Ship: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov Fandom: Yuri!!! On Ice Major Tags: sexual content, underage Other Tags: clear sheet protectors: the hallmark of a lonely adolescence, binder full of Victors, reference to masturbation, poor yuurs Word Count: 589
I have some regrets.
***
There were some pictures of Victor that Yuuri didn’t put up on his bedroom walls, where his mother could come in and see them. Those pictures had their own four ring binder -- innocently labeled as ‘Inspirations’ -- complete with clear sheet protectors to protect them the grease of Yuuri’s hand and … other things.
It wasn’t all nudes. It wasn’t mostly nudes. Yuuri reasoned that Victor wearing a costume that was largely composed of glitter and nude mesh didn’t count as being naked anyway. Yuuri’s favorite was one where Victor still had his long hair -- it was an ad for a men’s cologne that wasn’t even sold in Japan. Yuuri had had to barter with a western fan to get it, but it was worth it.
It had Victor climbing out of a icy-blue lagoon that was the exact color of his eyes. Victor smoldered at the camera, his lips pouting. He looked beautiful and sleek and somehow unreal. Yuuri sometimes dreamed about this Victor, how cool he would be to touch, how smooth would his skin. How beautiful Victor was…
(Anyway, the sheet protectors really helped keep Yuuri’s collection safe.)
When he went off to college, Yuuri made the mistake of taking his Victor binder with him. He hadn’t really thought of it, just dropped it into his suitcase with some other things. He lived in a small flat close to school and had no roommates, so there was no reason that, after school and after practice, he couldn’t take the binder out and look at them. There’s the one with castaway Victor, with shells in his hair. There was Renaissance prince Victor, with Botticelli curls and a rosy sneer. (That was a rare look at didn’t quite work with Victor -- but Yuuri appreciated the effort.)
Then, disaster -- a girl Yuuri had half-heartedly tried dating came over to his flat and found the binder. He’d gotten careless, had left it lying on his bed for anyone to see. She’d held up for him, a frozen look in her face. “Is this what you’re into, Katsuki-kun?”
“Ah --” Yuuri said, dying inside. “You’re misunderstanding things. It’s my book of inspiration. For figure-skating. I’m a figure-skater.”
“I don’t think I’m misunderstanding,” she said, putting it back on his bed. “Goodnight, Katsuki-kun.”
Yuuri was so furious with himself that he considered destroying the binder, or throwing it away. What did it matter if he held Victor so close to his heart? How could he even consider someone loving someone perfect like Victor when he was so horribly flawed?
The next time Yuuri came home, he put down all his posters of Victor and hid the binder in his closet. He didn’t come back home, back to his room or back to Victor for five years. And when he did, his mother had put up the posters again and he had a new, strange complication in his life -- the real, living breathing Victor Nikiforov, who was nothing like his posters at all.
(He was better.)
Of course, the real Victor was also hopelessly noisy. He had ferreted out Yuuri’s secret shame almost right away, and dug up Yuuri’s even more secret shame soon after. Yuuri thought he would have a heart attack when he came in one day to see Victor casually flipping through the blinder. He looked up and smiled when he saw Yuuri.
“Yuuri,” he said, his face innocence personified, “you know, that cologne reeked so badly that I didn’t smell right for a week? Yuuri? Have you fainted? Yuuri!”
FILL: Team Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, T
Fandom: Yuri!!! On Ice
Major Tags: sexual content, underage
Other Tags: clear sheet protectors: the hallmark of a lonely adolescence, binder full of Victors, reference to masturbation, poor yuurs
Word Count: 589
I have some regrets.
***
There were some pictures of Victor that Yuuri didn’t put up on his bedroom walls, where his mother could come in and see them. Those pictures had their own four ring binder -- innocently labeled as ‘Inspirations’ -- complete with clear sheet protectors to protect them the grease of Yuuri’s hand and … other things.
It wasn’t all nudes. It wasn’t mostly nudes. Yuuri reasoned that Victor wearing a costume that was largely composed of glitter and nude mesh didn’t count as being naked anyway. Yuuri’s favorite was one where Victor still had his long hair -- it was an ad for a men’s cologne that wasn’t even sold in Japan. Yuuri had had to barter with a western fan to get it, but it was worth it.
It had Victor climbing out of a icy-blue lagoon that was the exact color of his eyes. Victor smoldered at the camera, his lips pouting. He looked beautiful and sleek and somehow unreal. Yuuri sometimes dreamed about this Victor, how cool he would be to touch, how smooth would his skin. How beautiful Victor was…
(Anyway, the sheet protectors really helped keep Yuuri’s collection safe.)
When he went off to college, Yuuri made the mistake of taking his Victor binder with him. He hadn’t really thought of it, just dropped it into his suitcase with some other things. He lived in a small flat close to school and had no roommates, so there was no reason that, after school and after practice, he couldn’t take the binder out and look at them. There’s the one with castaway Victor, with shells in his hair. There was Renaissance prince Victor, with Botticelli curls and a rosy sneer. (That was a rare look at didn’t quite work with Victor -- but Yuuri appreciated the effort.)
Then, disaster -- a girl Yuuri had half-heartedly tried dating came over to his flat and found the binder. He’d gotten careless, had left it lying on his bed for anyone to see. She’d held up for him, a frozen look in her face. “Is this what you’re into, Katsuki-kun?”
“Ah --” Yuuri said, dying inside. “You’re misunderstanding things. It’s my book of inspiration. For figure-skating. I’m a figure-skater.”
“I don’t think I’m misunderstanding,” she said, putting it back on his bed. “Goodnight, Katsuki-kun.”
Yuuri was so furious with himself that he considered destroying the binder, or throwing it away. What did it matter if he held Victor so close to his heart? How could he even consider someone loving someone perfect like Victor when he was so horribly flawed?
The next time Yuuri came home, he put down all his posters of Victor and hid the binder in his closet. He didn’t come back home, back to his room or back to Victor for five years. And when he did, his mother had put up the posters again and he had a new, strange complication in his life -- the real, living breathing Victor Nikiforov, who was nothing like his posters at all.
(He was better.)
Of course, the real Victor was also hopelessly noisy. He had ferreted out Yuuri’s secret shame almost right away, and dug up Yuuri’s even more secret shame soon after. Yuuri thought he would have a heart attack when he came in one day to see Victor casually flipping through the blinder. He looked up and smiled when he saw Yuuri.
“Yuuri,” he said, his face innocence personified, “you know, that cologne reeked so badly that I didn’t smell right for a week? Yuuri? Have you fainted? Yuuri!”