Somewhat Functional

We did a thing, guys. 

Info under the cut.

“According to the group chat Leo made at three in the morning one night, they’re “Dr. K’s Bad Bitches”. But in reality, they’re simply two PA’s, a driver, and three in-home aides tasked with helping Dr. Yuuri Katsuki- arguably one of the smartest men in the world. 

Between the six of them, they have the Doctor perfectly figured out. They know his schedule, his routines, his moods. But everything is not as it seems- a supposedly dead fiancee is very much alive, and the Doctor’s perfectly oiled life is not as seamless as it appears”

In general, this is a lot darker than the things I’ve written for this fandom before, if you’re a follower who knows me from stuff like Tech Week, this is a bit of a u-turn. It’s not terribly dark- nobody’s dying. Though there’s some brainwashing and emotional manipulation happening and some violence might be coming farther down the road. 

There was probably a time in which a much-younger Victor Nikiforov got his very first PR specialist and was taught the ins and outs of flirting with the cameras. He learned exactly when to be sweet, when to be silent, when to be sexy. And in the end, he learned how to give people exactly what they wanted.

There was probably a time in which a much-younger Victor Nikiforov was asked if he had a girlfriend. And he’d laughed, twirled his hair around his finger. “Of course not,” he’d said, wearing signature smile number five. “But I have a boyfriend.”

Technically he didn’t have a boyfriend, but the look on the PR lady’s face had been priceless.

He hadn’t really been ready for all the questions that came after, but he’d answered them anyway. He’d laughed. He’d smiled. He’d made a few jokes, thrown in an innuendo or two for good measure.

There was a time in which a much-younger Victor Nikiforov became a playboy, and though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it was, the headlines had spoken for themselves.

There was also a time in which a much-younger Victor Nikiforov became an adult, and though he hadn’t necessarily been of age, the headlines had spoken for themselves.

So had the interview questions.

So had the sponsors.

There was probably a time in which a slightly-less-younger Victor Nikiforov had regretted it all, in which he realized just how far he’d gone, in which he realized that he couldn’t go back.

And there was probably a time in which a fourteen-year-old Yuri Plisetsky looked at a much-older Victor Nikiforov, determination etched in his eyes, ready to skate Eros with everything he had.

And there was probably a moment in which Victor realized it wasn’t even a choice. Of course, someone would push Yuri down that road eventually, someone probably already had.

But that someone would not be Victor Nikiforov.