#yoiroyaltyweek

[yoiroyaltyweek]

Hey there! I was just wondering if you would be holding this event again in the future?

Hello, Anon!

First of all, we’re sorry it took us this long to reply. It says here you sent this a month ago, but Tumblr only alerted us to this message a couple of days ago??? Sorry about that!

Unfortunately, we don’t have any plans to hold it again, due to everyone’s fandom and irl commitments. We loved holding it, though, and are glad that others loved participating as well!

~Mod Robbie

[ayabaiii]

Eclipse

[littlestarlost]

It’s all very, very simple.

Eros straightens his shoulders and takes a dainty sip of champagne from the flute he holds. The mask he’s chosen is black, covered in beads that glitter like starlight, with blood-red trim around the bottom and flame-shaped accents across the top. His suit is equally beautiful, cut in at the waist in a frankly scandalous fashion and also trimmed in the same shade of red. The ballroom is a whirlwind of colours as men and women dance in perfect time, dressed in their absolute finest. If he relaxes his eyes, Eros finds that the entire room blurs into a stunning shifting mass of colour and light—a hypnotic, seductive invitation to abandon identity and embrace the unknown.

He takes another sip of champagne and refocuses his vision on a single dancer, dressed in a rich burgundy suit trimmed in pink and gold. Even with his matching mask, the man’s identity is as unmistakable as the white-blonde shock of his hair and the intense blue of his eyes: Prince Yuri Plisetsky, nineteen years old and heir to the royal throne. He’s taller than Eros thought he would be, but this is the first and last night that he’ll ever have to see the man, so it’s no matter.

Eros curls his fingers inward towards his wrist, gently stroking the tip of the blade that’s strapped to his forearm.

It’s a shame to ruin that suit, he thinks, but the colour will help conceal the blood for a little while.

The waltz ends, depositing Yuri and his current partner directly in front of the drinks table. Eros picks up a second champagne flute, this one full, and watches for the moment when Yuri, still distracted laughing at something his companion has said, goes to reach for the table. Instead, Eros steps in, quiet like a cat, and places the glass into the Prince’s hand.

“I—oh!” Yuri starts. “Thank you.”

Eros allows himself a small smile. “You are most welcome,” he purrs, biting back a rush of glee when he sees Yuri’s eyes widen at the sound of his voice.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Yuri says, placing the still-full champagne back onto the table.

“You can call me Eros,” he says, his voice thick and rich like velvet.

Yuri doesn’t try to introduce himself; instead he looks Eros up and down, icy blue eyes and pale skin stark against the warm tones of his costume. Finally he holds out his hand, just as the musicians strike up another waltz.

“May I have this dance, Eros?”

Eros smirks. “Of course,” he replies, and as Yuri sweeps him out to the dance floor and curls an arm around his waist he flicks his wrist, sliding his blade into his hand and then back to its holder, waiting for the right moment.

It’s all very, very simple. Eros just has to murder the crown prince tonight.

But they can do a few rounds of the ballroom first; it’s important to keep up appearances, to move in plain sight, to fit as a puzzle piece among all the other pieces settling into place. Eros relaxes into Yuri’s arms, letting himself be swept around and around, steps landing in perfect time with the prince’s own. They are a pair—a devil and an angel, in more ways than one.

Yuri leans in, his breath tickling Eros’ ear. “You are stunning,” he murmurs. “How is it that I’ve never noticed you before?”

Eros smiles, his practiced answer flowing easily from his lips. “I’m the nephew of Lady Okukawa,” he replies. “Just visiting to settle the matters of her estate.” The prince has a reputation for being curt with new people, but so far he isn’t living up to it.

Yuri hums. “Such a tragedy, for her to die so young,” he says, and Eros has to agree; it was indeed a shame that the Lady Okukawa perished as she did, stricken by a fever before her fortieth birthday, but it left a very convenient opportunity for Eros to situate himself within the trappings of Plisetsky’s court.

Now Yuri leans even closer. “I feel I should be honest,” he whispers, his voice filled with something that hints at darker pleasures and makes Eros’ eyes momentarily roll back in his head. The Prince must be in an incredibly good mood, to be flirting so shamelessly.

“That is your right, Your Highness.”

“It is,” Yuri agrees, spinning Eros out and then pulling him back in, his hand landing square at the base of Eros’ spine, yanking him in until they’re chest to chest, scandalously pressed against each other even as they don’t miss a single step of the waltz. “So I should tell you that I know you’re not Lady Okukawa’s nephew, and I also know you have a knife strapped to your back.”

Eros’ eyes fly open, and he nearly trips over his own feet, but Yuri is there to stabilize him.

“Interesting,” he eventually replies, because it is. “How did you come to this piece of information?”

And that’s when Eros feels the unmistakable pressure of a knife’s tip, held in the space between two ribs. His breath hitches, and he looks up into those blue eyes glittering with amusement, and he remembers far too late that the Crown Prince’s eyes are green.

“Because,” the man who Eros now realizes is definitely not Yuri Plisetsky grins, “I’m your competition.”

[thehobbem]

Author: thehobbem

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov

Additional Tags: Royalty AU, Arranged Marriage AU, Drama & Romance, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Sissi AU, Alternate History

Chapters: 1 / 2

Word Count: 6.8K

Summary: With an engagement arranged behind his back, Emperor Victor only wishes to have one last day for himself as a free man. But the last thing he will be is free, once he meets someone who seems to have the exact same plans, and perhaps motivations, for today.

“Um. Excuse me, sir, but I believe those are my clothes you’re holding.”

Victor turned around, jaw going immediately slack of its volition, fingers gripping the clothes that much more tightly.

The man in front of him was dripping wet from head to toe, wearing nothing but riding pants and a white undershirt — one that was entirely soaked and entirely see-through, mercilessly clinging to the man’s torso. It made sense, really, as it was a nice torso. A very nice torso. Victor could see all of it through the shirt. As someone who’d always had all he asked for, Victor had never had the chance to wish for anything, but there it was. He now wished he could trade places with a certain piece of fabric, of all things.

Read it on AO3

[dreaming-fireflies]

YOI: royalty week day one

A ficlet from my Swan Lake/Omegaverse/Crossdressing AU 

For @yoiroyaltyweek, Day 1: Balls and Masquerades 

Summary:

Yuuri recognizes him instantly.

Lights shimmer on silver hair, the warmth in his eyes dancing bright and blue behind a feathered mask. He’s dressed in full regalia—black and pink with gold trimmings and dark fur lining his shoulders—looking every inch the prince he claims to be. Whispers of who is that and oh how handsome ripple through the crowd, the men turning to him with an edge to their stares, the women smiling coyly behind their fans.

A hush falls over the ballroom as he strides up to Yuuri. Falls to one knee and presses a kiss to Yuuri’s hand.

“My runaway prince,” Viktor whispers.

Yuuri breathes. “But how…"

“I couldn’t bear the thought of you dancing with another.” 

Yuuri’s heart skips. He wants to leap into Viktor’s arms, bury his nose in Viktor’s comforting scent as he always does, but the watchful gaze of the King and Queen restrains him. Around them, his alpha suitors start to complain—something about unwanted guests and the lack of palace security—and Yuuri wonders if he should assure them that his time was theirs, or some such nonsense. But the light in Viktor’s baby blues is so warm, the curve of his mouth so soft and sweet, that Yuuri lets himself be whisked onto the dance floor without protest.

Viktor’s hand settles on his waist, while Yuuri, boldly, smooths his own up Viktor’s chest to his shoulders. Relishes in the shudder that runs under his palm. “You never fail to surprise me,” Viktor murmurs as their feet start to move in time with the music, slow and languid. 

“Says the one who shows up unannounced and uninvited,” Yuuri teases.

“Touché,” Viktor says.

They turn, slowly, gliding across the ballroom with each step. They make quite the pair, Yuuri realizes, his royal colors of white and blue a stark contrast to Viktor’s black and pink. “Will you tell me now, how you’ve changed back without a full moon?” he asks. 

Viktor squeezes Yuuri’s hand. “There is a witch,” he says.

“Never a good start,” Yuuri notes to Viktor’s chuckle. 

“She’s good of heart, or so they say.” Viktor lifts his arm and Yuuri follows, spinning. “But even Leroy’s curse is too powerful for her.” He tugs Yuuri back, flush against his chest. “This change is temporary.”

Yuuri looks up through his lashes, sadness touching his smile. “How long do we have?”

“Until midnight.” Viktor’s voice goes low and hushed, his fingers reaching up to tip Yuuri’s chin, thumb sweeping, lightly, across Yuuri’s bottom lip. “But I will always be yours. Today, tomorrow, the rest of forever.”

Yuuri can’t think. He can see Viktor’s face alight with love behind the mask, feel Viktor’s heat everywhere they touch, and suddenly, everything holding him back—family and duty and royal obligations—everything falls away, leaving only a surge of affection that swells and swells, too big for his heart to bear. 

So before his parent and suitors, before the entire royal court, he kisses Viktor, hands curling into dark fur. 

Viktor sighs. Brushes his tongue against Yuuri’s, and Yuuri parts his lips, lets Viktor in. A royal omega, initiating a kiss in the open with some masked stranger. Yuuri's certain he's broken several protocols, maybe even a few laws, but he can't bring himself to care. He likes the way Viktor feels against him: the way silver lashes caress his cheeks, the way hands rest on his hips, soft but firm. The way they fit so perfectly together, black and white, two halves of a whole.

When they part, Viktor pulls away just enough to press his forehead against Yuuri’s, his laugh gone breathless. “To think I was holding back.”

Yuuri wants to kiss Viktor again, so he does. (They've gone far beyond prudence by now.) “We've stopped dancing, ” he murmurs.

“Mmhm.” Viktor’s mouth presses against Yuuri's cheek, then the other, feathers from his mask tickling Yuuri’s nose. “So we have.”

From the corner of his eyes, Yuuri sees his family marching over. And only his sister looks amused. “I hope you’re ready to meet my parents."

Viktor cocks his head to one side, winks. “Parents adore me.” 

Yuuri laughs, light and soft. If nothing else, Viktor’s boundless confidence marks him, undeniably, as an alpha prince.

[anonbaph]

Day 4 (free: military attire) for @yoiroyaltyweek

This was playing with clothes, so don’t hope for accuracy please x_x

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[omgkatsudonplease]

Rewrite the Stars, a fic by @omgkatsudonplease​ 

In his time as an officially-licensed companion with the Interplanetary Companionship Union, Yuuri Katsuki has witnessed so many extraordinary adventures and sights. From the death of a distant star in the Paulsen system to the kaleidoscope towers of the ancient city of Hayak, the galaxy bursts forth in boundless opportunities and immense beauty for him and the crews he accompanies.

But nothing in the galaxy can ever compare to a fateful meeting at the Armistice Ball with the Crown Prince of Neva, Viktor Nikiforov.

(Space Royalty AU ficlet series written for Royalty Week)

read here on ao3 / buy me a cuppa?

[yoisoulmatezine-blog]

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