lily!!! thanks a ton for offering to write me a birthday ficlet! i have two prompt options for you to choose from (courtesy of my personal prompt generator wife, robbie): 1. "we met each other on a sunday morning, both doing our walk of shame" au OR [cont.]
[cont.] 2. "i’m obsessed with a food blogger who writes about cheap ways to be gourmet in your 20s and i flirt with them over comments but they never post pictures of their face and ALSO there’s a really cute grocery bagger at the store down the street who teases me and always asks to join me for dinner and i definitely want to say yes" au. all ships fair game (though ofc i'm partial to victuuri, milasara, & phichimetti). thank you lovely!!! appreciate you tons!!!
okay so this is a belated bday ficlet for the super lovely @extranikiforov! (ilu rae im just a butt who has no concept of time) i’m going to uh... hahaha okay this is prompt 1, phichimetti, and tangentially related to the mayo jar fic that @sinkingorswimming wrote for me:
Christophe has heard of him, of course -- no one who likes figure skating and Instagram hasn’t heard of Phichit Chulanont and his excellent little videos of him goofing around on the ice to various strains of pop music. He’s probably personally responsible for at least 85% of the plays on the one video of Phichit dancing to Beyonce’s “Single Ladies” and somehow managing to nail the moves whilst having knife shoes strapped to his feet.
But it’s one thing to know about the legend, and it’s another to meet him in person. And it’s another to run into him sneaking out of his neighbour Viktor’s apartment at six in the morning.
“Seems we had the same idea,” he remarks cheerily, and Phichit nearly jumps a foot in the air at that, dropping his paper bag as he does. Christophe bends to get it, handing it back to him. “Visiting a friend?”
“I suppose,” says Phichit, and then frowns as he looks him up and down. “Wait. I’ve seen you around. You’re Yuuri’s Saturday Night.”
Christophe raises an eyebrow. “Saturday Night? Is that all you know about me?”
Phichit opens his mouth to protest further, but Christophe laughs, shaking his head as he takes out the key to his own apartment and fiddles with the door.
“Want to grab brunch?”
Phichit snorts. “In your apartment?”
“Well, I’m amenable to going to Panin’s, but I do need to put on clothes that aren’t obviously from last night,” replies Christophe, gesturing to the rumpled date-night outfit that Yuuri had half-torn in his eagerness to get them off of him.
Phichit looks him up and down, hums, and nods. “I see your point,” he says. “But Yuuri might be worried if --”
“Nonsense.” Christophe waves an airy hand. “You know he sleeps like the dead when he’s very tired out.”
“No thanks to you.” Phichit snorts again, but then his expression grows a little downcast, a little sheepish. “I’m... I’d be down for eggs and pancakes,” he says, his cheeks flushing a little darker at that. “But do you think I’d need to change, too?”
Christophe looks him up and down as briefly as he can. “Very Holly Golightly of you,” he declares. “I’m sure it’ll be quite the statement.”
Phichit laughs at that. “Right, breakfast at Panin’s in last night’s party dress. I’ll be accepting my Oscar now, thanks.”
Christophe smiles. “I like it,” he says, and vanishes into his apartment.
“So,” Christophe continues, half an hour later in a booth at Panin’s Diner on the corner. The city is starting to wake around them, cars and trucks honking and moving through the streets outside. Phichit stirs some whipped cream into his hot chocolate, and raises an eyebrow.
“So?” he echoes.
“I’m just Yuuri’s Saturday Night to you?” Christophe prompts. Phichit laughs, resting his chin on his hands. His smile is as indolent as the Sunday morning outside, slow and sweet and a little worshipful. Christophe’s never been one for religion, but maybe there’s some hint of God in the way Phichit’s eyes sparkle.
“I mean, I’ve heard other things,” Phichit replies, now idly licking his spoon and setting it back on the saucer. Christophe has barely touched his own coffee, but he’s more than alert to the way Phichit’s tongue dances along the steel edge of the spoon. “All good things, I’m guessing. I’ve always suspected Yuuri was a bit of a freak in the sack, so thanks for confirming that.”
Christophe feels his cheeks heat up, and he slowly slides his face into his hands. “How much did you hear,” he mutters.
Phichit takes on a distinctly breathless tone. “Oh, big boy, don’t stop, right there, mm, yes, like that, harder, yes!” It attracts a couple curious stares from other diner patrons, and Christophe isn’t sure whether to try to shut him up or evaporate on the spot, but either way he looks around and beams widely at the rather bemused server headed their way with breakfast.
“He’s really into the hot chocolate,” he explains, and Phichit bursts into laughter.
“So, big boy, I have to say, congratulations. I think you’re the first Saturday Night who’s ever gotten my poor roommate to think of someone other than Viktor Nikiforov for a couple hours at a time,” he teases. The server sets down their plates then, and almost immediately flees back behind the counter. Christophe can barely bring himself to be embarrassed at that.
He opts instead for smothering his fluffy pancakes -- Panin’s are some of the finest in town -- with maple syrup and whipped cream. “I’ll be accepting my... what’s the equivalent of an Oscar for good sex, then?”
“The... Golden Dildo,” declares Phichit, layering whipped cream between each layer of pancake and grinning from ear to ear. “A really big one, too. Yuuri once complained to me in this very booth that one of his Saturday Nights lied to him about being a grower.”
Christophe nearly spews out the pancake bite he’d just eaten. “What a disappointment that must have been,” he remarks.
Phichit shakes his head. “He was betrayed.”
“Hm. Speaking of betrayal, though -- ” Christophe’s eyes narrow. “Why were you sneaking out of Viktor’s place in a cocktail dress?”
Phichit shrugs. “Why does anyone ever do anything?” he wonders innocently.
Christophe waves an accusatory fork at him. “Does Yuuri know you’re test driving Viktor for him?”
Phichit gapes. “Test driving!” he exclaims, laughing. “That’s one way to put it. I rather prefer the term ‘loosening the mayo jar’, but yours is classier.”
“I can’t believe I’ve finally lived to see the day where five-time world champion figure skater Viktor Nikiforov is referred to as a mayo jar, but here we are.” Christophe shakes his head. “What a strange world we live in.”
“Strange indeed,” agrees Phichit. “Considering that Viktor Nikiforov’s hot neighbour is screwing my poor, sweet, introverted dancer of a roommate.” He waggles his fork back at Christophe. “You’d almost think there was some big cosmic mix-up going on around here.”
Christophe raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m hot,” he states.
“I’ve known you were hot for a while,” replies Phichit. “And I was surprised to see you show up sometimes on Saturday night, but hey. Hidden depths for everyone.”
Christophe wonders if this is the emotional equivalent of a punch to the solar plexus. He leans back in his seat and finally takes a long sip of his coffee. It’s not nearly as bitter as he’d like it to be.
“Let’s make a deal,” Phichit says suddenly, setting down his fork and knife and folding his hands conspiratorially. “You and I know better than anyone that those two idiots we call our roommate and neighbour are... how do I put this lightly?”
“Emotionally constipated but pining after each other?” asks Christophe.
Phichit snaps his finger. “Precisely. And you and I also know we’re both very hot and would like to try this out, too.” He gestures between them.
Christophe nods. “Viktor has... mentioned a couple times that he’s had his eyes set on his partner’s roommate,” he remarks. “He’s also then wondered if that makes him a bad person, but he doesn’t want to cheat, etcetera, etcetera.”
“It’s not cheating if we all agree to swap partners for a night,” Phichit points out, and then his eyes light up with some stroke of divine inspiration. “What are your thoughts, big boy, on a key party?”
Christophe vaguely wonders if Phichit actually knows his name, though he also has to admit, he doesn’t mind being called ‘big boy’ in that tone of voice.
He takes a bite of his pancake. “Tell me more,” he says, and Phichit grins.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Author: @katsukiyuuristrophyhusband
Length: 4036 (Complete)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Christophe Giacometti/Katsuki Yuuri
Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov, Christophe Giacometti
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Pregnancy Kink, victor nikiforov: smooth as gravel, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Knock Yuuri Up Week, Day 1: Impregnation
God Chris is loud, Victor thinks, half of his glass of vodka sloshing onto the floor as another rhythmic thump sounds against the shared wall between his and Chris’ rooms. Would the hotel allow him to change rooms so late at night? He could probably manage it no problem, but his toiletries are spread all over the bathroom and by the time he packs those up Chris and his…guest should be finished.
He’ll have to wait it out.
A moan floats through the wall. Victor’s not sure if it’s approving his plan or warning him to give up while he still can.
He pours himself some more vodka.
“Fill me up,” Chris's Fuck Buddy (CFB) says.
Oh god. Victor takes a long pull of vodka from his glass.
For once, Chris is quiet enough that Victor can’t hear anything beyond a murmur. And he thinks that’s that until—
“Fuck a baby into me,” Chris’ bedmate moans.
Victor chokes on his drink.
_____
Meet cute by way of pregnancy kink.
o h my god this fic is amazing i love it so much. also, yuuri’s pregnancy kink? #canon. but like also, like anything spooky writes, it’s just hilarious and perfect and i adored it.
send me a scenario and a ship and i’ll give you a “3 sentence fic” (aka cary can’t keep things short but she’ll try)
“Yuuri!” Christophe Giacometti, a retired hockey star and Yuuri’s partner for the season, called as he walked in and blew a kiss in Yuuri’s direction, his pants too tight in every place that Yuuri already wanted to stare. “What are we doing this week?” He walked too close, and definitely touched Yuuri’s ass when he slung his arm around Yuuri’s waist.
“Um... Our first dance is a salsa,” Yuuri managed, and then stumbled the rest of the explanation of what they were doing.
“Sounds hot,” Chris teased, stepping away to stretch.
A burst of courage hit Yuuri, and he winked in Chris’s direction. “Only if you can keep up.”
Chris laughed in surprise, and Yuuri smirked. This might just be a good season.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Author: @gia-comeatme
Length: 9382 (Complete)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Christophe Giacometti/Katsuki Yuuri, Christophe Giacometti/Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Characters: Christophe Giacometti, Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont, Ji Guang-Hong, Leo de la Iglesia, Lee Seung Gil, Sara Crispino, Mila Babicheva
Additional Tags: Polyamory Negotiations, Polyamory, Pining, Multimedia, Online Dating
If three men are all in love with each other, in how many ways can there be a couple?
(Hint: Polyamory.)
Or:
Chris and Yuuri match on Tinder, but they're both in love with Victor Nikiforov (and Victor Nikiforov is in love with them).
i betaed this fic, actually, and even from it’s earliest stages, it was absolutely amazing. essa put so much love into this fic and it’s a ship that deserves so much love and just??? such a good healthy polyamory fic. i adore this fic. it’s well-developed and i love the discovery and it’s so different. love it.
put ‘trick or treat’ in my inbox, and i’ll write a random 3(ish) sentence fic. a trick or a treat ;)
chris stood in the doorway, watching as yuuri slowly loaded his bag up from all of the equipment that he had just taken off, his hair still slightly dripping from the shower.
“what are you up to tonight, yuuri?” he asked, walking over to the other skater and slinging his arms around his neck. yuuri just smiled, leaning back into chris. they’d known each other long enough that yuuri was comfortable with chris’s casual (and not-so-casual) touching.
“probably just dinner. can’t do too much before skating again.” he didn’t look up, tying his shoe and picking up his bag, looking up at chris as if begging to be let go.
“then we’ll get dinner tonight!” chris agreed, letting go and grabbing his own bag. “and after we’re done skating?”
“i guess we’ll have to see.” yuuri’s eyes were shining, though, in a way that chris knew meant they were both going to be happy when they were done skating, no matter the results.
Some Eros Yuuri and Chris bc no one apparently ships that ship on tumblr beside me lol. Pls, there need to be more people who like that ship. Don’t leave me alone with that ship pls.
