Character A is the heir to the royal throne, and Character B is their childhood best friend and servant. As children, both of them were disgusted by the idea of marriage – Character A wanted to marry for love and not for politics, and Character B didn’t like the big loud ceremonies and crowds associated with weddings – and so the two children decided to “marry” each other as friends. They manage to get a notarized marriage certificate, sign it, and promptly forget about it.
Fast forward many years later, and it is time for Character A to be wed and inherit the throne, but there’s a hitch: the childhood marriage certificate. The royal court demands that Character A and Character B get divorced before the new marriage goes through, but there’s a problem: Character A and Character B haven’t spoken in years.
16-year-old Yuri Plisetsky is a young noble. He’s pretty happy with his life - he’s the youngest son, so he’s not expected to take over the estate or shoulder any responsibilities. He just kinda…does whatever the hell he wants.
No one really knows where Yura is most of the time either. He just…sometimes disappears for weeks at a time, and no one really bothers to find out where he goes (visiting his best friend Otabek in the neighbouring kingdom).
No one really cares because Yura is not only the youngest son, he’s also a bastard.
He’s not really too upset. He’s made his peace with it. He’s never really gonna amount to anything in life. But then. Surprise surprise, turns out the man his mother had had an affair with was a cousin of the Queen mother.
The current king, 35-year-old Viktor Nikiforov, doesn’t have any heirs, with no plans to have any either, and so he decides to name his young cousin, Yura, as his heir.
And so, overnight, Yura finds his status in life completely changed, not that he’s complaining - don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.
He’s all packed up and moved to the palace within a week.
But being a prince isn’t all fun and games, like his old life had been. He has new responsibilities to carry out and countless things to learn - from history and foreign policy, to swordplay and ballroom dancing. Yura takes to his new life like a fish to water - he finds he likes to learning about all these things, likes serving his country well as its future ruler.
The only thing that puts a damper on things is his new guardians - he quickly finds out that rumours of the king’s frosty relationship with his husband are 100% true. Though they may present a strong, united front to the public, it becomes immediately clear that Viktor and his consort, Yuuri Katsuki, the first prince and younger brother of the queen of Yutopia, can barely stand each other.
Viktor Nikiforov truly lives up to his reputation as the ice king - he’s always distant, his eyes cold and calculating, his smile devoid of any warmth whatsoever. He’s coldly untouchable, barely even human.
On the other hand, his husband Yuuri at first seems to be his complete opposite, but is in fact just the same. He smiles sweetly at everyone, warm and friendly. He likes helping people out and listening to their troubles and taking care of them.But despite all that, he keeps everyone at arm’s length. He listens, but he never talks about himself, never leans on anyone else, never talks about his own troubles or his fears or his aspirations. He never lets anyone see him as anything less than perfect, composed, untouchable.
Yura has to have dinner with both of them once a week, and those single-handedly the most stressful times of his week, the moments he hates the most - the tension is always so thick he could cut it with a knife, turning the delicious food to cardboard in his mouth.
After a month of living at the castle, Yura finally learns what the deal is between the two.
He’s having tea with Lady Babicheva one day, and she tells him that things hadn’t always been like this between the king and his consort. Mila tells him that once upon a time, Viktor and Yuuri had been head over heels in love.
Yura doesn’t believe a single word of it. “What happened, then?” he asks skeptically.
“The Queen mother was killed,” she tells him softly, voice barely above a whisper.
Yura is confused. "I thought she had a heart attack?” he asks.
Mila leans in conspiratorially, dropping her voice even more, so that Yura can barely hear her. “It was covered up by the king,” she tells him, eyes darting this way and that to make sure no one is around to hear them.
“Why?“ asks Yura, still confused as all hell. "Wasn’t the king said to be extremely close to his mother? I’d think he’d be the one most eager to see the killer put to justice!”
“He was!” Mila confirms. “But he was putting the safety of the country before his own feelings.”
Yura is confused for a few seconds more, before horrible realization suddenly dawns on him, and a wide-eyed, horrified expression comes on his face.
Mila nods. “Prince Katsuki admitted to having her assassinated."
And suddenly, everything makes sense to Yura. Before Viktor and Yuuri had married, their two countries had been at war for generations. They had formed a shaky truce only two decades ago, and the marriage between Viktor and Yuuri had been meant to strengthen their alliance.
The Queen mother had been an extremely popular ruler in her time on the throne, and if it had come out that she had been murdered by her own son-in-law, a war would have been unavoidable.
When she had died though, the two countries’ economies had only just gotten back on their feet, and they were both still working to rebuild. Another war would have been disastrous for both sides.
So Viktor had let his own emotions take the backseat, had told everyone that she had died of a heart attack. Within the castle walls, however, he had taken drastic measures. He had put his husband under 24 hour surveillance.
(The rest of the world had cooed at how sweet it was, that he was so worried for his husband’s safety that he had given him four constant bodyguards to protect him at all hours of the day)
Yuuri had been forced to move out of their shared bedchambers. He had been sentenced to house arrest, forbidden from leaving the palace grounds unless he was attending official functions with Viktor. He spent most of his time alone, in his lonely tower bedroom.
Officially, the reason for all this was that Yuuri was sickly - that he stayed indoors due to his failing health. Only a select few in Viktor’s inner circle knew the truth of it.
And even now, five years later, Mila is still heartbroken about it all. She used to be close to Yuuri, had spent many an afternoon strolling with him through the castle gardens and giggling with him over tea and court gossip. She still misses her friend like an almost physical ache, and his betrayal is still an open wound.
Yura, however, is still somewhat skeptical. Something feels……..off to him.
He tries to stay away from Yuuri for a while after that,, just to be on the safe side. But the more he thinks about it, the more things just don’t add up, and the more he becomes *convinced* that there’s something up
(There’s no way anyone can just pretend to be that disgustingly nice all the time.)
There’s nothing more that Yuri hates than an unsolved mystery, and so he starts going out of his way to talk to Yuuri, to spend time with him.
Yuuri is surprised at first, but absolutely delighted. After so many years of isolation, it’s nice to have some social interaction. He had thought he would spend the next few decades alone, until Viktor had finally abdicated his throne, and Yuuri might hopefully be dismissed to move back to his family’s home in Yutopia, his duty complete.
The two Yuris grow extremely close over time, and Viktor starts to get wary, worried that his husband is trying to influence his heir as well. He tries to keep Yura away from Yuuri, trying to keep the impressionable teenager safe. But Yura keeps sneaking his way into Yuuri’s chambers, even after Yuuri warns him to stay away for his own safety.
Eventually, after several months of this, Yura finally gets the truth out of Yuuri.
The assassins had, in fact, been sent by a noble house from the country of
Svizra, one of their longtime allies, without the knowledge of their king Giacometti. The nobles had been hoping to take advantage of their weakened state in the aftermath of the war with Yutopia, and he been trying to instigate a war.
A war which would almost certainly have spelled the end of the Nikiforovs’ dynasty.
But they hadn’t accounted for just how fiercely loyal Yuuri was to his husband and his new country. If the public had found out that the Queen mother had been assassinated by their supposed allies, there would be no way to avoid a war - whether a war with the country of Svizra, or a civil war.
So Yuuri had claimed all the blame himself. Because he knew that, with their precarious alliance on the line, there would be no way Viktor would be able to take official action against him, and would be forced instead to cover up the fact that foul play had been involved.
Yuri Plisetsky is rightfully horrified, and absolutely furious. "What the hell, dumbass!? WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST TELL VIKTOR ABOUT IT?” he demands. “You didn’t have to take all the blame! Viktor would have understood!!!”
And Yuuri and his bleeding heart refuses to look at Yura when he replies, quietly, that he didn’t want Viktor and Chris’s relationship to suffer because of it. Because even if it was proven that the king had had no part in the assassination, his failure to notice the growing unrest in his court would have put strain on their alliance. And Svizra is a powerful country whose friendship will be indispensable in the future while their two countries rebuild themselves.
Yura wants to just scream because it’s not fucking fair and Yuuri is a dumbass for trying to fix everything himself, and Viktor is a dumbass for believing someone like Yuuri could ever betray him, and Christophe is a dumbass for not being able to stop all this, and everyone is just SO FUCKING STUPID.
Yuuri manages to get Yura to stay quiet about the whole thing.
He promises not to say anything to Viktor outright, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try and make his stupid cousin see his mistake somehow.
Yura starts spending more time with Viktor - starts trying to get past the icy barrier of hurt and betrayal he wears around himself like armor.
Viktor is slightly suspicious at first; suspicious that Yuuri has put him up to this. But it’s as good an opportunity as any to sway Yura back to his own side, and maybe keep him out of his husband’s clutches.
It doesn’t take long for Yura to get Viktor to spill the story of the assassination to him (Viktor hopes it’ll serve as a warning for Yura to stay away from Yuuri, to make him see that the man is dangerous)
And from then, Yura starts planting the seeds of doubt in his stupid cousin’s mind.
"What motivation would he even HAVE to kill her!?” is the first thing Yura demands. And it stops Viktor short, because he’d somehow never even thought of that.
It takes quite a bit of effort to make Viktor come around. (Because Viktor wants so badly for it to be true, for Yuuri to be innocent. He wants so badly to have his sweetheart back, but he just knows that if he lets himself hope, but it turns out that Yuuri is exactly the kind of cold-blooded murderer they think he is, it will absolutely DESTROY Viktor.)
Yes, it takes Viktor quite a while to finally come around, but even he isn’t able to keep up forever against Yura’s pointed questions and the nagging doubts that have started to grow and fester in his mind.
And when he finally caves and decides to have a proper investigation into the matter, Yuuri’s admission of guilt, his supposed motives for killing his mother-in-law, it all falls like a wet paper bag. There are more holes in his story than a slice of swiss cheese.
And Viktor is just. So ANGRY.
Angry at himself for ever believing that his sweet Yuuri would do something so treacherous when all this time it was quite the opposite, when Yuuri was ready to give up his own happiness, his own reputation, to keep his beloved country safe.
And he’s angry at Yuuri too. Because they lost FIVE WHOLE YEARS. Five years of kisses and cuddling, five years of laughter and love, five years of happiness.
And he’s probably never going to forgive himself for the way he’s treated Yuuri in those years.
And finally, Viktor has something more to live for. He’s no longer stuck just going through the motions.
It’s not all perfect, he’s never going to get his mother back, but he has his husband, and that’s good enough for him.
Yuuri is an absolute sweetheart who’s beloved by his people, so when news spreads of his supposed “miraculous recovery”, his return to health, the people are overjoyed.
The servants in the palace are delighted to be allowed to talk to and laugh with him again. They fuss over him for months afterwards, worrying about him pushing himself too much (and Yuuri always feels so guilty about lying to them.)
Mila and Georgi and the other nobles who had known the truth behind Yuuri’s apparent “sickness” that had rendered him bedridden for the past five years are ecstatic as well.
They’re so happy to have their friend back, and after five years of heartbreak and misery, everything is right in St. Petersburg again.
Rowan: You and Rowan switch off who gets to pick the movie every Saturday night. When Rowan picks the movie, he always goes for an action packed one about war or fighting. Then, throughout the night, he’ll point out how their strategy is faulty or how a maneuver is done wrong and should have gotten the protagonist killed. It always ends with you kissing him through the final battle just to get him to shut up.
Rhysand: He will deny it to his grave but Rhys loves chick-flicks. The two of you have watched the Notebook and 10 Things I Hate About You so many times, you both know it by heart. You always have to make sure that there is an ample supply of tissues available because, no matter what, Rhys always cries – whether they are real tears or manufactured to convince you to comfort him with cuddles and kisses, you have yet to decipher, and don’t really care either way.
Dorian: Always the bookworm, Dorian and you take movie nights as a chance to watch book-based movies. You’re not sure why, though, when every time you do, Dorian ends up grumpy because they left out his favorite part. It’s entertaining watching his expressions throughout the movie when he knows whats about to happen or when he realizes something that the director changed. Afterward, he’ll insist on staying up to read you the parts that you missed, and you fall asleep to the sound of his voice with a smile on your face.
My mafia AU. Originally, I had intended to use this line as the closing of my Mafia AU, which I am currently writing. I realised that killing Iwa off wasn’t exactly something I wanted to do so I decided to draw it instead. I promise the fanfic will have a happy ending, however no promises that there will be zero angst. So, just treat this as a one time thing, and maybe look forward to the upcoming series .
If Manon and the Thirteen were real people in our world …
- They’d be biker chics
- They have Harley’s that they would name, each tailored to for each of the women
- For Manon, her bike would be named Abraxos and it’s a bit smaller than the others and a bit more worn down. She found it at a motorcycle show and decided it was hers
- They wear black leather everything, except for Manon who wears a red leather jacket to distinguish herself.
- She took it off of the back of her first rival Chrochan kill
- The name of their club would be The Blackbeaks, but her sect would be The Thirteen
- Other rival clubs would be the Bluebloods and the Yellowlegs
- The club is trying to get back their territory from the Chrochans, another rival club
- The Thirteen is the most famous, infamous and deadly biker group out there
who is more likely to hurt the other? Jeremy ;m; who is emotionally stronger? Actually? Michael is in this AU at least who is physically stronger? Michael lol both physically and in-game who is more likely to break a bone? Jeremy have you seen that boy?? He’s a skinny little twig his bones would snap right in half who knows best what to say to upset the other? Michael since Jeremy is over emotional and Michael knows him like the back of his hand so he knows what to say to push his buttons but like? I don’t think he’d ever do that anyway who is most likely to apologize first after an argument? HECK probably Jeremy he was the first to apologize after their big fight so;; who treats who’s wounds more often? Michael both in-game with healing spells and irl because Jeremy’s a klutz so he’s always hurting himself oops who is in constant need of comfort? Jeremy ;m; He’s got a lot of PTSD-related issues and fear of abandonment after what happened with the Squips who gets more jealous? HONESTLY I’D SAY BOTH BUT IF I HAD TO CHOOSE ONE JEREMY who’s most likely to walk out on the other? Okay I’m not really sure what this question means exactly so I’d say after a fight? Michael because he’d just want to get away and cool off but they don’t even fight at all so //shrugs who will propose? BOTH OF THEM…LOL but Michael beats Jeremy to it who has the most difficult parents? ……….. ;w; who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public? MICHAEL who comes up for the other all the time? If this is referring to like…visits? Driving trips? Michael but they live in the same house now so there isn’t really a need for that ya feel (I mean Michael did drive to get him before their final fight vs the Squips but that’s the only time) who hogs the blankets? Jeremy probably who gets more sad? Jeremy… who is better at cheering the other up? Michael!! who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes? Jeremy lol who is more streetwise? Ooh man I’d have to say Michael on this one who is more wise? Honestly both of them are geniuses so? But having to do with smarts, Jeremy most likely who’s the shyest? JEREMY…SHY FAMOUS BEAN who boasts about the other more? MICHAEL DOES HOLY SHIT?? Especially after Jer got the first key he’s like “Look at my best friend he’s amazing, phenomenal, incredible, I am not worthy! He’s so smart I’m so proud of him for finding the key he’s so!! Wonderful and I’m so blessed to be able to call him my friend holy shit!” who sits on who’s lap? Jeremy sits on Michael’s lap, duh
High above the ground, there’s a kingdom in the clouds where everybody is born with wings, except for the royal heir, Character A. Feeling outcast in their own home, Character A travels to the ground, hoping to find more people like them.
Character B is an everyday person that finds Character A and teaches them about human life on the ground.
I do not suggest reading this unless you have read Tower of Dawn
This fic is in the tog universe but it is different from Aelin’s plot line. Nesryn grew up in Balruhn, her mother is a descendant of the rukhin, and the valg started in an eastern continent instead of the northern or Wendlyn. Also, shapeshifters can talk when they are in animal form.
Also, guess who you get to meet in this chapter…..
At this point, Nesryn would probably do anything for a glass of fresh, cool water, or one of the meat pies her father makes every Tuesday for dinner. With the midday sun shining directly overhead and the heavy men’s clothing clinging to her sweat soaked body, she would probably also do anything for a nice bath. Although perhaps it is best that she not have access to such luxuries, as men ought not to have clean scraped legs or smell of the lavender soap she favors.
Nevertheless, Nesryn is miserable. She has been riding along on her issued horse for three days, feeling like she has made little to no progress along the Scholars’ Road (or is it finally Sisters’-Road now?) as she attempts to make her way to Eridun. Others on their way to the Northern Desert or Antica pass her everyday, and very few times she meets a person heading to the Aerie as well. Still, the couple of times she has met a traveler of the same destination keeps her from disrobing to the much lighter and airy tank top underneath the tunic. She cannot take the chance of someone recognizing her at Eridun and blowing her cover as a woman.
But the fact that she could still have a coherent thought after the amount of booze that she had drunk was the real surprise. Or not, considering that she was drinking that same amount for two weeks now. She must be gaining at least a little resistance.
Dammit, she thought. Now she couldn’t even be drunk properly.
Aelin scanned the dance floor again while still sitting in the bar. Looking for a victim.
A young man with brown hair looking in her direction caught her attention, but she shrugged, turning her head the other way. The man was handsome, but the color of his hair reminded her of another boy, from another life.
Aelin emptied her glass, and made her way towards the dance floor.
Rowan was hunting. He’d been hunting for the past two weeks now, going in every club in town, drinking only enough to make himself less intimidating, hunting someone as desperate as him to muffle the screaming in his head with another type of scream.
Every night he found someone, and every morning that painful scream was louder, and his heart, colder. Which was perfect for his job, but not so much for his mental health.
He was surveying the dance floor, eyes skipping almost automatically any girl who resembled her even a little, when he saw someone who caught his attention.
She was dancing right in front of him, with her eyes closed, her golden hair reflecting the red light in the club, her body swaying with the music, while a boy with black hair behind her had his hands in her hips and was trying to move in the same rhythm as her. She was wearing a black skirt and a black blouse, long-sleeved but with a very, very nice cleavage. Rowan was expecting to see heels in her feet, but she was wearing black ankle boots.
Suddenly, she raised her head and opened her eyes, like she was forced back into reality. Rowan felt like he was looking in the mirror, seeing the numbness, the lack of feeling in her expression, those dead eyes.
Those eyes focalized on him, and, like she was putting on a mask, her face turned into something similar to interest, a smirk forming as she measured Rowan’s body. One of her eyebrows had raised when she finally looked into Rowan’s eyes.
And Rowan had found his prey.
If Aelin was sober, or maybe if she cared, the way that that silver haired man was looking at her would’ve sent her running.
But he was everything she was looking for at the moment. Dangerous. So handsome. And, by the look in his face, wanting to use her in the same way she wanted to use him. Maybe this guy would be able to make Aelin feel something, even if just for a few hours, even if later, she would be deeper in that abyss.
He was wearing a black jeans and a white shirt that gripped tight the muscles of his arms. As he walked towards Aelin, she appreciated the determination in his steps. People moved out of his way instantly, and his eyes kept locked in Aelin’s.
When he got closer, she noticed they were bright green. And were looking at her with such predatory intent that Aelin couldn’t help to lift her chin to face the challenge.
She hasn’t stop dancing since she saw him, but had forgotten the boy she had thought would be her company tonight. Noticing his hands still in her hips, she turned her head back.
“I think I won’t be needing you tonight.”
The guy, too wasted to understand the dismissal, or maybe simply not caring, didn’t move.
Aelin felt a flash of anger. Anger was good. Even if anger was turning as difficult to maintain as any other feeling. She grabbed the guy’s wrist and twisted. “I said… out.”
This got his attention. He pulled himself away from her, shooting her a hurt and confused look.
“What the fuck, you crazy bitch,” he said, already backing away.
Aelin gave him a fake smile.
“Thanks for the company”, she said, and turned, intending to go look for her new challenge… only to find him already standing right in front of her.
He was smirking, but his green eyes were now impenetrable. He had a tattoo covering his right arm, starting in his pulse and going up, disappearing inside his sleeve, so she couldn’t see exactly where it ended. It seemed like words, but she didn’t recognize neither the alphabet or the language.
Aelin stood still, with her hands on her hips, letting her eyes pass through his body again, slowly, up and down and up again. His eyes flashed with anger with this inspection, and his nostrils flared.
“Are you done staring?”, he shot, and bared his teeth at her. His voice was rusty, like he hasn’t talked in a while. He had an odd accent, but it wasn’t italian. Irish?
She cocked her head, pretending to think about it. “You’ll do.”
The man took another step in her direction, standing so close that she had to raise her head to face him.
“What was the problem with that boy? You’ve seemed to be enjoying yourself”, he said, his eyes examining every inch of her face, her hair.
And it wasn’t a lie. Aelin needed someone hard, cold, impenetrable. Someone who wouldn’t mind her roughness, her lack of feeling. Someone she could use and not feel guilty about it. And this man, with eyes so cold that could freeze her soul if she still had one, would be perfect for the night. Maybe, after him, she could finally start the mission she had in this godsdamed city, and move on.
Gold. Now that he was standing this close to her, he could see that her eyes were deep blue, but with rings of gold around the pupils. And the gold of her hair only accentuated such strange eyes.
To see this eyes sparkling with joy, Rowan thought, must be a sight from heaven.
Oh gods. He was starting to make eye colors descriptions. What was he thinking? He could even remember the eye color of the last woman he bedded. He needed to get done with this girl, soon and fast.
Rowan lowered his head, whispering in her ear.
“And I seem hard enough for you, blondie?” Her smell was a mix of sweat, lavender and something that remember him of fireplaces and bonfires.
“That is something I intend to find out soon enough”, she said, her voice low, but he was too occupied noticing her earlobe to continue the conversation. Strange that it was bare. Rowan would’ve expected that a girl like her would be wearing earrings, big and shiny. What would she do, he wondered, if he bit it here and now?
And, before he could measure the consequences of his action, like he was used to, he did just that.
If Aelin Galathynius wasn’t already dreadfully excited at the thought of attending Hogwarts, she definitely became so the minute she ran through the 9 ¾ barrier. Her first steps onto the platform felt like she was walking on clouds instead of the hard cement. Rhoe and Evalin, Aelin’s flustered parents, could hardly keep up with the young eleven-year-old as she weaved through the crowd - somehow maneuvering around people even with a trolley stuffed with trunks being pushed in front of her. People practically jumped out of the way as she passed, pulling children close to save them from wheels rolling over little feet.
The Galathynius’ muttered quick apologies to disgruntled parents as they rushed to catch up to their little witchling. Unfortunately, the witch and her muggle husband were too late, which they realized as soon as they saw the overturned cart in the middle of a ten foot clearing of people. Their daughter stood with her hands on her hips - a stance she was getting too good at assuming - and bickering with a white-haired young wizard who was picking himself up from the ground.
“You’re crazy!” He exclaimed, brushing off his robes - generic black, so he must be a first year without a house yet.
Aelin scoffed, gesturing towards her upset cart with a incredibly expectant expression. “Excuse me, you are the one who ran in front of my trolley like a dementor is on your heels. The least you could do is help me put it back together again.”
The sneer that overtook the boy’s face does nothing more than send Aelin’s eyes rolling. “Well, princess, I believe you are the one who was hurtling around with reckless abandon. It surely is not my fault your cart ran over me!”
“Oh, no!” Aelin cooed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Did I accidentally hurt the itty bitty baby?” She mocked.
Rhoe and Evalin finally reach their daughter, her mother barely able to contain the squirming puppy in her arms. Rhoe set a hand on Aelin’s shoulder, a firm order to stand down, as the event had begun to gather a crowd. Evalin expertly slipped the small dog into the young witch’s arms, prohibiting the girl from starting any real fight.
The wizard scowled once more, tugged on the lapels of his robe self-righteously, and stalked away towards the quickly filling up train. Aelin’s parents made quick work of reassembling their daughter’s cart, and quickly pushed her and the dog towards the luggage and animal cars. Once they had her nicely packed away, they each kissed her on the cheek.
“Please try not to get into too many fights, Fireheart,” Her mother pleaded, her eyes shining with worry for her daughter’s safety.
Rhoe’s eyes however, were shining with mischief. “At least not right away.” Aelin grinned up at her father, hugged both her parents, and made an empty promise to play nice. Her mother just shook her head.
Suddenly, three long pulls from the horn alerted the family that the train was about to leave. Aelin was pushed hurriedly towards the door, which shut promptly behind her. Leaning out the window, she waved to her parents as the Hogwarts Express began to slowly move. She waited until Rhoe and Evalin were out of sight before turning to seek out a compartment, a late decision that she soon comes to regret.
Manon barked out a laugh at the thought as she tossed back another shot of whiskey. “The only thing I can’t be is that drunk. No
matter how much whiskey you keep handing me, you’re not gonna convince me to dance.”
It had been ten minutes of this. Ten minutes of her glowing golden
eyes and flirtatious laugh and her gorgeous, bare legs pressed against his,
with her hand trailing patterns on his arm and his desperate growing need to
hold her against him and watch her lose herself in his arms.
His blue eyes shined as he watched her, and tossed back
his own shot of whiskey. The alcohol burned his throat, cutting through the fog
she’d created in his mind.
She leaned into him then. His heart stopped as her hand
landed on his leg, and then slowly crept up his inner thigh, closer and closer
to the growing bulge in his pants. Her breath was hot as she pressed into him,
her lips nearing his ear, and her long white braid gently tickling his arm. “I
don’t think you could handle me, princeling,” she purred, her fingers barely
grazing him – just enough to cause a choking gasp to burst out of his lungs.
His hands clenched around the arms of the chair, digging his nails into his
palms as his fingers wrapped tighter around the wood, and his knuckles turned the
color of her hair.
Author’s Summary: Mingyu leans back on the couch and cocks his head to the side, that infuriating smirk of his appearing on his kiss bitten lips. His black hair is messy and white shirt missing the top three buttons, showing off his obscene collarbones and the clear bite mark on his neck alongside a few scattered hickey’s. He opens his mouth to speak and Wonwoo immediately considers pushing the couch down the stairs.“Admit it, Jeon. You fell for me,” he says with a smile. Wonwoo takes hold of the thing closest to him, it happens to be the stuffed toy to Mingyu’s luck, and throws it at the younger, a scandalised expression on his face.“I didn’t fall for you, Mingyu. You fucking tripped me when I walked in!” (Or the one where they all live in New York; Mingyu and Wonwoo hate each other, Junhui and Minghao are something akin to fuck buddies and Soonyoung and Jihoon ignore their own issues to try and fix everyone else’s.)
Notes: Well written and the plot keeps it interesting. The format is a little like a TV show (but I think it’s supposed to be). Rich kids!au mostly.
continuation of this au where the dreemurr kids live, and asriel is crowned king and chara becomes the king’s right hand c:
i think of the goat parents getting older and get sad, but then they also get to see their kids grow up ;-; i imagine that chara would be the one who learns to fight with asgore’s trident, while asriel prefers fire magic