fra pandolf by design by  alykapedia ( @alykapediaaa  )

Viktor has three paintings commissioned the very first time: one of him, Yuuri, and Yura, another featuring just him and Yuuri, and finally, a third one of Yuuri that only three people in the world will ever have the privilege of seeing because Viktor might just commit the most gruesome of murders should anyone else other than him, Yuuri, or the artist, sees it.

It, being a painting of Yuuri in complete dishabille, modesty preserved only by artfully placed swathes of silk and jewelry.

(I was really anxious to post this but I’ve done all that I could and this is the end result. I hope it looks okay. Forgive me if anything looks wonky, I am still learning how to draw. Also, if you haven’t read this Au, please go and read it because I think it is perfect and I love it.)

Without the frame:

Hi guys! International orders for Dishabille is now open! @alykapediaaa writes the classiest filth (with feelings) please do check it out!  (●´∀｀●)

Also added in con leftovers plus some new preorder items!

me: so i chatficced myself ... 1k words

aly: omg

me: chatfic with friends is like the online storytelling equivalent of sitting around a campfire but i ...

aly: SITTING IN FRONT OF THE CAMPFIRE BY YOURSELF

me: *i'm so ronery~~~* starts playing. it's 2006. again.

aly: u are hestia.

Not all the knights are stationed in the UK all the time. Their mission scope is far too global for that. Tristan is often stationed for long periods at a time at their Japanese HQ, Victor in Russia, as they both have advantages in those countries that other agents don't. Arthur would gladly swear on his dying breath rather than ever admit they had advantages to other Knights, though.

So it’s rapidly becoming rare that Tristan and Gawain are able to meet up in the UK HQ, since they've long proven themselves as competent agents that don't need to be kept close to home. It's rare that they meet other agents, too.

So one day, fresh out of the showers after a particularly invigorating sparring session, Tristan and Victor are idling in the training area, poking at each other’s fighting styles and any flaws they’ve noticed during the fight.

(Even though he knows his fellow agent’s real name, it doesn’t feel right to call him ‘Yuuri’. They aren’t that close.)

So absorbed with each other, they don’t notice a third individual in the room. “Both of you are fighting rather... softly with each other,” a solemn voice cuts in, “So of course that spar was a mess of mistakes.”

They turn to him in unison. Coiffed brown hair, a Rainmaker in hand, and a field-agent-issue Kingsman suit. His face seems prone to unfeeling politeness, but there are traces of emotion and good humour visible in his eyes and the fine lines around his mouth. Tristan recognizes him first. “Galahad, sir,” he greets, bowing with respect that Victor’s quite sure he’s never even shown Arthur. And then the codename clicks.

“Galahad?” Victor asks, half-disbelieving, sizing up the newcomer. He’s older than both of them, visibly so. He’s also the agent with a legendary reputation for missions that require nuclear force, tightly-reined violence all hidden under a genuine gentleman’s face. “The most Kingsman to Kingsman,” Victor’s handler had described him. “Of course, he has his flaws, like being late all the time, but he’s basically the best of the best.”

Victor had watched a few of his mission recordings to see exactly what his handler had meant, and had been suitably impressed by, well, everything. “You’re Galahad?” he asks.

Galahad tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. “I am.” He turns to Tristan. “It’s good to see you flourishing.”

“I hope to supersede your reputation someday,” Tristan replies, the words so unlike him that Victor has to blink for a few moments. Tristan turns up to Victor and smiles wryly. “Galahad was my sponsor.”

Holy shit, he really is Galahad. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” Victor says with barely-hidden excitement, memories of the mission feeds he watched resurfacing. He can’t help but step forward and hold out his hand for a handshake, gentlemanly manners be damned. “I saw the recording of your mission in Bolivia five years ago,” he finds himself saying, “How on Earth did you get out of that one with minimal injuries? I mean, I watched it, but my god.”

Galahad looks at him with amusement, and next to him, Victor can feel Tristan’s own amused gaze. “Are you two done sparring for the day?” Galahad asks.

Victor and Tristan look at each other. “Yes?” Tristan answers.

“That’s quite a shame,” Galahad says. “I find myself in need of a sparring partner at the moment. “I wouldn’t mind giving some pointers to a worthy opponent as well.”

Victor can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, even as Tristan lights up at the same time. “We have time,” he says.

They’re both beaten into the mats quite soundly multiple times by Galahad, of course, but it’s utterly worth it, to learn from his fighting style and to get pointers on developing their own.

“Your sponsor was Galahad?” Victor asks Tristan later after a mission briefing.

Tristan nods, smiling wryly at some memory.  “Apparently, he has an ongoing silent feud with Arthur on the matter of diversity in Kingsman,” he says, adjusting his glasses. “... I never served in any military corps. I was originally a dancer.”

Victor can’t help but raise his eyebrows.

Tristan forges on, looking a little nervous now. “Weird, right? But a close family friend of ours is a weapons dealer for the military. I stayed with her when I was attending university for dance, since her house was closer to my uni than my parents’ inn.”

“So you... picked up firearms as your break from dancing?” Victor guesses.

Yuuri nods. “It... helped. Strangely enough. But it helped.”

“And how did you meet Galahad?”

Yuuri smiles again, that same wry smile. “I got drunk off my ass at a formal event accompanying said family friend and ran into him in the restroom. Drunk me was able to identify exactly what guns he was concealing, and pointed out he had a little gunpowder on his sleeve. And a bullet in the folds of his suit.” He laughs a little, embarrassed. “Less than a year later, I get an offer from someone I couldn’t remember ever talking to to become a super-spy.” Yuuri cringes a little. “God, I was so drunk though.”

“Well, I’m glad you were, because it lead too you being here,” Victor says, smiling back at him.

Yuuri flushes at that, strangely enough. “What about you?” he asks.

Victor tilts his head. “I’ll tell you over dinner,” he offers.

“Dinner?” Yuuri repeats, confused.

“Yes, dinner. For the mission, remember?” Victor says.

Yuuri seems to wilt ever-so-slightly at that, but Victor knows he’s probably seeing things. “Yes, the mission.”

OKAY THAT IS ALL THE ENCOURAGEMENT I NEED. *manly thumbs up*

ang3lsh1 said: Clearly the only reasonable answer to that is to WRITE, WRITE, WRITE 8’D

I just need the ideas to come first, ugh. I was totally planning on writing the legendary nine day heat featuring 95% filth and 5% funny, but then I opened up a Word doc and my brain was like “LOL NOPE I’M TIRED OF WRITING PORN” and that was that. Now I just want to write something happy and fluffy and ridiculous because college is making me want to avoid any actual responsibilities, oops.

bolsheviktor said: listen that would be the best thing ever, could you imagine how mad lil alpha yuri would be at Victor for crashing his date

If This Be Error by @alykapediaaa