before this was a lapse in composure. So it’s very much a show of courage for him to come here and face this rather than pretending it never happened.

A lot of what Yakov’s seeing in Viktor, in the doorway here, is looking for that lapse in composure. He’s known Viktor for a long time, and believes that he sees through Viktor’s armor better than most, so to have realized something he’s been missing for years is making him reevaluate. He’s thinking about how Viktor dresses, about when he started doing that, about when Yakov stopped being able to see through his mask.

And then there is the one thing that has legitimately changed recently: Viktor’s been letting his hair grow out again, and something feels transitional about it. But what Yakov’s learning here is that what is changing about Viktor is not the damage he’s suffered, it’s his willingness to let people know and trust that they will love him anyway. Which brings us into the next section:

It is not the same apartment where Yakov once half-raised Viktor. Both he and Lilia had moved after the divorce, and this uneasy arrangement back together is only an odd echo of what was once their home. Viktor, Yakov realizes with a start, has no childhood homes to return to—his own parents never married, his mother and stepmother divorced and moved away, and then Yakov and Lilia had done no better.

Yakov has been inside Viktor’s apartment before. It was tasteful and clean and oddly empty. Perhaps it now looks different. At the very least, it is now home to two people instead of one. Yakov lived in an apartment on his own after he retired and it was an ugly thing, a bachelor’s apartment, haphazard and full of the useless trappings of his former life. Then he had married Lilia and they had begun to fill it with things and it had felt like a home, somehow. He never pinned down exactly what had made it change.

Before Yakov can think of a way to begin the conversation, Viktor does it, almost as soon as the door is shut behind him. “I don’t know why Yura wanted so badly to tell you,” Viktor says, crossing his arms. He stands there in the entry for a moment in that position and then begins to pace. “It was truly a long time ago.”

Yakov watches him. “Sit down.”

Viktor stops in his tracks, as though he’s only just realized that he’s pacing back and forth. He sits on the couch and Yakov sits as well, a careful distance apart. Viktor is fidgety, his hands going up to play with his hair. He used to chew on the ends, Yakov remembers in a flash. Lilia had once offhandedly threatened to cut it if he didn’t stop that right now, and Viktor had physically frozen for a moment as he tried to judge whether she meant it. Then he’d laughed and waved it off.

But Yakov can’t quite remember if he ever caught him chewing his hair again.

This whole section is in some way about having a place to go back to, and people to fall back on. For a long time, Viktor hasn’t. Unlike Yuuri, Viktor has no way to return home, and part of standing in this apartment means, for Viktor, looking at the way Yakov and Lilia’s relationship fell apart, looking at all the places and relationships he should have trusted but simply no longer exist.

Yakov is thinking about this more than Viktor in this moment–Viktor is very preoccupied with what to say and how to say it and whether it’s possible to downplay this (it was a long time ago) and it’s Yakov who is seeing this in stereo. Yakov is starting to realize that Viktor has spent a long time loving people and still not trusting that they won’t hurt him.

But Viktor has decided to come here and have this conversation, and Yakov is hoping that maybe this means that maybe Viktor has built a home for himself in spite of everything.

“It was a long time ago,” Viktor repeats, but something about the way he says it makes it seem like it wasn’t really, in the same sense that the couch is still new, will still be new half a decade on. Some things never become familiar. “That was a lie, though. I do know why Yura wanted to tell you. He was—he trusts you.”

“Does he,” Yakov says.

“Yes,” Viktor says. “I think he and I—well, we are alike in some ways, so maybe we understand each other a little. But he thinks you will do what is best for him. So I think it felt counterfactual to that, when I told him that you did not know.”

Yakov thinks quite a bit in this story about how Viktor and Yura are alike and different, and here is a way they are alike: they both have difficulty trusting people. Viktor was, for obvious reasons, angry at Yuri, but ultimately he understands him: they both have relied on Yakov as a coach and as a father figure, and Yuri has decided to trust Yakov and Viktor has decided to not. 

And this is shattering to Yuri’s worldview, this idea that he could be wrong about who to trust. This isn’t about being right for the sake of being right, which Viktor would find unforgivable here. This is about being right for the sake of self-preservation, about building a support system and then doubting that you can rely on it.

And Viktor, who has felt this same doubt to the point of keeping a terrible secret for thirteen years, understands why Yuri needs him to take this leap of faith. It’s something that scares him, of course–I’ve already said it but it bears repeating, how much courage it has taken for Viktor to be here. But as he says to Yura later, he does, ultimately, feel lighter for it.

[under-your-ribs]

Sitting there on Yuuri’s bed, his head held in Yuuri’s palm and Yuuri’s words echoing through his ears, Viktor feels utterly transparent, as if his skin were made of parchment and his swelling, throbbing heart on display for all to see. It’s good though, somehow, because he feels seen—not just as the man he is now, but every iteration of himself, every Viktor Nikiforov that existed from now back to the moment he stepped into the spotlight as a teenager. The fifteen year old child, the twenty year old boy, the twenty five year old man, the Viktor he is now and every version in between—in that moment they are all understood and loved in a way Viktor never could have imagined.

Yuri!!! On Ice

Pairing: Victor/Yuuri

Author: stammiviktor

Genre:  Romance, Fluff, Canon universe, Hurt/Comfort, Family

Rating: PG

Oneshot

Summary: After decades of wandering, Viktor finds a home in the Katsuki family.

Admin Note: This is so soft and pure and beautiful that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to read it without crying my eyes out. I think my heart melted a little bit.

[harocat]

mon-petit-pois THANK YOU OMG this is so niceeeeeeeee -stammiviktor on main

NP! It’s completely lovely and I can’t wait for the last part. ❤️❤️