Pagophobia [Viktor x Reader]

Fear of the Ice

The cool air hit first as you step out of the airport, making you wish you wore something warmer. After spending time in Switzerland, you'd think you'd be used to the cold.

"[Name]!" a voice called out the instant you made it out. Turning towards the voice, you quickly spotted Yuuri Katsuki who was waving at you with a huge smile on his face. You had been rink mates once in Detroit, but you moved around a lot so you didn't spend a lot of time there. Despite being a few years older than him, you were close, still seeing each other at competitions and calling every now and then.

"Yuuri!!" you smile, as you begin to stride towards him.

"And?" he asks, his eyes lit up in hope as he waits on your answer. You know he's asking about what the doctor said. The season before last, you were coming first after the short program in the women's Grand Prix Final and everyone – even the other competitors – were expecting you to win. You'd pretty much flawlessly completed your routines and won gold at both previous cups and were in a good position. But the night before the free program, you'd gotten in an accident and broke your leg. Badly. You had to pull out but they'd given you honorary gold anyway, despite your protests. You didn't like it. You hadn't wanted to win that way. It had taken a lot of waiting and rehabilitation to get to where you were now, but you had yet to receive permission from your doctor to go back onto the ice in a competitive sense so you had avoided it.

You just shrug and give a sad smile as if to say that you didn't expect anything different. The hope quickly fades to disappointment. You hug him and trying to shift the focus off you.

"I'm proud of you, Yuuri," you say, "I know you're disappointed with the results, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't either, but I'm proud of you. Because it's hard to get on the ice when you know you're going to win. But it's a lot harder to get on the ice when you know you're going to lose."

"You're just trying to make me feel better," he denied as he pulled back.

"I wouldn't have to try to make you feel better if you'd just not come last."

"[Name], stop it," he grumbled. You hid a smile before it faded.

"I would've rather have come last the get that stupid honorary gold," you grumble. Yuuri's eyes shot to you, concern on having inadvertently bringing up something that he knew upset you. You brushed off his concern as you linked your arm through his. "So what's going on in life now? I've been a bit out of touch with the skating world recently." Just like that, his eyes lit up.

"Have you heard?" he exclaimed.

"Heard what?"

"You've met Viktor before, right?" Yuuri said, finally pointing out the tall man who was a little distance away, watching us.

"What is Viktor Nikiforov doing in Japan?" you whisper to Yuuri.

"He's becoming my coach," the man whispered back. You looked at him in surprise.

"No way!"

"I can barely believe it too."

"Yakov will be pissed," you laugh as you approached the silver haired man.

"Oh, he is," the Russian spoke.

"Viktor Nikiforov," you drawl, your head tilted at the 5-time gold medallist. "I guess it's good to see you again, not that we've really had much interaction." While you had been at the St Petersburg rink for a few months, your interactions with Viktor were always brief. You had no interest in his playboy charisma, instead forming closer bonds with Yuri Plisetsky over his ballerina physique and Mila, as she competed in the same division as you.