katsuki yuuri/victor nikiforov, royal au, magic au, slow burn
chapter 1/?: prologue | 1.6k words
summary:
“My name is Viktor, by the way.”
The prince’s voice cuts through the silence and prompts Yuuri to look up. If the situation had been any different, he might have found humor in such an unnecessary introduction.
“I know.”
༻❁༺
Yuuri Katsuki, a master of the magical art of healing, moves from Nippona to Rosvia on a teaching contract. He lives and works in the royal palace, spending the majority of his time taking patients and directing the medical staff on how to enhance their healing abilities. While there, he ends up crossing paths with Viktor Nikiforov, the silver-haired Crown Prince, and an unexpected friendship blossoms between them.
When a close friend of the Nikiforov family begins experiencing unusual physical ailments, Yuuri attempts to use his magic to identify the problem. However, he is perplexed by what he finds. Yuuri becomes determined to figure out this mystery, and Viktor is eager to help. As they navigate this in addition to their deepening relationship, they realize that there is far more to the situation than what meets the eye.
A historical au set in the Edo period of Japan. Yuuri is a high-ranking courtesan (basically a prostitute) that Viktor meets while on a political trip to Japan. Very well-written and beautifully traumatic. I am a massive sucker for well-written historical aus, and from what I can tell, it's pretty accurate, and even if it wasn't, it still makes you feel the absolute horror of Yuuri's situation. This fic will put you through the emotional fucking wringer, but the ending is well-worth it.
Take Strength by stammiviktor
A post-canon fic about Yuuri and Viktor adopting a son. Tooth-rottingly sweet and domestic. We desperately need more kidfics in this fandom.
Polyglot Variations by spoken
A sort of character-study of Viktor and his life examined through the lens of his multilingualism. This is legit one of my favorite fanfics ever. This is literally so good and realistic that it feels like canon. It should be. Just. Fucking read it.
hood & glove by Fahye and hawberries
Otayuri fantasy au, where Yuri is a fairy and needs Otabek's help with the plot. I love Otayuri, but most of the fics I find of them aren't really up to my tastes, but this is really good, even if it is short. Fantasy aus don't tend to be my cup of tea, but if you like fantasy aus, you'll like this one.
he's my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds by wingchestr
Some of the best fics in the yoi fandom are the ones that are both extremely fluffy and extremely smutty. This is one of them. Just a cute domestic fic about Viktor and Yuuri moving to Russia with a LOT of smut. Like, it's basically just 30k of well-written smut and couple bonding, and it's amazing.
Had the honor of being commissioned by @oh--you--pretty--things to draw the final scene of Reputation. I really recommend it. The narrative voice is truly a delight to read and the fic is so engaging, I couldn't put it down even though I'm not in the fandom. (If you haven't read it yet you really should)
Title: Reputation
Rating: T
Word Count: 8,945
Summary: Yuri has been a Quidditch player since age eleven, it's always been his passion, made even stronger by his pining for the star of Durmstrang's team, Viktor Nikiforov, he always aspired to being a great Seeker, but it's those aspirations and ambitions that wound up getting him into trouble, and now his reputation.... well, it could use some work
the full piece written for @yoimagiczine, you can also find it on ao3.
On the birth and lives of soulmates.
Yuuri and Victor meet for the first time as children in times none of us can think back to; day and night, light and darkness, you'd think the meeting nothing special. Wrong.
aka Yuuri and Victor invent the concept of soulmates and fill the night sky with their every touch.
(Once upon a time.)
Cold days like this one chill Yuuri to the bone; tea and blankets don’t provide enough warmth, chased away by the longing whistle of the wind and the clatter of tree branches shooing it away. The thin walls of his family’s tiny wooden house forget how to be a shelter on days like this. But despite this, despite the chill in his limbs and the mist of his breath, Yuuri looks forward to these days; only on days like these does the boy appear.
The unnamed boy; a boy with a lantern and a thick scarf around his neck, and a snowy avalanche of hair. The lost boy, or the searching boy, Yuuri has no idea who he is.
The wind promises another blizzard today, and Yuuri hopes that this time he’ll get to invite the boy inside. On cold days like this one, nobody will say no to a cup of hot tea.
The clock strikes 6pm, Yuuri presses his forehead against the cold window, squints his eyes and wishes he could urge the darkness outside to dissipate and clear out till he can see better—when the boy appears.
As always, he's surrounded by a beam of cold, white light, as though he's the moon itself, bathed in such celestial presence that he can't be a mortal. Even mortals suffer from sadness, though, and the boy's light seems dimmer tonight, his movements slower and not as excited as Yuuri knows them to be. His lantern flickers in the night among the snowflakes falling around him but he pays them not a single glance. From where Yuuri sits, they look like pellets or darts, so unforgiving in their shooting at the boy.
Normally, the boy dances whenever he appears; he doesn't walk but rather flows just an inch or so above the ground, jumps into the air and turns and turns and turns and turns—but not today. Something's off about him today.
Today, he shuffles his feet through the snow with each step. The lantern he usually holds in front of him at an arm's length is nearly dragged behind now. His feet—Yuuri notices with a soft, disappointed 'oh'—are firmly planted on the ground.
Suddenly, the boy freezes and turns—and looks straight at Yuuri.
(If it weren't for the snowflakes still falling to the ground, Yuuri would swear that time has frozen still.)
The boy's lantern quivers suddenly, and, just like that, the connection between him and Yuuri is broken. The cold light dims even more, then shines brightly, only to flicker one last time. The boy looks at it with surprise, shakes it once, twice, three times—before the light of it dies completely.
“No!” Yuuri calls. The next thing he knows, he has his coat on and winter boots on his feet and he's out of the house, running through the snow.
The night is dark, much darker than ever before, and cold, so very cold... Much too cold and dangerous for another child to trudge through. That's the only thing on Yuuri's mind as he holds the hood of his jacket tight around his head and blindly tries to reach the spot he's seen the boy in before the world outside went black. He opens his mouth and takes a breath to call him, only to remember that he doesn't know his name. He knows nothing about the boy. What he does know, though, is that nobody should be out here alone.
“Go back in!” shouts out a panicked voice. But Yuuri doesn't listen; he steers towards the voice and runs, fighting against the snow. It seems like an eternity has passed until he's close enough to feel the boy's presence. The darkness is too thick to see him. “Go back, I've got this!”
“What happened?” Yuuri asks, squinting hard in the direction the voice comes from. Blue flashes for a split second before it disappears again. “What's wrong with your lantern?”
The boy is silent for a long moment. Hesitant. Confused. There's a muffled noise of something—probably the lantern—being hit repeatedly, then weak blue light blinks through the darkness, only to disappear completely again. This time, for good.
“It... I didn't know it—it could die,” Yuuri hears the voice say, frightened now, yet weaker, higher-pitched than earlier. “Oh no—no no no—”
The wind howls around them, gaining in volume and strength.
“I can help!” Yuuri shouts through the noise. He digs his feet into the snow, bracing himself against the wind. “Give me your lantern, I can lend you some of my light!”
“Your—your light?”
Yuuri lets go of his hood and clasps his hands together – they're so close, yet he can't even see them. The wind tugs at his clothes and his hair, drenches him in wet, cold snow, but he clenches his eyes and focuses with his whole being on the warmth running through his veins.
He hears the boy's gasp right before his numb hands start warming up. When he opens his eyes, the darkness between them has started to dissipate.
“You're one of the light deities,” whispers the boy, and Yuuri hears him despite the wind still wreaking havoc around them. His eyes—the blue Yuuri's seen earlier—are wide in the way they stare at him, awe-struck, the tiny flame in Yuuri's cupped hands reflecting in his irises. His silver hair dances on the wind with the grace of the softest snowflakes.
He's even more of a sight from up close.
“Will you let me lend you my light?” Yuuri asks again, face much warmer than before. Now that he can see the boy—now that he's seen by him, it feels—
The flame in Yuuri's hands grows stronger when the boy smiles.
“Please,” he says and offers his lantern.
The light shifts into it naturally as though it belongs there.
In a blink of an eye, the world around them comes back into focus. The sky is dark still, but the storm has calmed down; some of the clouds disappear and the wind is a gentle spirit once again, leading splatters of big, fluffy snowflakes in a slow, well-coordinated dance. They sparkle when lit by the moon just so.
“I never thought I'd meet a light deity,” the boy says. Now that his lantern shines again, warm and strong this time, he looks just as happy and excited as the other nights Yuuri's seen him. “Thank you so much for sharing your light with me! I don't know what's wrong with my glow... Yours works so much better!” He gifts Yuuri with a smile that could rival the brightness of the midday sun and pushes out his hand. “I'm Victor.”
Yuuri can't help the way his face heats up when he takes Victor's hand. He takes a small breath and looks up at him—and seeing Victor's smile again paints one over his lips, too. “Yuuri,” he says quietly.
Their smiles grow softer for just a moment—and before either of them can say anything more, a soft glow distracts them. It shines warmly through the cracks of their fingers, tickles their skin as it shifts between their palms. The moment they let go of each other's hands, they see it: a ball of bright, silver light, jumping off their palms, moving erratically. No longer trapped, it shoots towards the sky, not growing smaller despite the distance it leaves behind. They watch in awe as it flies higher and higher—until, with a secretive wink in their direction, it stops right next to the moon and moves no more.
“Wow,” Victor whispers, staring at the only two bright points in the sky. “That's never happened before.”
Yuuri simply nods, speechless. Their light twinkles in the sky no matter how much time passes, never growing dimmer. He makes a mental note for himself to ask his mother when he goes home what this kind of light means.
Then he remembers.
Home.
He looks at Victor, then at the world around them. It's not that cold anymore. Not that dark. Not that dangerous. Surely, he wouldn't want to—
“Victor,” Yuuri says before he manages to talk himself out of it. His fists clench at his sides, shoulders hunched till they touch his ears, his heartbeat growing faster when he feels Victor look at him again.
“Yes?”
“Will you drink tea with me?” The words sound so silly once they're out, but since he can't take them back, he only squints at the snow between their feet and braces himself for a polite rejection.
It never comes.
Instead, Victor laughs—a sound made of moonlight and tiny bells and joy—and says:
“I'd love to.”
A light deity and the prince of darkness walk into a tiny, wooden house together, unaware of the way they can—and will—enrich countless universes.
(Deep down, in their hearts, they already know.)
(Ever after.)
It's dusk already – the Saint Petersburg sky grows darker and darker every time Victor closes and opens his eyes again. The first, brightest star twinkles on the horizon, winks at him in such a familiar way, as though it knows something Victor doesn't and it's just waiting to share with him its secrets.
Or maybe it's just Victor's feverish brain playing tricks on him as it has been doing that nearly the whole day, making the room feel hot and cold at the same time or alerting his stomach of being hungry, only to make food the most off-putting thing when he finally sees it.
It's such a pain being sick. He swears he can feel hours of his life physically stolen from him, all while seeing time pass outside the window of his and Yuuri's bedroom.
There's a rustle behind him, a soft sound of a door being opened with an elbow and a socked foot. Victor groans when something jumps on the bed—Makkachin, he finds out soon enough—and opens his tired eyes again. In the wardrobe mirror facing the door, he sees Yuuri's reflection, the image of a worried man, a dark silhouette on a painfully bright background of the living-room lights. In his arms, he's holding a tray with a bowl, a mug, and a glass, two of them steaming.
"Makka, no—" Yuuri scolds in a soft tone the same moment their dog pushes her snout against Victor's head. It's a little too much, her fur rubbing against his sensitive face, but he'd never push her comfort away – she's been there for him her whole life, after all, for the longest time being his happiness, his joy, his one and only. His motivation and lucky charm.
He whispers, "It's okay," and lifts the heavy duvet enough for Makkachin to squeeze in next to him. She never misses her chance, and certainly doesn't this time, either.
The tray clanks as Yuuri puts it on the bedside table. "I brought you some chicken soup and ginger tea," he says in that quiet voice he uses whenever he deems Victor in need of silence. He's not wrong, but he's not right, either. He turns on the bedside lamp on the dimmest setting, closes the door so no unnecessary brightness bothers them, and comes back to sit down at Victor's side on the edge of the bed. "How's your fever?"
Victor turns towards his voice. "I don't know."
Yuuri leans in and presses his lips against Victor's forehead. Victor closes his eyes and breathes in the smell clinging to Yuuri's clothes. Chicken broth. He must have cooked it and not gone out to buy it as Victor suspected at first. Something in that simple thought clenches around his heart and moistens his eyes.
It's not the first time he's been sick since Yuuri's moved in; he should already know that Yuuri's stubborn, that he loves him, and having been brought up by loving Japanese parents Yuuri has more than just one health trick up his sleeve.
When Yuuri leans away, his eyebrows are pinched together in worry and even though Victor's whole body hurts, he still reaches to that beautiful face and smooths the wrinkle with his fingertips.
"I'll get through this in no time, you know," Victor says.
Yuuri breathes out and takes Victor's hand in his own, presses another kiss to it, then puts it on his cheek and noses against it. "I know. And I'll be here for you through every second of it."
And here's the thing – when Victor's this sick, he's largely dependent on other people. When his muscles are weak and give him pain instead of strength, he can't even go to the bathroom by himself when he wakes up in the middle of the night. And Yuuri—normally treasuring his sleep like nothing else—wakes up at the quietest noise, like a guard, ready to nurture at any second. He's only ever a light sleeper when Victor isn't feeling well. Supportive is what Yuuri is. In big and small ways, like holding Victor's hand so dearly even when it goes lax in his hold, the strain of supporting it too much.
"Do you want to try to eat some soup?" Yuuri asks.
Eating is difficult, too, but Victor knows all too well that food is energy, and energy is exactly what his body needs right now. He nods, then, and lets Yuuri's touch envelop him again when he helps him sit up. The duvet pools in his lap and he shivers when the seemingly cold air in the room irritates his sweat-drenched skin.
Yuuri makes a soft sound and tries to arrange the duvet back over him, without much success – it keeps uncovering Victor's body in one way or another, or falls back down again.
"It's okay," Victor says at the same time as Yuuri frowns in slight frustration and mumbles, more to himself than to Victor:
"You know what." But doesn't say anything more, acting instead. He stands up and unzips his hoodie, does quick work of taking it off and pulling it around Victor's shoulders.
Victor's body gives another shiver, one of a different kind now. He closes his eyes and succumbs into the warmth of Yuuri's body still clinging to the thick fabric, embracing him now in a way his own skin doesn't find overwhelming.
"There," Yuuri murmurs as he zips the hoodie up. For good measure, he pulls the hood over Victor's head, too. It draws a soft smile from both of them.
"But my arms..."
"Are you uncomfortable?" Yuuri asks right away. When Victor hums a soft 'no', he nods to himself and takes hold of the mug with tea. "You won't need your arms. I'll help you, don't worry about anything."
The tea isn't as hot as Victor's expected it to be, yet he still feels the heat of it flow through his chest with every single sip; not irritating – just enough.
With eyes closed, Victor surrenders completely. He opens his mouth when asked to, drinks spoonfuls of the chicken broth, and swallows the medication Yuuri gives him. When he opens his eyes again, the first thing he sees is his own reflection in the glass of water held in front of him.
"Just a little," Yuuri encourages with a smile when their eyes meet, "to help the pills go down. Come on."
He drinks the whole glass.
A million years seem to pass before he lies down again, but this time he doesn't mind that at all. He still has the hoodie on, this time with his arms in the sleeves, Yuuri's scent pleasantly close, as though woven in between the threads of the material.
“Do you want some peace and quiet?” Yuuri whispers when he's done arranging the duvet around him.
'Do you want me to go?' is what he means.
Victor shakes his head at that and finds Yuuri's hand with his own.
'Stay.'
Yuuri hums, just a single soft sound in the back of his throat. 'Okay.' Instead of crawling under the sheets next to him, though, he stays where he is. Maybe not to disturb him, or maybe because Makkachin's taken his side of the bed. Or maybe—
Victor gasps and closes his eyes and melts the second Yuuri's cool palm presses gently against his forehead. In moments when every sensation is either too much or not enough, Yuuri's touch feels like magic.
Maybe that's what the star would have whispered to him about if he were able to hear it, Victor thinks, every part of his being curling around the soothing presence of Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri. 'You're in good hands. You'll be alright.'
Maybe he does lose hours of life whenever he's sick. Maybe he's cheated and robbed of time. Nothing, though, could steal Yuuri's love from him. Not in this lifetime and not in any other.
The sky was twinking with stars by the time they arrived home. Viktor and his father had been away for a little over a month and Viktor was relieved to be home. Not only was he able to sleep in his own bed, he’d be able to see Yuuri.
His entire being yearned to spend time with Yuuri. He thought of him thousands of times while he was in London and it was the best torment. Though he wanted to see him that very moment, Viktor knew it wasn’t feasible since it was close to two in the morning.
Helping the butler bring in the luggage from outside, Viktor retired to his room when they completed the task. He toed his shoes off, laid down, resting his arms behind his head. His thoughts were filled with Yuuri and he dreamed of being reunited with him by the time he drifted to sleep.
<hr>
Yuuri was chatting with his family at the breakfast table, his heart broken that Viktor hadn’t returned. Toshiya and Mari were discussing business, Yuuri wishing they would stop. He was about to give up on breakfast when he heard a knock at the door. His heart sped up and he offered to get the door, quickly rising from his seat and striding toward the door. There was a courier on the stoop and he had a letter for Yuuri. After tipping the young man and thanking him, Yuuri tore into the envelope and read the letter inside.
My Sweet Yuuri,
We returned home early this morning. You don’t know how much I wanted to send this to you the moment I got home, but I didn’t want to interrupt your rest. I eagerly await seeing you. I plan on remaining at home until I hear from you.
As always…
I am yours,
Viktor
He read it once more for good measure and ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. He knew he should finish his meal, but he was far too excited at the aspect of seeing Viktor. He gave no care to what he wore that day, taking only a moment to make sure his clothing was acceptable. Placing his straw hat on his head, Yuuri ran out the door and towards the Nikiforov estate.
Yuuri could hear the sounds of a piano drifting through the air, getting louder as he approached the patio leading to the front door. On a normal day, he would take the time to listen to it. This day was different, however, and Yuuri wanted to see Viktor posthaste.
Yuuri knocked on the door and waited for it to be answered. He didn’t have to wait long, grinning when he saw Viktor’s face. He looked tired but happy to see him. Resisting the urge to kiss Viktor senseless, Yuuri took Viktor’s hands in his own.
“You don’t know how overjoyed I am to see you,” Yuuri said breathlessly.
“And I you,” Viktor agreed, “Would you like to come in?. I have so many stories to tell you. I even bought you a tiny souvenir.”
“I’d like that,” Yuuri replied.
After ushering Yuuri in, Viktor guided him to the stairs and asked how Yuuri had fared during their time apart. Yuuri told him about the long days of work and the even longer times without him. Yuuri tried to make the best of it and stay busy. He surprised Viktor by telling him he had played polo once with Harold and his brothers. While it wasn’t as appealing as when Viktor was there, he had fun nonetheless.
Once they reached Viktor’s room, Yuuri was stunned by the normalcy of Viktor’s room. He expected it to exude the wealth that was present in the rest of the house, but none was to be seen. Taking in every aspect of it, Yuuri turned around and saw Viktor grinning at him.
“I didn’t think I expected this,” Yuuri admitted, “I like it.”
“I like at least one space to reflect who I really am,” Viktor said, “Besides, I have my most decadent area in my closet. I’m quite picky when it comes to a wardrobe.”
Yuuri giggled and the edges of Viktor’s eyes creased in bemusement. Viktor took Yuuri’s hand and led him to a nearby loveseat. They were cramped by the smallness, but Viktor loved the body heat radiating from Yuuri. Looking up and catching Yuuri’s gaze, Viktor smiled softly.
“I missed you so much,” Viktor said, leaning in for a brief kiss.
The kiss was just the tip of everything they felt for one another. It was sweet, loving, and ever so delicate. Sitting back, Viktor smiled once again when he saw the faint blush on Yuuri’s cheeks.
“How I missed feeling your lips upon mine,” Viktor whispered, brushing Yuuri’s bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.
Taking a deep breath, Viktor settled in next to Yuuri so his hand could rest on Yuuri’s knee. He talked about all the landmarks he saw and how much better it would have been with Yuuri there. He discussed the boring meetings he was forced to attend. While he did enjoy the town itself, he wanted nothing more than to be with Yuuri.
“I did get you something,” Viktor said, pulling a small box from a nearby drawer and handing it to Yuuri.
Yuuri glanced at the box before turning his gaze to look at Viktor, confused when he saw the logo of a world-famous jeweler. Opening the lid, Yuuri gasped when he saw the delicate hand-blown red glass rose in the midst of a fragile glass vase. He didn’t want to pick it up for fear he’d drop it, but Viktor took the box from him and lifted the piece from its setting.
“It even has a ruby in the middle,” Viktor said, pointing at the small stone in the center of the rose.
Yuuri nodded and felt a tear slip down his cheek. He had never received anything on the scale that Viktor had given him. Too awestruck to speak, Yuuri simply nodded once more.
“Cat got your tongue?” Viktor teased.
“This is beautiful,” Yuuri declared, “I can’t believe something like this exists.”
Viktor smiled and listened to Yuuri gush about every aspect of the rose. He saw things Viktor hadn’t thought of and it was an eye-opening experience. Taking a breath, Yuuri leaned forward and brushed his lips across Viktor’s.
“Thank you so much,” Yuuri said, “I’ve never received anything so breathtaking before.”
“I’m glad you like it. Would you like to take it home and then we can head to the park? I would hate for it to shatter,” Viktor suggested.
Yuuri agreed and took Viktor’s hand when he stood. Seeing Viktor again was everything he thought it would be and more. Yuuri couldn’t believe how much he missed him now that he was with him. He never wanted to be apart from Viktor that long again.
Stopping momentarily so Yuuri could take his gift home, they headed toward the town square. It was bustling by the time they arrived and they sincerely hoped there would be a checkers table clear. They went into the cafe and bought some lemonades before starting the search for a table to play at. None were free, but there were a few chess tables empty. After learning they both knew how to play, they chose one and sat down.
“I play a mean game of chess,” Yuuri said.
“I don’t think you have the capability to be mean,” Viktor joked, laughing when Yuuri gave him an exasperated look.
They talked while setting the board up, discussing polo that week and how Harold had sprained his ankle the week before. Viktor mentioned they might have to postpone the match that week, but Yuuri told him that Thomas’ cousin promised to fill in for Harold.
They fell silent once the game started. They both displayed their finesse and knowledge of the game, both of them clearing the board of lesser pieces. Viktor was down to his king and moved it all over the board in an effort to not be captured.
“Check,” Yuuri said, when he placed his queen in front of Viktor’s king, “and mate.”
“How did your rook get over there so fast?” Viktor questioned.
“It’s been there for three turns, silly,” Yuuri teased, “Ready or another?”
They played until the sun began to set and the park started to clear out. Deciding to wrap up the current game quickly, Yuuri placed the pieces back in the drawer and cleaned the top of the board off. Once everything was settled, Viktor took Yuuri’s hand and led him through a flower-filled alley.
“Do you remember the first time we came through here?” Viktor inquired.
“The night you kissed my forehead,” Yuuri said, touched that Viktor still remembered.
“That was one of the best nights of my life,” Viktor confessed.
They continued walking down the alley until they reached the bridge leading to the other side of town. They crossed the bridge and took a shortcut through the grass, sitting down once they reached the old willow tree.
“I think this is our spot, Yuuri,” Viktor observed.
“I agree with you wholeheartedly,” Yuuri said.
Viktor laid back and stared at the sky through the fronds of the willow tree. The sky looked as soft as Yuuri’s skin, the twinkling reminiscent of Yuuri’s eyes. Not about to contain himself, Viktor sat up and cupped Yuuri’s face.
“I’ve never before seen such a perfect ensemble formed in one person,” Viktor started, “How do you capture my heart so?”
Yuuri looked down at a thread he was toying with and contemplated Viktor’s words. He knew exactly how Viktor felt because that was what drew Viktor to him. He just never expected to hear his own thoughts echoed back at him.
“I wonder the same about you countless times each day, Vitya,” Yuuri whispered.
Viktor eased onto his side and searched Yuuri’s face. His eyes sparkled from the moonlight and his lips were slightly opened. The small gasps he took while gazing at the sky endeared him even more to Viktor.
“I do believe you are an angel descended from heaven,” Viktor whispered, brushing a single lock of hair out of Yuuri’s vision.
Yuuri looked at him, shocked from his confession. He knew Viktor fancied him, but not enamored as much as Viktor professed. While Yuuri fought the perils of infatuation since he didn’t think Viktor felt the same, Yuuri felt as if the cage surrounding his heart flew open and set forth to fly.
“No, Viktor, I’m not,” Yuuri assured him, “Maybe we were destined to meet and fall in love, though it’s been a rather quick endeavor of our relationship.”
“Do you think this has been a speedy experience?” Viktor asked, watching Yuuri nod, “I apologize for pressing my wants upon you, Yuuri. What can I do to make it up to you?”
“It’s not all that bad, Vitya,” Yuuri said, “I just don’t want to blaze like a meteor and then the next week it’s gone..”
“I can promise you that you are not a flight of fancy, my sweet Yuuri, I love you with everything that I have. I know our love is young, but I want to see if blossom into a mature love,” Viktor said, “I want you in my life for the duration. I can definitely promise you that.”
Yuuri turned his head and caught Viktor’s gaze with his own. Searching Viktor’s eyes, Yuuri gasped slightly when Viktor lowered his head and captured Yuuri’s lips with his. The taste of Viktor flooded his mouth and he didn’t realize how much he missed it until that moment. He knew he could go on kissing Viktor forever, but alas the fates weren’t kind to relationships such as theirs. Resigning himself to cherish whatever time he had with Viktor, Yuuri continued to kiss Viktor in the most passionate kiss either had ever experienced. When they finally broke apart, Viktor placed his arm around the back of Yuuri’s neck and grinned.
“I think I could grow to love that for the rest of my life,” Viktor stated, “but it’s time we return to our respective homes. I’ll walk you to your door.”
Yuuri returned the smile and nodded, being in full agreement. Night had fallen and it had been dark for a few hours, so Viktor risked it all and held Yuuri’s hand. Not caring about the repercussions of the action, Viktor only basked in the love between them.
When they reached Yuuri’s house, Yuuri stood on the steps leading up to the porch. He didn’t want the night to end but knew that it must. Looking at Viktor, Yuuri sighed sadly.
“I feel like we have so much time to catch up on,” Yuuri said.
“At least a ton more kisses as well,” Viktor said, winking when Yuuri giggled, “What do you have planned for tomorrow?”
“I have to balance a few books, but after that I should have the afternoon free,” Yuuri said.
“Would you fancy going swimming in the lake with me?” Viktor asked.
“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Yuuri said, “I’m saddened to say that this is the end of our fabulous evening.”
“I as well, but we always have tomorrow,” Viktor promised him, making circles on Yuuri’s hand with the pad of his thumb, “I shall collect my evening kiss then.”
“All right,” Yuuri said, laughing when Viktor smiled, “Until tomorrow, Vitya.”
“Until then, my sweet Yuuri. Until then.”
The art done by the amazingly talented @princessmimoza. Need to catch up? Check it out on Ao3 here.
“Kind of…but different.” Phichit shrugged, barely turning long enough to acknowledge Victor’s question.
“How so?” Victor asked as his question was answered. A burly competitor knocked into a rail-thin girl as she spun on the axis of her blade, grabbing her by the wrist while the beat kept its consistent laid-back pulse. In an instant, the smaller skater kicked up sharply, slicing into his wrist. The detached hand remained gripped on her arm. Her eyes went ravenous as she leered at the man, unhinging the fingers from her wrist one at a time. She gripped him by the thin layer of hair shooting up from his forehead, bent his head back, shoved his own hand in his mouth, and drove him to the ground.
“These can take your arm off in one swipe.” Phichit cocked a grin as he gestured.
