“I’m taking your name down and reporting you to AO3!” VikNik pouts, looking miserable as he stares at Yuuri, whose eyes get progressively wider as he keeps scrolling through the story. Eventually, he gasps, something soft as his cheeks flush a bright red. “What happened now?”
“N-nothing,” Yuuri squeaks, slamming the laptop closed.
If You Need a Bad Bitch, Let Me Call a Few. Rated E. This is the kind of stuff I can never let Viktor read in its entirety or else he might never recover — and considering my husband is old, I have to be really careful with him. But don’t tell him I told you that. This is pretty much an orgy. There are fifteen chapters, each one starring me and a fellow industry friend. The last one is only VikNik and me, in case some of you are particular. It’s wild. Apparently, I turn 20 and decide that, since I haven’t lost my “V card,” the time has come and I guess everyone gets an invite? It’s pretty descriptive. Of course, the first chapter is 3XO only, before suddenly Phichit starts inviting a million people. It’s something Peach would do, so points for realism? But, honestly, after losing that many fluids, I would be dead in real life. And, also, if anyone gave me a list, I would NOT leave VikNik to be “the best for last,” but I do appreciate that whoever wrote this had him show up in his full leather costume because 27 year old Viktor Nikiforov on the cover of Vogue is STILL the gift that keeps on giving. Read this!
“First of all,” Viktor blows his nose into a tissue, not even trying to pretend he’s not crying in front of the camera. “I hope you’re proud of yourself for making a music legend cry. I am a gift from the music gods and you hurt me. I will find you. Now, onto my second point: I give it zero stars. Zero! How could you kill me off? Do you even know who I am? And you made me die bald?”
Yuuri pats his husband’s shoulder, “there, there, Vitya. It wasn’t that graphic. For those that haven’t read it, the story is a lovely get-together post-tragedy fic in which Viktor finds out he has terminal cancer and asks Seunggil to take care of his family, as in me and the kids.”
“Which I would never do! And you! The betrayal! How could you remarry only two months after my death?”
“We’ve talked about this: It’s not real! You know what, go take a walk with the poodles. I’ve got this.”
Fire in Your Eyes. Rated M. If you’re here for the Yuuggie, then skip the first ten chapters of Viktuuri. You won’t be missing much, other than Yuuri crying a million tears (enough to fill Makkachin and Vicchan’s lake over in Villa Vedici,) and Viktor pretending he’s invincible, even as he loses clumps of hair. Tragic. I cried. Also, how dare you?! The following 15 chapters are maybe five too many, with way too many lyric breaks. Look, I get it, we’re Pop Stars, but settle down with the power ballads. Still, A+ for the VikNik playlist on Spotify (and whoever made that remix needs to call me). The actual romance between Yuuri and Seunggil is realistic, even if a little cliche — and it’s obvious whoever wrote this has traveled to Japan and Korea. And, for the record, I would not remarry after two months. That’s crazy! Extra points for remembering that Eureka currently only wants to wear tutus. It was a cute little bonus for the wedding. Nothing too graphic in this one, except for chapter 26, which, personally, I think should’ve raised the rating to E. Reader beware: This is a soap opera packaged into a fanfic.
wabi sabi 