#it’s not a stabbing but it would be a dead monarch so

[ladyshivs]

All I’m saying is that, with King Chuck’s cancer diagnosis and his history of supporting homeopathic medicine, this years Ides of March has the potential to be hilarious.

[freakassfemme]

(Smut) Captain's Quarters - Yara Greyjoy x CisF!Reader

Summary: Princess Y/N, sibling of Queen Daenerys, has returned with her sister for a visit to the Iron Islands. These visits used to be more commonplace, but the two have not visited the islands since before the Battle of Winterfell. Y/N has a strong attachment to the islands, but finds her attachment has extended to its reigning monarch in a new, unfamiliar way.

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: loss of virginity, oral sex, fingering, praise kink (kinda), the works

A/N: Long time no see! I got so sick and tired of there being no reader insert for Yara that I arose from the dead with 4.2K words of yara-posting. Yara-yearning, if you will.

NO MINORS BEYOND THIS POINT

The night was surprisingly warm for the Iron Islands, and the salty mist of the beaches hung heavy in the air and clung to the sway of your hips and undone hair. Your hands clutched your silken robe shut as you leisured through the sand, a soothing waft of lavender from your recent bubble bath hitting your nose with a gentle breeze.

You paused at the base of the shore, where the brine nipped at your toes and you tilted your head back, deeply inhaling into your chest. Your eyes slipped shut.

It wasn't often you and your sister were able to visit the islands, but gods above, you had missed it. Queen Yara had earned a special place in Daeneyrs's heart after her proven loyalty to the Dragon Queen, and thus routine visits were necessary to uphold the alliance between the Greyjoys and the remaining Targaryens. Sometimes it felt like you had grown up here, and sometimes the coldness of Pyke felt more familiar to you than anything back home, despite how long it had been since you had returned.

You would never admit it, but something about the sea and the people on this particular side of the world had consumed you during all these years of visits. Something about the people's wildness and the way it mimicked the ocean that mothered the island spoke to you and whispered to you at night and danced on your eyelids in spirals and swirls.

Some other nights, when the whispers never came, you would hold a large shell up to your ear and pray. The beloved gift had always answered you with the melodic pounding of waves against rocks, against ships, and lured you to sleep. In your dreams, you would sink into your deepest desires.

In this realm, much below the surface level of what was true and probable, you would find yourself standing beside an iron throne. This was not unusual for you -- you had been born to stand behind your brother, and then readjusted to beside your sister. Your duty had always been protecting the honor of this seat and whomever presides in it, and yet this integral piece of your mind, heart, body and soul vanished in these moments, and instead, you found yourself for once atop of the throne.

Well, atop of its monarch.

Clawing at the throne, which was not particularly jagged and sharp like the one your sister sat upon, and clawing at the crowned, whose calloused hands curled inside you and rough lips whispered filthy promises to you in a voice that sounded an awful lot like

"Yara!"

You stumbled away from the shore, whose once soothing pulls had now gone ice cold and stabbed at your feet and at hem of your robe. Your hand readjusted the collar of your robe out of instinct, as your sense slowly settled, though your burning cheeks lingered a bit too long.

Turning towards the disturbance, your eyes caught on the closest (and largest) docked ship, whose windows and deck harbored light and celebration. A group of sailors and soldiers drank merrily and called for a straggling participant, who marched towards the boat and waved them off, enjoying the attention in her own way. In this moment, you were grateful that the shadows of the cliffs behind you hid your so very clearly out of place figure.

Your attention followed Yara as she boarded the ship, and despite the distance, you could make out the way they all greeted her with a clasp on the shoulder, pat on the back, or smack on the bottom. The corners of your mouth turned up at the raw, unabashed display of admiration.

Shudders ran down your back and you ignored the way your stomach turned. For a moment, you thought about heading back to the castle. Nauseatingly, you thought about knocking on your sister's door and spilling these secrets to her and beg for direction, a command, anything.

Daenerys was the closest thing you had to a mother, and the urge to crawl into her arms and wait for guidance on this troubling issue consumed you as it always had, but you were a woman now, a delicate one, but blossomed and bled nonetheless, and you had witnessed your own sister's call to these womanly urges, and it was incredibly reminiscent of this pull you felt to the Ironborn Queen.

Your mind wandered back to your arrival this morning.

"It has been so long since I've returned," you said to Daenerys as you marveled over the aged walls of Pyke. Your hand danced across the slotted stone, digging your finger into chipped areas and rubbing your thumb against the in-between space.

Daenerys smiled knowingly, hands clasped softly in front of her. Missendei, Tyrion, and Greyworm trailed closely behind.

"How long has it been?" You murmured, mostly to yourself.

"Not since before the war, my lady," Tyrion added, and you turned to him, nodding with a solemn smile.

"It has been nearly that long since I have seen the rest of the Greyjoys, as well. Not since Theon."

Tyrion and Daenerys nod respectfully, reminiscing on Theon's death and the bravery that presumed it. A small silence ensued.

"I never understood how you have adapted so well to this cold, my lady," Missendei said, sweetly cutting the silence.

"She is a dragon," Daenerys replied, reaching out to brush a bit of her sister's hair back into place. "She provides her own warmth."

The throne room was modest in size but exuberant in its carvings, luxurious enough to suggest status but rugged enough to represent the people it ruled. You couldn't help but admire it all, it being so vastly different from the outright lushness of Mereen or even Dragonstone.

Of course, the architecture was not the only thing you were interested in. You turned your attention to the throne, and immediately stopped. Your sister continued for only a few steps more, taking her place in front of you.

"Yara," Daeneyrs greeted with a warm smile.

Yara strutted forward with an unmatched level of confidence, and you couldn't help but stare at the way her leather tunic hugged her strong shoulders. You were used to Yara not dressing like any other lady you had known, but couldn't help but always think the natural defiance in her pants and boots exuded power and self-assurance. Yara looked somehow more bold and stronger than you had ever seen her, and it was admirable in an unfamiliar, indescribable way.

"My queen," Yara bowed in her own way, a half-smirk ever-present, "It is an honor."

The two clasped arms, and Daenerys smiled before turning to you.

"I'm sure you remember my little sister, Princess Y/N."

Yara's attention followed, and you couldn't help the way you held your breath and stared up at her with widened eyes. It was like you were seeing her for the first time.

"Princess Y/N."

Yara said your name like she was trying it on, but in truth she had always used formalities in this way, especially towards you. In your aw-stricken mind, you'd like to think that her gaze softened a bit. She had never looked at you like this before.

"Your return has been long-awaited."

She outstretched her hand, and you took it with both of your hands, feeling yourself relax into it. Your eyes watered a bit, and you squeezed, unable to avoid the way you beamed up at her.

"I have missed the islands dearly."

Your sister had given in to her own desires, and she had lived to tell the tale. Perhaps you would too.

The ground seemed to push you towards the ship, and by the time your eyes unglossed and you regained clarity, you found yourself standing at the base of the footway. You of course had been on many vessels that belonged to the Iron Fleet, and you knew the people on board rather well, but you couldn't help but feel nervous now. These men were rather drunk, and you knew you probably should have an escort this late. Not even status could always safeguard a lady from the hands of depravity and sin. Stupidly, you grabbed on to the ropes of the ramp and pulled yourself aboard.

Immediately the overwhelming stench of ale and piss cause you to wrinkle your nose.

"Gods above," you whispered to yourself. Though you had been quiet, the sailors very quickly took notice of your presence.

"Princess!" one called, waving at you with his mug of ale. It sloshed over the sides and splashed, narrowly missing you. The men around him jokingly scolded him.

"Come on Ravos, you don't want to ruin her dress," a dark haired, stout man called Yohn slurred.

"Don't look like she's wearing much of a dress to me."

The men turned to you once more, and your ears burned, now with a much more uncomfortable feeling as they eyed you. One coughed and shifted on his feet.

You wrapped your robe tighter, straightening yourself up like you had been taught. You narrowed your eyes slightly, and responded directly to Ravos.

"Where can I find Yara?" You asked, hoping you exuded more authority than the piece of meat you felt like.

Reacting much more appropriately, he turned and pointing towards the North end of the ship.

"Captain's quarters," he grunted, avoiding eye contact.

You nodded, and the fifteen or so men stumbled backwards to allow for a path.

Carefully you stepped over puddles of questionable substances and shards of glass, maintaining as much grace and fierceness as you could muster. Behind you, the men resumed their activities, seemingly already over the drunken encounter. You knocked once on the Captain's door, before hurriedly slipping inside, eager to escape the sailors.

As you shut the door and turned to face her, you had to carefully force out a normal respiration rate. Yara was propped up in her chair with her boots resting on the desk, holding her own stein, though her sobriety seemed much more intact.

"Hello, princess."

Yara didn't bother hiding her surprise. She set her stein down and dropped her arms to the ends of her arm rest. A smirk creeped across her face, and she leaned her head back as she very obviously eyed you up and down, legs spreading a bit for a better view. Despite her brute persona, she did seem to try to hide the way she stuttered over the V of your robe.

You noticed anyways.

"A little far from the dressing room, are we?" She nodded at your outfit. You blushed and nodded with a smile. She smiled back and sat up. "You should know better than to walk around alone at night like that, especially here."

"I'm not alone now," you replied softly. Here in the candlelight, she was able to see you fully.

Yara took notice of the way you wrung your hands together, the way your eyes were glued to the loose laces of her tunic, the rose hue of your cheeks and ears, and your long, snow-white hair falling in loose curls around you.

Yara had known you for half a decade at this point. When she first met you, you were a scrawny, timid little girl who watched from Daeneyrs's shadow. To be fair, you were still quite shy, but you were a woman now, not nearly the little bird of a lady that you used to be. Now, in the warm lighting, she could see that these days you were more of a snow leopard than a cub, and you looked almost regal.

For a moment, Yara wondered what you would look like on the throne instead of your sister. Her hands squeezed at her chair at the idea, and she concluded that that was an image that would inspire millions.

Yara's eyes returned to your face, recomposing her commanding demeanor. She shrugged and stood, traipsing leisurely towards you.

Your eyes' followed each other, studying the other until they met. Yara had never looked at you this way, not that you could recall, and the curiosity in her face sent a thrill down your spine and fueled your ego.

"Oh, but I am as much as of a predator as any man out there, princess," Yara countered.

Peculiarly, you stepped forward, taking Yara by surprise at this newfound confidence. She watched you, and noticed something lurking behind your irises, something Yara was very familiar with and could feel exuding off of your body, but ten fold. She knew why you had come.

"And I am a dragon," You murmured, meeting her eyes without hesitation. Up close, you looked even more feral than before, with the sea spray making a wild mess of your hair, and each rock of the boat interrupting your breaths.

Yara backed up to sit on the edge of her desk, and you followed, keeping the distance small but not yet close enough. Yara waited for you to make a move with unusual patience. You raised your hand to caress the open area of her shirt with your palm, then push it aside just a few inches to trace her collarbone with your index and middle finger.

"Are you scared of dragons, Yara?"

"Anyone in their bloody right mind is scared of dragons," she replied, watching your hand as her breathing grew heavy. You giggled, reaching your hand around to cup the space between her ear and neck, letting your thumb rub her jaw.

"Are you scared of me?" You spoke quietly, like it was a secret meant to be kept safe between the two of you.

"I'm hungry for you," she growled, eyes heavy with desire. You felt your core throb in an entirely new way, letting out a small whimper at the feeling.

Finally, Yara reached out, hand splaying across your lower back, where she could finally feel that the robe was the only thing preserving your modesty, and she could've fainted at the realization.

"I've never been with a dragon before," Yara confessed, halfway a joke, yet halfway entirely all too true. You brought up her other hand to truly cup her face, bring her attention to you.

"I've never been with anyone before," You whispered, and for a second Yara could see that familiar timidness she knew of you flicker between the lust clouding your vision. "You are the only person I've ever wanted."

Yara let out a small noise at this. "Then you must be starved."

You nodded, eyes falling to her lips.

"Can I?"

"Please."

The first thing Yara noticed was how warm you are. Your lips against hers were like fire, and your soft whimpers made her want to crawl inside the flames and be burnt alive. You practically fell against her, knees going week, but she grasped you with both hands and held you up.

This alone was like nothing you had ever experienced. Your ears rung from the intensity and your nails dug into Yara's skin ever so slightly, illiciting a gasp from her that you greedily swallowed.

Yara reached back with one hand, pushing herself off to stand, keeping you slotted between her legs. She turned you both, pushing you against the desk until you were sitting atop it now. You raked your hands over her shirt, grasping at it and pulling her as close as you could. Yara put her hands between you and undid the tie to your robe, hurriedly pulling it off your shoulders. She reached under your thighs, lifting you up by them and letting the robe fall on to the floor.

As Yara angled you on to the desk, you propped your arms behind yourself, baring your legs to her. She paused, staring at your bare form and licked her lips.

"Gods below," she growled, running her hands up your body. You shivered as they danced over your thighs and ghosted over your breasts. "You're fucking stunning."

Yara pushed back between your legs. The warmth of her skin against yours and the cold leather of her pants pressing against your bare sex made you moan. Yara shoved her hand back behind your back and laid you down flat.

"Such a pretty cunt," she whispered, tracing her thumb over you. You gasped at the touch, and watched as she brought it up.

"Do you know what this is, sweet girl?" Yara watched the way the wetness glistened on her finger, and you nodded your head.

She grinned, then brought her thumb to her mouth and sucked it clean. You whimpered at the sight, nearly panting now in desperation.

She leaned down to kiss to you and forced her tongue into your mouth. You moaned at the feeling and at the taste, grabbing on to the back of her head and pushing back with your own tongue. Yara groaned into your mouth and grabbed you by the neck, deepening the kiss, if that was even possible.

Yara's scent and touch and taste consumed you, feeding into every one of your senses and bleaching them until all that was left was her.

Finally, Yara put her hand against your chest and pushed you back against the desk.

"Be a good girl and open your legs a bit more for me," she commanded, and without a single underlying thought, you obeyed, gasping at the way your stomach turned at the petname. You watched with slightly parted lips, panting, as Yara sunk to her knees, staring into your eyes so intensely that you couldn't even think about looking away.

She settled between your legs and brought her hands to rest up on your thighs, just in case. You pushed up on your elbows, trying to see what she was going to do, when she pressed a firm kiss to your sex. You groaned, cheeks going pink, and Yara reacted similarly.

She kissed again, this time open mouthed, and gently sucked on your growing bud. You could feel your cunt pulsing, and your thighs quivered around Yara's head, but she held firm.

She licked stripes around your clit, teasing you before giving it a direct swipe that had you balling your fists and curling your toes.

"Yara!" You gasped, perhaps a little too loudly, because the voices outside of the room suddenly quieted. You froze, looking down at her in panic, but she didn't share the same concern.

Instead, Yara chuckled, murmured your own name against your cunt almost tauntingly, and without any warning, eased her tongue inside of you. Your whole body stuttered, and you slammed your hand against the desk. Yara gripped your legs even tighter and repeated the motion, and you couldn't find it in you to keep quiet, not with the way Yara was working you like she was eating her last meal.

"Fuck," you groaned, back arching. You head fell back, curls falling with it, and Yara swore she had never seen anything more stunning or satisfying. Yara's own cunt throbbed impossibly hard, but she continued her merciless assault, drawing curse after curse from you, until Yara was certain the men outside knew exactly what was going on and with whom.

Yara stood and pulled your hips closer to the edge of the desk. Holding you by your hips, she rocked her hips against your core, and you gasped at the new sensation. You grabbed her shoulder, holding yourself up.

Yara cradled your face with one hand, and you buried yourself in her arm, ear pressed against her chest, whining and whimpering. She pressed kisses into your neck, nipping at it and bruising it. Slowly, Yara stopped her hips, and just as you started to get question it, she spoke.

"You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?" She teased, and you cried out, nodding desperately into her arm. Yara laughed, and then when you felt her middle and ring finger prodded at your entrance, you clenched down, gasping.

"Relax, sweetheart," she whispered, kissing right behind your ear. "I'm going to take good care of you."

You shuddered against her, but tried your best to settle down. Yara started pushing in again, and you clenched again out of instinct, this time clamping down on her fingers. She groaned into your ear.

"You're so tight," she whispered, and you pulsed around her fingers, whining. Once she was entirely inside, Yara curled her fingers, and your whole body reacted.

Your legs wrapped around her, holding her in place, and your fingers dug into her lower back while you saw stars. You bit down on her arm, at least still attempting to keep quiet, and Yara moaned loudly. When you finally loosened you grip on her arm, she pulled your face back by your hair.

"Does that feel good?" She whispered against your lips, and you panted, pressing kisses between each breath.

"Yes, y-yes," You cried out, and she pressed a knowing kiss to your temple.

"I'm going to move them," she warned, and you nodded, eyes glassed over and lips parted. She kissed your fiercely, then held eye contact as she started pumping her fingers. You groaned loudly, then started moving your hips to meet her hand. As your body adjusted to the foreign feeling, you grew confident.

The sound coming from it was obscene, and you pulled Yara down to sloppily kiss her. Yara pushed harder, and so did you. Soon, you developed a rythym, and you could feel a pressure building up in your stomach. Yara glanced down at her hand, then back up at you, eyes unbelievably filled with even more lust. You followed her gaze and practically melted at the sight.

Thick, hot cream spilled out of you and on to Yara's hand, and gods above, her hand was huge. Her palm practically framed your whole cunt, and the sight made you dizzy.

Yara flicked her thumb over your clit, and you choked, grabbing her neck to hold you up from falling backwards. Your whole spine tingled, and your vision started to blur.

"Y-Yara, I'm," you gasped, but you weren't entirely sure what was going on. "I'm, I think I'm gonna -"

"Cum, sweetheart," Yara groaned. "You're going to cum for me." She pumped her fingers harder, and you sobbed into her arms, feeling your stomach ball up tighter, tighter, tighter, and then burst.

You screamed into her shoulder as your cunt gushed over her hand, and Yara moaned your name into your ear at the feeling. Your hips stuttered, but Yara kept pumping until you were shaking uncontrollably and babbling nonsense. Then, she eased out of you.

She tilted your head up with one hand, then brought the other soiled one between the two of you. You looked up with watery eyes and red cheeks, and watched as Yara licked your cum off of a few of her fingers. Then, she prodded your lips with the remaining two, and you opened your mouth, accepting it gratefully.

You pushed her fingers farther and farther down your throat, chasing that high and letting the bittersweet flavor swirl and cloud your taste and mind. You looked up at Yara through wet lashes, and she swore she could've creamed herself.

"Fucking hell," she groaned, and pulled her fingers out of your mouth, worried you'd probably suffocate yourself on them if she let you work at them any more.

You coughed and gasped, and regained your breath just before she pressed a firm kiss against your mouth. When she pulled away, you stared at her with wide eyes and she panted down at you. You couldn't pull a single word to say off your tongue.

She kissed your temple, then the side of your head, and rested her forehead against yours. "Gods below, are you sure that was your first time?"

You nodded breathlessly, swallowing thickly.

"You fuck like a-"

"- I want to do it again."

Yara pulled back, studying your face. Her face was expressionless, and for a moment during the silence, you were worried you had angered her, or somehow shamed her skill. Then, the corners of her mouth curved into a smirk.

"You want to do it again?" She asked, tilting her head until her lips were almost slotted against yours. You nodded your head.

"Is that okay?" You asked, no shyness left to spare.

Yara laughed loudly and kissed you. She stepped away, running her hands through her hair.

"Yes, fucking absolutely," she assured. She reached down and grabbed your robe. "But not in here, I have other things to show you."

You quickly got dressed. Your body shook, so Yara helped you with it extensively, and kept you steady. You looked up at her quizzically. "Other things like what?"

She grinned wickedly before pulling you up into her arms, one arm under yours and the other under your knees.

"You'll see, princess," she assured.

In her brutish style, Yara kicked open the door to her quarter's. The soldiers remaining on deck went absolutely silent, staring at the two of you with both terrified and amused expressions.

Yara coughed loudly and you buried your face into her shoulder to hide your embarrassment.

"If you gentleman will excuse me, me and the lady are going to retire for the night."

[braxiatel]

of love and loyalty

(read on AO3)

Martyn is going to betray Ren. 

Martyn is smart. This world - whatever it is - is every man for himself. 

Ren is caught on the idea of another sort of world, a home that is becoming a distant memory, where most of their enemies call him friend. He dreams of trade emporiums and prosperous nations. 

Martyn knows better. He plans to survive this thing, and it is obvious that one day Ren is going to become dead weight. 

But even so. In the light of the fire, Ren’s eyes spark just so, and the first fall of snow in autumn looks like diamonds in his hair and makes his smile all the brighter. 

Martyn could betray Ren. There is a blood-stained axe in his hand, and the newly crowned king stands naked before him. It would be no harder than it was the first time. 

He knows that to be a lie the moment he thinks it. It would be harder, but only a little, because killing the man he loves was already just shy of impossible. 

He gives himself over. Dies twice for the banner of a king he believes in fully. Tells himself he might still leave and knows better. Takes the man into his arms and his bed when they cannot tell the snow from the ash in the dead of night. 

Dogwarts falls, her king with her, and Martyn is entirely lost to it. The dirt is no fitting grave for a king, and Martyn does not stop to think that this is the one chance he has to escape their burning city. With Ren’s name on his lips he charges into an impossible battle.

An arrow pierces his heart, and he dies for a dead man. There is meaning in it, still. 

–

Martyn is going to betray the Southlands. 

Martyn is smart. This world - just like the last - is every man for himself. An alliance of five is tenuous and dangerous, and Martyn refuses to be the one to die to prove it. 

Ren is there too. Not the blood-crowned king, but a knight eternally devoted to a monarch fighting for a doomed fort. Well, imitation is the most sincere form of flattery. 

He cannot help but fall in love with Mumbo. There is something familiar in the way the sunset shines in his hopeful eyes and in the sincere naivety of betrayals to come when he kisses Martyn. 

But he knows better than to put all of his eggs in one basket, this time. He forges ties in the dark, and when the Southlands fall, he goes the only place he ever could go: to Ren. 

In the chaos of it all, They come to him. Whisper secrets and truths about the world he thinks he has always known consciously or not. It is every man for himself. There is no escape. If they are supposed to love, it is only to lose. 

It ends the same way it did last time: forts fall, alliances break, and Ren and Martyn both lie dead in the dirt. 

It ends differently: this time they meet on the battlefield as enemies rather than allies. The way they dance around each other in combat is only flirting, in the same way Black Heart Altar was a wedding. 

While he breathes his last he hopes against hope Ren will win this one. 

— 

Martyn has no allies to betray. 

Martyn is smart. This world - the last in a long row - is every man for himself. 

Except it isn’t. Isn’t supposed to be, anyway. That isn’t Their will. 

He thinks he could have loved Cleo, if they’d let him. Cleo’s mind is sharp, and they have no illusions about what sort of game this is. In one world she loved entirely and died anyway, in another her love was rewarded with nothing but betrayal. 

There are a lot of ways to be soulmates, and at least the two of them respect each other. 

The heart wants what it wants, though, and just as he cannot stop thinking of Cleo, his mind strays to his previous lovers. 

To Mumbo, who died so early and has not returned. Was he not enough fun for Them? Did he escape? Or did getting stabbed in the back by someone he loved just as much as Martyn break something in him that means he is gone for good?

And Ren. He has gotten smart about these games, Martyn notes, when he overhears him telling BigB how he plans for the two of them to survive. No more thriving nations, but a home that will scare off anyone but the two of them. 

That may have been his undoing. 

If his soul is Cleo’s, his heart belongs to Ren, and when the two of them find each other in the dark he cannot help but take the hand that reaches for him. 

He keeps the other at arm’s length nonetheless. Trusts him, but does not let himself care the way he once did. When red eyes meet his and vows not to hurt him Martyn smiles but promises himself not to turn his back on Ren for too long. 

It makes it easier when Ren does die, or at least so Martyn tells himself. If he loves he loses and when he loses They win. 

At the end it is him and Cleo after all. Her hand brushes his before they go into battle and he knows it’s as close to love as they were ever going to get. 

Can he really blame them for still being loyal to Scott after all this time? 

Their bond kills him before he has a chance to find an answer.

– 

Martyn is going to betray Scott. 

Martyn has always been foolish. This world - the last he hopes - is every man for himself, and it is only now he truly understands that. 

Scott knows it too. It is in how he cannot begrudge Martyn for walking away to chase his boogie kill, and in how he does not blame Martyn for chasing the time Scott’s last moments on green offer. 

There is no love in this world, no lovers. 

Scott is cold and so is Martyn, the spark between them not enough to rekindle what was lost. He takes what he can get away with, gives as little of himself back as he can. When he catches himself admiring the red in Scott’s eyes and the sharp row of teeth in his mouth, he runs off and does not return until he is certain his head will win against his heart once more.  

Unguided, the hand does what all hands do in this game and stains himself in blood. 

He was once a knight, a man of honour, who lay down his life for his love, in a world that ended with its last survivors offering each other the kindness of dying by the warm hand of another rather than the cold steel of a blade. 

That was a long time ago. 

Martyn betrays Scott. 

Martyn wins. 

They win too and Martyn loses, anyway.

[grimtermemeing]

No Context, Only Chaos

“Just cronch them like a children’s flintstones vitamin.”

“ME WANT BITE–”

“I sense you have some pent up aggression you need to let out. I recommend activities involving fire and/or sharp, pointy objects.”

“I’m bout to give you 500 ccs of Communicate Like A Person”

“You’re supposed to be able to press [G] and it just takes your clothing- I mean armor- off!”

“Hey, the mushrooms are back!”

“My mom abandoned me!”

“Your mom is downstairs, chill out edgelord.”

“I mean eating all the brownies is a good excuse for not being able to find them.”

“scree?”

“No thoughts only press glowy buttons and run out of bad.”

“no no no no no no, no thank you, no thank you!” to the tune of the benny hill theme

“Balls balls balls balls balls balls balls!”

“So you’re going to join me in chanting aaaand I’m dead.”

“If this cold could stop colding, I’d be appreciative.”

“Yeah no shit it’s World of Darkness! It’s like a voidsents asshole!”

“Iiiiit’s supercalifragilisticexpialiFUCK THIS!”

“Yar har fiddle-dee-fuck you.”

“World hard and cold. Floor cold and harder.”

“Why are you just STARING at me? What did I do to offend you?”

“You are literally made of moss. You’re just a stack of moss in a trenchcoat. A mosscoat.”

“Oh no, you said it. Now you owe the kitty the tribute of… poultry.”

“I’m about to bonk you with the empty paper towel roll of SELF-CARE, DAMMIT!”

“he deserves to be naughty kitten’d”

"today on [x] and [y] are watching the group chat with popcorn..."

"HIS SOURCE IS HE MADE IT THE FUCK UP."

"cauliflower you say. So. If we succeed in killing it. We eat like monarchs"

"words! get yer words!"

"words!!! omonomnom"

"next person I hear about going on a walk alone is getting yanked back to Amaurot and put on blast by Emmerololth."

♪ someone gets stabbed ♪

"How to die in one easy step: drive that"

"Keep talking like that and I'll even meow for you."

"So started the great debate on how exactly a falafel stone would be created"

"UNSHRIMP YOUR BACK"

[vortship]

@crownfly this time i FIXED IT I PROMISE

"I don't even know you're real name." Hal stated flatly, "All I know about you is you're evil and you like butterflies and hate some sad science man."

Needless to say, she had no plans on calling anyone mom. Not that it would have been so much a compliment if she did. To her 'Mom' or 'Ma' was the woman who died grotesquely slumped over the universe's most comfortable couch, her visage burned into Hal's memory. For anyone to go by that moniker, it meant acknowledging what she'd done to the first person to wear it.

No. Dr. Girlfriend it is.

"Is... that what you're supposed to do?" and Hal was legitimately asking, because she had no idea, "I dunno, my real parents didn't do that." they didn't do much of anything when compared to these expectations Monarch seemed to be putting on himself, then becoming frustrated when he was unable to meet them.

She took a juice box from him with a slight chuckle, serious as this seemed to be it was kind of funny. She stabbed the straw through and took a few sips, fingers idly tapping against the cocoon's roof.

"I didn't run away. I was right there the whole time. They just had... other stuff going on, y'know? That's not- I mean it can't really be their fault, right? Ma was real sick, Dad had his gang- kinda like you with your henchmen only uh, I guess his arch 'nemesister' was everyone. I didn't even know he existed until Ma was already dead." Hal shrugged, hugging her knees, the topic itself causing a slight tremble,

"They all just let me do... whatever, I guess. And why not? That's an easier way to parent than... whatever you guys are trying to do."

[nonuggetshere]

No masterpost yet, So can you give me a rundown on the usurper au? No offense, But it looks like one of those average "PK suffers, Radi gets happy ending (or at least, victory) thrown at her without earning it" aus.

And I know that sounds weirdly specific, but it is way more common than you think.

The latter two bits of the ask feel unnecessarily mean, but I'm just going to assume you didn't mean any harm

And it is sort of like that? But it mostly focuses on Hollow and their feelings while Radiance takes more of a backseat role, a metaphorical devil on their shoulder

A short rundown of the main AU is basically; Hollow is sealed as normal, and throughout a few years Radiance's been manipulating them intending to make them turn on their father. She dug and dug at their psyche until she unburied their deep-seated resentment and hurt and brought it to the surface. They eventually break and agree to make a deal with her, to take revenge on their father, they break out of their shared prison and storm the palace, dispatching the five great knights before chasing down their father, who refuses to fight back once he realises they're not being controlled by the Radiance. They use him as bait to get their mother too, and while they originally intended to kill them they find themself unable to and simply poison them with void to keep them weak and throw them in an improvised cell. They exile the knights and make a show of stripping Lurien of his Watcher title, and are crowned shortly after. After a week they take pity on their parents and secretly get them out and lead them to the howling cliffs, telling them to get out and never return, which is merciful in their eyes since Radiance very much would just prefer them dead. The two exiled monarchs eventually meet up with the knights and Ze'mer's lover who left with them, and the 8 of them travel together for a while, but after everything that happened the knights lost some of the loyalty and respect they had for the two monarchs and the two's relationship hasn't been the same since, so eventually PK decides to split off and just settles down somewhere alone. WL eventually leaves the group as well, choosing to root herself down somewhere while the knights move on. Meanwhile, Hollow has to deal with trying to repair the very shaky relations between Hallownest and the other tribes after they overtook the kingdom, navigating this complicated political web with their only ally being ready to stab them in the back if it ever becomes convenient. They eventually establish themself as a good ruler and manage to gain some support, making up with Monomon, somewhat with Lurien and even developing a parental bond with Herrah. At one point, years later, they decide to seek out the old knights as they came to regret their rash decision to exile them, and in the process, they stumble onto PK who seems apologetic and helps them track them down. I've also been toying around with the idea of PK taking in Ghost and raising them, in his mind trying to make up for his mistakes, and also Hollow creating a construct/child to help them get rid of Radiance for good, in a way repeating history and deluding themself into thinking it's fine because they still treat her like a child (though they eventually snap out of it and just name her their daughter, and nothing else. No more training to kill god). Still working on stuff that happens later.

Sorry if it's not very comprehensible, I got hit with sudden fatigue when writing this.

[jacedified]

SUMMIT PT 2 LIVE REACTION

wdym u can explain eventually

TELL HIM VINCE- i-

WILLIAM ORDERED U but like why tho

ok porter i love u MWAH

SOLAIRES STAND AS ONE NATION UNDER GOD INDIVISIBLE whatever whatever

ALEXIS GET UR SHIT TOGETHER

period alexis

i would love a game of clue rn

shes not wrong abt the wrinkles

LEX??? WTF AYE Lex VINCENT WTF DO U MEAN LEX

sweethearts safe and sound BLESS 😭

GIRL ATP I NEED U TO SPEAK IM TO ANXIOUS FOR SILENCE

milo bby its ok OUR POOKIE IS OK

asher smooch MWAH ily be safe

yea davey king dead happened while u were in negotiations

PUSH THEM AWAY???

DAYYYUMM ofc they didnt get to see who did the murder DAAAMMNIT

idky but evacuate the dance floor is playing in my head

(EVACUATE THE DANCE FLOOR DOO DOO DOO DOO IM ADDICTED TO THE SOUND) ((i forgot the lyrics))

aww another trusting moment between the men

PORTER CMERE BABES

yeah tell him asher

GET HIS ASS

PORTERR ill-

GET HIM ASHEERRRR

im crying i have tears in me eyeballs yall i cant

SPEAK SIR

ok thats true but like why did u send SH in there right before u knew he was gonna die????

DID I HEAR HEARSAY

true i cant handle a war rn and lovely shouldnt be spending their first year fighting on behalf of a clan they just became a part of

porter if ur not spinning then why do u look like a ballerina rn?? hmm?? EXPLAIN

YEA BUT THE NUDGE WAS DONE KNOWING SOMETHING WOULD HAPPEN A LITTLE HEADS UP WOULDVE BEEN FUCKING NICE

lets go crazy crazy crazy till we see the sun

the department is right there.. in sweetheart form

BLOOD FIRST??? oh yeah vampire clan rules blah blah i remember this being mentioned during quinns little moment

WHO TF IS SPEAKING?? alexis? GIRL THATS NOT U SPEAK LIKE NORMAL

OH THE MONARCH IS SPEAKING i was lost

baas? bahs? someone spell this for me i wanna kiss her SORRY yall

BOYS JUST KEEP UR WOLFY HANDS DOWN

. . . yeah shes not wrong solaire and friends should probably sit out

MILO ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS

as if you care princely pop..

OH- TELL HIM ALEXIS clock him

oooooh???

alexa play ash by seventeen

well william aint here rn hes got other rich people duties

i hope SH is like stupidly staring at alexis the way i would be

so ur saying u left him alone before he died

HE DIDNT SAY? mf u were pestering abt funding just say he was annoyed w u

LEAVE WILLIAM ALONE HES BUSY (this is my sticking up for my 500 something yr old bby daddy)

well thats just hearsay princely poo

oh- AYE ADAM DESERVED IT CUNT!! (no he didnt i love him but yes he did)

YEAAAA TELL HIM

thank u porter poo

yea … christopher

they were fighting vincent for the most part so alibi CHECK

sorry monarch we didnt mean to kil- i mean let the king die without notice.. ill let u know next time

THEY FOUND SOMETHING YAALL

MORE TO THE STORY??? omg OH SHIT demon blood on a letter opener is crazy

so someone stabbed my other future husband with a letter opener

SHE CALLED ASHER PUP i love the monarch

OK MONARCH I WAS JUST COMPLIMENTING U GOD DAMN IT BE NICE

ok maybe david was a little silly asking that question but u cant expect him to know everything

so basically what im hearing is a demon was involved only ppl who closely align with empowered and demons would the house of bennett and their relationship with closeknit

CHRISTOPHER U LYING SACK OF SHIT WE CAUGHT U

ONE OF U OLD BAGS CALL ANOTHER SHAW PACK BOYS A DOG AND YOULL BE ON THE NEXT BEHEADING LIST

exactly someone got caught lacking after killing the king and didnt think to fuckin check themselves before letting the king be found

period porter.

i would retype all of this but shes just speaking fact so i dont need to take note of any of it

YOU GAVE HER THE POWER TO DO SO DUMBASS

ANOTHER DEATH??? damn both kings dead during the summit is wild

yeah milo my mind is kinda blown

NO MORE MONEY FOR CLOSEKNIT WOOT WOOT NO MORE MONEY CLOSEKNIT WOOT WOOT

vincent im too mentally unstable for an “are you alright lovely”

I REMEMBER IT BEING SPELLED BAAS so monarch baas is very right

NO HES JUST A BBYGIRL HE DONT KNOW NOTHIN

help “with any luck it wont be the last” shes so real for that

YES MAAM THIS WILL BE REPEATED TO KNOW ONE LOVE U HAVE A WONDERFUL REST OF UR SUMMIT *bow bow*

vincent listen i love u but like shes right we just have to keep it pushing

PORTER VINCENT TALK TIME lets gooo

IM EXCITED FOR PT 3

[lighthandcd]

@widowedqueen; for luken to pay logan a nightly visit

as much as luken knew about the secret passageways around the castle, some far too unstable to be safe, some extremely useful to move around the castle unseen; including the ones to the royal's bedchambers — the very same that could have been used by an intruder to murder king morris, the very same that had been thoroughly investigated upon discovery of the heinous act — it would have been unwise to take them now. so luken found himself at the doors to the queen's room, flanked by guards at each side. he acknowledged them before resting his clenched fist against the wood, debating with himself at his current course of action.

it was hardly unusual of him to be here, though usually there tend to be more than one person behind the door. morris, logan and him, the three of them would occasionally imbibe in spirits behind close doors where they could be friends first and foremost, king, queen and hand, second; discussing anything under the night sky, from inconsequential things like the latest city gossip to things that could not be said in council company. he had a bottle of wine in one hand, missives in his pockets — though he was certain one would be forgotten in favour of the other.

two weeks was a long enough wait. the queen surely needed some comfort and distraction at this time, someone to vent to, someone to cry on. it wasn't all selfless on the hawitt lord's part. no, luken knew it was a betrayal of sorts against his recently deceased friend and king but he'd been harbouring thoughts of both the carnal and romantic nature about the dead monarch's wife behind his — both their — back(s) for years now. something that could never be acted upon. occasionally, he felt a stab of jealousy in his heart when he had to depart this very room knowing what was about to transpire between the two royals.

he shook his head then, dispelling all such thoughts from his mind before he knocked once. twice. then twice again. finishing it off with another a second later. his special knock that served to announce his presence without words.

[nonbinarycrap]

Another part! It's an update, and the backstory has been told! Also, quick a/n, I'll be using feminine pronouns(ex: princess and shit idk) for Tayei since I'm getting tired of just calling them heir.

Also, just to say this might have some bloody scenes, so, tw for that

It was another day that Tayei decided to run off in the halls. Kabu kept following them around, being the loyal guard he was. However, this day was rather special. It was a day it was their birthday. The royal family had thrown a party for the heir, who was coming of age and would soon inherit the throne.

The townspeople had flocked to see the future monarch of the kingdom. The day was fairly bright, and the clouds were white as cotton. Tayei was gifted many presents by the townspeople, although not many had actually brought the heir gifts, but they didn't mind. They just loved the company of their future subjects.

Tayei spotted a few townspeople who had seemed unfamiliar, but they brushed it off, assuming that the townspeople had welcomed newcomers.

Tayei was simply glad their future subjects had come to celebrate their birthday. The only day when they become a fully fledged adult in their kingdom.

The newcomers were all robed, and their faces were hidden from the light. They were all hovering around the royal heir. Tayei brushed off the worry they had. However, Kabu seemed to growl at the robed figures. He was more aggressive than usual.. This worried the princess.. They tilted their head at Kabu.

"Kabu, are you ok?" They asked, worried. He didn't respond as the kobold bared his fangs at the robed figures.

The robed figures then suddenly began approaching Tayei discreetly.. The figures had their hands in their robes, grabbing something under the cloaks.

Tayei suddenly felt something grazing their cheek and a loud thud to echo from next to their ear.

In that moment, everything went to hell. Townspeople screamed as Kabu suddenly grabbed his sword and swung it at the robed figures who.. turned out to be assassins. The assassins were all found out, and one lunged at Tayei.

Kabu immediately turned his focus to the one closest to Tayei and bit down onto the assailant. Different guards ran out to protect the royals as the assassins ran through without mercy, cutting down any guard that stood in their way.

Many guards were injured during the process as townspeople ran from the palace grounds. Kabu stuck close to Tayei, keeping them behind him as he held them close in his arms protectively.

One of the assassins had spotted the two and took their chance, charging at the two and stabbing through Kabu. Tayei was unharmed as their eyes widened at the large blade going through their guard's torso.. Kabu collapsed onto the ground with Tayei as the heir froze in shock. The assassin yelled at the other two that the heir and kobold were dead. Then the assassins retreated, fleeing the kingdom..

Tayei stared up at the sky, their expression frozen into a wide-eyed shock. Tears pricked their eyes as they held onto their best friend's body. His body.. his fluffy body had slowly gone cold as time passed.. The blade had only grazed their side, and the throwing knife had only cut their cheek.. the king and queen were relieved to see their child ok.. but their eyes were filled with grief for Kabu...

*****

Another part done, yayy...

ALSO, I'M SO SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO POST THIS UNFINUSHED!!!

[nightspires]

After seeing the clip of the boxing match in 1x08 from the trailer, I couldn’t get the idea of Rose and Dimitri having an argument about the trials, layered by all the angsty goodness of what happened in 1x07, out of my head. So, here you go:

“Please tell me you’re not actually going to fight for Tatiana?”

Rose finds Dimitri after his name was announced alongside hers. The two of them will face one another in the trials to decide the next monarch of the dominion. Even while actively avoiding Dimitri, she can’t seem to escape him. If she was pious, she might think it was through some sort of sick excuse for divine intervention — but as it is, she’s pretty sure she just has terrible luck. 

It’s dark, Dimitri is outlined in moonlight, his arms crossed. Tall and broad and stoic, as ever. His jaw clenches. He takes a measured breath before responding.

“Yes, I am,” he confirms. Nothing more, nothing less. 

“Why?” Rose crows, anger bubbling to the surface. “Why would you agree to that?”

Dimitri uncrosses his arms, letting them hang by his side.

“For the same reason you agreed to fight for Victor.”

Rose actually laughs. He can’t be serious. She’s known Victor most of her life. He’s looked out for both her and Lissa. He is a good man. He would be a good king. 

“That's not the same at all, and you know it,” she says, venomous.

“I know you like to think you’re above it all, Rose, but you’re not. We don’t make the decisions here. The moroi do.”

Rose feels a stab of irritation, sick and tired of everyone around her telling who she’s supposed to be, how she’s supposed to feel, what she should be doing with her life. She doesn’t get to make many choices about her future. The one thing she really wanted for herself — the one thing she has ever ached for this much — is beyond reach. Even if he’s standing right in front of her.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Rose cries, taking a step closer. She’s in his space now, close enough she can almost feel his warmth. She has a flash — a dark night, a warm embrace. It’s all gone now. 

There’s nothing left of what they were except this painful awkwardness between them.

“Rose, I—” Dimitri starts, but Rose cuts him off.

“You can’t do this, Dimitri. Tatiana is the worst. She’ll set us all back a hundred years. She’s the reason Mikhail is dead.”

Dimitri’s eyebrows snap together, a tick of annoyance. The first crack in the glass. 

“You think that I want to fight for her? That I have a choice in the matter?” Dimitri asks, frustration lacing his words.

Of course this all comes down to choice. 

When they first met, Dimitri had been buttoned up. He was closed off, and he liked it that way. A dutiful guardian, through and through. She could never get a read on him, and she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to.

But in the months since he unceremoniously tackled her to the ground (which, rude, by the way), Rose had started to recognize his tells. When Dimitri crosses his arms, frustration roils off of him. A roll of his eyes tells her that he’s exasperated — either at her, himself or a situation. When he clenches his jaw, Rose wants to kiss him. She’s pretty sure he wants to kiss her when that happens too. 

One thing Rose is painfully familiar with is Dimitri’s sense of duty. His fear of losing control. It shows in his careful gaze, the way he chastises her when she pushes the boundaries a little. She has weeks of wanting so badly her chest feels like it’s going to break open to show for Dimitri’s inability to ever choose something for himself.

She’s tired of it.

“Of course you have a choice! We all do. This place has you and everyone in it so fucking brainwashed,” Rose barks.

Dimitri’s eyes soften for a moment. His gaze roaming Rose’s face. When he speaks, his words are soft, muted. Almost pleading. 

“What would you have me do, Rose? Turn her down?”

“Yes!’ Rose insists. “You turn her down. You have to turn her down.”

Dimitri shakes his head, rolling his eyes ever so slightly.

“You want me to say no to the potential future queen of the dominion? A woman who, as you well know, is no friend to dhampirs? And certainly not to those that go against her.”

“If you wanted to do it, you would,” Rose says. 

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yes. It is that simple,” she replies. Rose hesitates for a moment. Then lands her killing blow. Drives her stake home. “You just don’t want to try. Which seems to be a pattern with you.”

Dimitri flinches, like he's been stung. His voice is low and measured. He's angry now. “Rose, not all of us have the luxury of a princess' favour. It's not up to me."

He's lost, Rose thinks. Everything she saw in him locked away, hidden behind a glass of fear and duty and fucked up morality. It hurts to look at him.

“Save it, comrade. I’ll see you in the ring. Maybe then you'll listen."

[slvault]

Post-Time Travel Recovered Memories AU [Pt.5]

[Last]

The first thing Zhigang did after he remembered everything was quit his job with extreme prejudice. It would've been a lot more satisfying to do it to his boss' face, but it was also four in the morning so he made do with a vindictively scathing email instead. Then he packed his bags, booked the first available flight to South Korea, and now here he is, ignoring all calls and emails from his boss as he sits in the airport with a coffee in one hand and waits for the aforementioned flight to be called.

He wonders idly if he should've slowed down and considered his… response to all this time travel business more carefully. Well, not the quitting part; he'd wanted to quit for years, possibly since the day he was first hired. He just hadn't been motivated enough to go through with it before. But no amount of money is worth the overtime, the drudgery, and the incompetence he'd had to put up with at the company. And it hadn't even been that much money. Pocket change compared to what he'd made as a Hunter.

 He glances absently down at his hands, wrapped around his drink and soaking up the warmth. He misses the weight of his swords and the surge of his mana, feels almost naked without them, or like he's lost a limb, and all the more so when the last thing he'd been doing in that other future was fighting the onslaught of monsters coming through yet another Gate in the sky, this time nowhere near as empty as the first one. Sung Jin-Woo would've been a major help right then, but unfortunately, he'd been busy dealing with an even more troublesome monster a continent away.

 People had been dying all around him, Hunters and civilians alike. Zhigang had done his best to buy as much time as possible for them to run, but he'd known it was a losing battle even then. He'd hoped that maybe the Gates would all close once Sung Jin-Woo managed to kill the leader, and while the situation still wouldn't be ideal after that, what with so many monsters already ravaging their planet, at least there would be an end to them eventually. So Zhigang had kept it up, kept fighting, kept cutting down everything that wasn't human, because it was what he was good at and what he could do, and he'd waited for Sung Jin-Woo to win because if anybody could pull through, it would be him.

 The next thing he'd been consciously aware of was waking with a splitting headache and dimly connecting his surroundings with the life he'd had before becoming a Hunter. He’d spent the rest of the week slotting two timelines together in his dreams every night before tumbling through a last set of memories that had illustrated both the endless pointless war between the monsters that Sung Jin-Woo had spoken of - two sides with too much power and too much time on their hands, in Zhigang's opinion - and the rise and fall and rise again of the Shadow Monarch, the details of which had finally concluded the most convoluted history lesson he has ever had the pleasure of sleeping through in his entire life. Any of his lives.

 It's been a hell of a week, and Zhigang can fume at the injustice of the Earth getting forcibly embroiled in a war that has nothing to do with them, or he can mourn the lives of his guild members and countrymen because they might not be dead now but they had died, or he can even worry about whether or not Sung Jin-Woo has already left to confront the monsters that have more or less successfully ended humanity eight times.

 But they're all largely unproductive options to pick from at this point, none of it makes a single bit of difference to his current situation, and if Zhigang is honest, all the things he wants to do really just boils down to one specific desire - he really, really wants to stab a Monarch in the face. And in order to achieve that, he needs his mana back, and he needs Sung Jin-Woo to take him with him when he goes to war.

 That's all the reason Zhigang needs to get himself to South Korea. To that end, a fast response is only natural, and anything less is a waste of time. Slow and careful are for those too indecisive to know what they want, and Zhigang has never been that.

 He'll find Sung Jin-Woo one way or the other, even if it means knocking on every door and shadow in South Korea. After all, giving up has never been something he knows how to do either.

 The boarding call for his flight blares overhead. Zhigang rises to his feet.

 Time to go.

 -0-

 "Thomas, where are you?! You should be training right now! The match is tomorrow and you've been off your game all week!"

 "I'm busy, just cancel it."

 "Can- what?! Do you think you own the UFC? We can't just cancel-"

 "Then forfeit it."

 "Thomas! It's the semifinals, stop being crazy-"

 "I really don't give a shit. I'm busy, quit bothering me, goodbye."

 Thomas hangs up, and then he turns his phone off for good measure. God, he forgot how annoying his manager was. He misses Laura already, and he only just remembered her properly an hour ago.

 He glances at his watch, then scrolls through the flight listings again, counting hours in his head as he narrows his choices down to the few that would let him land in Korea tomorrow around noon. Fucking time zones. Fucking lack of a private jet. But there's no point getting there in the middle of the night. Go Gun-Hee's an old man; he probably needs his sleep.

 Of course, Go Gun-Hee wasn't his first choice, but Thomas has already tried Sung Jin-Woo's cell number and gotten a generic voice message in Korean informing him that it wasn't in service for his efforts. Which makes sense - it has been ten years, plus he remembers rather belatedly that Sung Jin-Woo is only… fourteen? Fifteen? At the moment. Some kids that age don't even have phones yet. Thomas didn't.

 So he's had to go for the next best approach and just aim for the Korean Association's Chairman. Thomas definitely doesn't have his cell number, but everybody's heard of Go Industries, and Thomas will dance in front of their security cameras to get himself a meeting if he has to. It doesn’t seem likely for Thomas to be the only one aside from Sung Jin-Woo to remember, so maybe it's all S-ranks, or maybe it's Hunters who've come into contact with Sung Jin-Woo himself. Either way, the old man meets both requirements so he should have regained his memories too. If not… well. Thomas really doesn't want to just go up and knock on Sung Jin-Woo's apartment door. The whole world knew where he lived, but it's just not the done thing to go bother his family, especially if they don't remember. Inadvertently dragging them into all this is a good way to get his ass kicked again, and while that could be exciting in its own way and Thomas certainly wouldn't mind another spar, this kind of invasion of privacy would probably result in the sort of not-fun beatdown that would both lose him Sung Jin-Woo's regard and land him in the hospital for a second time, and he wouldn't even have Healers to save him this go-around. Or the enhancements of an Awakened Hunter to cushion the blows.

 Still, it's a last resort. If every other option hits a dead-end, Thomas will have to at least consider it.

 He leans back, and the chair creaks under his weight as he twists a little to peer down at the floor. He doesn't know if it's just a combination of the lighting and his mind playing tricks on him, but his shadow really does look paler without anything in it.

 He recalls that final battle, the hardest he'd ever fought in his life, half his country on fire all around him, more monsters pouring out of the countless Gates blotting out the skies overhead. He hadn’t understood hell on earth until that moment. Even facing down Kamish had been less terrible. But he'd had Sung Jin-Woo's Summons at his back, pooling in the shadows at his feet and tearing through the enemy's forces right alongside him, and it had been reassuring in a way he hadn't needed but had definitely appreciated. The only thing better would’ve been fighting beside Sung Jin-Woo himself.

 Thomas is a proud man, but not so proud as to be delusional. He's already faced down the Beast Monarch, and he'd known even then that the only reason he hadn't been killed had been down to Sung Jin-Woo's timely arrival. Hell, one of the Monarchs had managed to kill Sung Jin-Woo, and even if it hadn't stuck, it had still given a more than decent idea of the Monarchs' near-incomprehensible strength.

 So Thomas can acknowledge the fact that without the Shadow Summons' aid, he probably would've fallen to the Monarch of the Iron Body. But at the same time, it only cements his resolve now. Defeating the Monarchs isn't impossible, even as a human. He would need help, but he wouldn't be useless in a war of this scale.

 Thomas can work with that. He refuses to stay behind, but he also refuses to be deadweight to Sung Jin-Woo. So long as Sung Jin-Woo can Awaken him again, Thomas will devote everything he has to defending this planet with him.

 This is still his home, his people are still alive, and Sung Jin-Woo is the man who’s given him one more chance to protect both. Thomas can offer him nothing less than his all in return.

 (Later, five hours into a twelve-hour flight, Thomas gets an email from his manager threatening to terminate his contract. He’s petty enough to reply with a simple “Ok” and nothing else, which is probably unbecoming of someone his age but he’s never really cared about that sort of thing anyway. Besides, it’s an easy decision to make, to walk away from a career he hasn’t even looked back on in over a decade.

 Kill the monster armies and save the world first. Then he can start worrying about getting a legal paying job.)

[Next]

[lubdubsworld]

A Tale Untold. ( Jungkook x Oc)

Historical Au! General Jungkook! x Princess Oc!

Warnings : Non con/ Dub con, Manipulation, violence.

Rated 18+

Summary : The King of Elvyra is proud of his empire and of his perfect family. But the truth behind his ascension, is a tale that remains untold.

“The palace is so beautifully maintained your Majesty. Truly, such opulent splendor …..” The envoy from the neighboring Kingdom stood slack jawed in the Grand Hall, staring around at the gleaming trophies, mounted shields and gold embossed portraits that decorated the walls.

The brocade curtains had been left open, tied together with silk braided ropes with jeweled hangings, the light from the late afternoon sun setting the whole place aglow. On ornate tables scattered across the large room, stood little treasures and trinkets that had been taken as bounty from successful military campaigns against smaller, weaker Kingdoms.

All of it a testament to the unchallenged power wielded by General Jeon Jungkook, the King of Elvyra. He was not like the other monarchs. He still commanded his army personally despite wearing the title of King.

Jeon Jungkook, who stood to my left, with his arm wrapped around my waist in a possessive grip that was just shy of painful.

“ You must thank my beautiful queen for that, I’m afraid, Sir Cha. She has been much occupied with setting the Hall and the Palace to rights after my ascension, and her efforts have paid off. Have they not, princess?” Jungkook whispered, turning around to brush soft lips against my ear and I felt physically sick.

The last endearment was a sneer. And insult. A reminder of what I was : a captive.

“Yes, my King.” I said softly, keeping my tone level. I wouldn’t dare act up in front of guests, because Jungkook’s punishments would be cruel and merciless. He would keep my sister away from me, or worse, he would forbid me from spending time with our oldest son.

Jihwan was only seven, but already he was being trained as the heir, spending hours on the training fields with his father and it took endless hours of begging and servicing Jungkook in his bed and out of it, for me to be allowed a scant few hours with the boy.

Jungkook drilled into his head the importance of power, the need to instill fear in his subordinates, raising him to be just as ruthless and cruel as he himself was and I had only those few stolen hours to speak to my son about the values that I had grown up with. My heart ached when I remembered the kind of monarch my own father had been : a kind, gentle man who loved his Kingdom. And my elder brother had been raised with morals , compassion and justice in his veins, only for Jeon Jungkook and his barbaric army to invade our home and destroy it all.

“Your beauty outshines all of this, my Queen.” A man simpered next to me and Jungkook’s eyes narrowed at him. I swallowed. Jungkook didn’t like others looking at what was his.

“The story of your ascension to the throne here, we would love to hear of it.” One of the women said and my breath caught in my lungs, Memories flooded my head, traumatizing and painful. My skin went hot and then icy cold and my husband laughed next to me.

“It was quite simple. I was offered the throne and the lovely daughter of the Kingdom, in return for saving them from ruin, was it not, my dear?”

Liar.

“I.. Yes.”

“Ruin? Was your kingdom is trouble, my Queen?” the woman asked.

~~~~~~

No. We were rich and thriving. Everyone was treated equal here. My parents ruled with a heart of gold and everyone was well fed and joyful. We held festivals every month, celebrated life and never deemed ill will to anyone else. We loved each other. The commonfolk dined with the royals in the courtyards and the King himself drank at the cavern down in the village. The oldest prince, my brother, he played with the boys in the village, taught them how to wield the sword and the bow and arrow and my sister and I… we spent our days in the meadows…. Making daisy chains and stealing kisses from the stable boys.

~~~~~

“ They were in desperate need of firm leadership. My father in law, may he rest in peace….he had a weak heart that gave out soon after our alliance. Her brother followed soon after leaving me no choice but to take over.” Jungkook’s voice held a note of genuine sympathy and I felt sick to my stomach.

~~~~~~~~

The sight of my father, kneeling in front of his throne, shackled and in chains. My mother on her knees, begging for mercy and Jungkook’s men held a dagger to her throat. My brother standing in front of me and my sister, arms spread wide as he stared right at General Jeon, refusing to kneel.

“What you’re doing goes against every law on earth, Jeon. The moment you attack a foe when he has his back turned you reveal yourself to be a coward.”

And Jungkook had laughed, loud and uncaring.

“And if I stab him through the heart when he’s right in front of me? What does that reveal?”

It had happened in a flash, the quick movement of his wrist, the flash of silver as he drew his weapon and then the sickening squelch of the blade as it sunk through skin and flesh. The hot wetness of my brother’s blood as it splattered all over my face, the dawning horror as I realized that he had run the sword right through my brother’s heart and the endless screams from my mother and sister as my brother died right in front of our eyes.

I had stood there, too stunned to scream watching the boy who had taught me how to walk bleeding to death in front of me and when I had looked up, Jungkook’s eyes had been trained on mine.

“Bring her here” He had said firmly, pointing right at me and my entire world had exploded in agony. I screamed in protest as his men grabbed me by the arm, yanking me forward with such force that my legs gave out, dragging over the rough stone floors as they pulled me to stand in front of the man who had invaded our home without remorse.

“General Jeon….” My father’s voice came from behind me , soft and yet firm. I could hear the grief and pain in the syllables, and I wondered how much my father must be aching at this moment. He had loved my brother with his whole heart “ We’ve offered to surrender, offered you the throne. Please. Spare my daughters and my wife. There is a summer palace at the edge of the kingdom . We will retire there and live our lives out in exile. Please… don’t hurt them. They are too young to understand what you’re doing.”

One of the men standing next to Jungkook stepped forward and I glanced at him, my eyes widening when I saw his face. He looked like an angel, pristine and flawless. And his gaze was trained on my sister . I felt my heart began to pound as he began making his way over to her.

“No!! No… Aline!!” I screamed and Jungkook’s hand shot out gripping my jaw and forcing my mouth closed.

“Hold your tongue, woman.” He whispered. “ My patience wears thin.” He glanced at my father and the smirk on his face grew bigger. “ I think that would be such a pity, your highness. A face like your daughter’s … it doesn’t belong in exile. It belongs on the throne…. does it not, princess?”

“Your daughters are beautiful , majesty. They deserve to have handsome, brave husbands, do they not?” the man who had gone to my sister called out, his fingers curled around her arm as he dragged her to the front and I felt my heart crack in two as Aline burst into loud, miserable tears.

“Lulu…. Lulu make him stop… tell him to let me go…” She whimpered , punching fruitless against the soldier’s armored chest and the man seemed amused as he stared at her.

“Please…she’s too young…” I begged, staring at Jungkook beseechingly. “ She’s only sixteen summers old… Please don’t hurt her…”

“Sixteen isn’t a child. She is old enough to bear one herself.” The man holding her snapped angrily and I stiffened.

“A fair enough point, Taehyung- ah…” Jungkook laughed “ but we’re not barbarians. Let her go for now.”

“What?” Taehyung growled. “ No. I want her. Jungkook I’ve never taken anything from any of the countless kingdoms we’ve ravaged but I want her.” He shook my sister like she was ragged doll and Aline looked catatonic with terror.

“Please , let her go, she’s shaking…” I begged , trying to yank my arms away from the men holding me and Jungkook growled.

“Shut your mouth or your father dies.” He snarled and I was too stricken, too distracted to register what he had said, too focused on my baby sister to listen.

“please Jungkook, don’t do this… She’s young and she’s scared….”

Jungkook’s snarl of rage made me go white as a sheet and I watched in horror as he pointed straight at my father with the sword that still dripped with my brother’s life blood.

“ Get rid of the old fool.” He roared and my heart ripped straight in two.

“NO!!!!!!!”

My loud cry did nothing to deter the men holding my father who showed not a moment of hesitation, raising their sword.

“Remember who you are, Iseul!!” My father said loudly and I turned my face away, closing my eyes as the sickening sound of the blade coming down rang through the place, my mother’s howl of agony following shortly after. I stared at the floor, going limp in the arms of the men holding me up, my body numb and throbbing in disbelief.

“Now look what you made me do.” Jungkook snapped. “ I was going to let the poor fool live, somewhere in the dungeons with your mother but your complete and utter disregard for my authority….it fills me with rage, Iseul.” He snapped.

I couldn’t breathe, my lungs constricting. They were dead. My father and brother, the only two men who had protected me and my sister all our lives, they were both dead. This man. No, not a man. A monster.

This cruel, heartless monster had butchered them in front of my eyes.

“Look at me.” He said suddenly, stepping in front of me.

I didn’t respond, keeping my gaze trained on the floor and his hand shot out, gripping my chin and forcing me to look up at him.

“Look at me.” He said firmly. “ Come morning we will be wed. I will be your husband. You will belong to me. You will give me strong heirs and all of your wants and needs will be mine to fulfill. Do you understand what that means, Iseul?” He demanded.

I choked on a sob.

“Jungkook we need to get rid of the bodies. Give them a proper funeral at least.” Another man stepped out of the shadows and Jungkook sighed.

“Yes, hyung. Taehyung-ah… Why don’t we take our new brides to our chambers?” He smirked, “ I could do with some stress relief now that the hard part of this whole thing is done.”

“Took you long enough. Come here my pretty doll…” Taehyung grinned, dragging Aline away and I whimpered, stumbling to try and follow but Jungkook’s arm came around my waist squeezing tight.

“That’s her husband now. Think of it that way and it will hurt less. Your sister is married to a man who will love her , protect her and cherish her. He will give her nice strong children. What more do you want for her?”

I exhaled shakily, turning to him.

“ What do you know of love, you monster?” I whispered.

Jungkook hummed.

“Then how about this, my princess. Let me teach you what I know of pleasure, and you can teach me all about love.”

It was a lesson that I never forgot. A painful, humiliating excruciating lesson in his bed where he stripped of my clothes, my dignity and the last shreds of my honour.

I stared at the ceiling as he lay over me, the large expanse of his chest pinning me to the mattress, the slick drag of his member inside me making me ache and throb, his lips, pressing kisses against my throat.

“you smell like a flower garden, my angel. So pure and precious. Made for me, I see….” He whispered, hips pushing up against mine as he ducked into me with long, rough strokes.

I stayed still staring into nothing and he pinched my nipple, twisting the buds till I whimpered.

“Please…”

“please what?” He whispered, resting his forehead against mine, forcing me to stare into doe eyes that seemed to glitter like the clear sky on a spring night. What a beautiful monster.

“Please stop…” I whispered.

“Stop…” He laughed cruelly. He pulled out fully before slamming back in with more force. Pain lanced up my body. “ Now why would I do that?”

“Hurts…” I whispered, exhausted. My hands lay limp and tired next to my head, throbbing from trying to punch him countless times to no avail.

“Poor little love. It hurts because you aren’t used to it. I will do this often and well and soon, your body will know that I belong inside you. And then you will beg me to make it last longer… not stop.”

I closed my eyes, staring into my mind. Remember who you are? I didn’t even know who I was anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Of course, it was a pity that the royal blood came to an end that way. But some things can’t be helped.” Jungkook said firmly, arm still wrapped around me in a vice like grip. I glanced at the sun as it dipped lower in the sky. Was Jihwan done with the training? I wanted to see him. To hold him and remind myself that there was still some goodness in the world.

“But under your rule, the kingdom has thrived, your Majesty. So it was all for the best.” The man said brightly and Jungkook chuckled.

“That is true. Would you like to view the training grounds now?”

“If, I maybe excused?” I asked softly and Jungkook frowned.

“Is something the matter?”

“I feel a little unwell…” I said softly and the look on his face darkened.

But he didn’t protest, merely dipping his head lightly.

“Jihwan is in the west wing. He’s working on his scribing skills. You may visit him for a while and after our guests retire, I will fetch you from him.”

I bowed respectfully.

“Thank you, my King.”

~~~~~~~~

“Mother!!!” Jihwan’s loud cry rang through the hallway as he came barreling into my arms. I caught him too my chest, eyes stinging because soon he would be too old for me to hug and kiss and caress.

“My darling child, I’ve missed you..” I whispered.

“You saw me last night at dinner…” He laughed.

“And that is entirely too long ago.” I brushed the hair of his face. “ did you eat your meals? Have you been keeping yourself safe?”

He nodded eagerly.

“Auntie Aline and Uncle Tae bought me a new dagger.”

I felt my heart drop. A dagger?

“Darling, please be safe…Is it too sharp?”

“A little. But Uncle Tae told me I’m old enough to learn how to use it to fight.”

I closed my eyes, willing my self not to scream in frustration.

“Alright. But now unless your father is there to watch you, alright?” I whispered.

He nodded.

“Yes, mother. Mother…. “ He hesitated. “ Do Auntie Aline and Uncle Tae love each other?”

I blinked.

“What?”

“She looks so sad, sometimes.”

I bit my lips, willing myself to smile. Unlike me , my sister didn’t know how to put on an act. She had always been a delicate child and the trauma of our parents death and Taehyung’s cruelty had taken a toll on her. She was deeply depressed but her husband didn’t care. All Taehyung cared for was her body and the two sturdy sons she had borne him, a third child on the way.

“Of course darling. You do know, Han and Jiwoo are going to have a younger sibling soon? She must be tired from growing the baby inside her.”

“Will I have a sibling too?” He asked innocently and I opened my mouth to refute the idea when a shadow fell over us.

“Would you like one, my brave little tiger?” Jungkook’s voice rang over us and I stiffened.

“No.” I said swiftly, “ He enjoys having all of mama’s attention, don’t you darling?”

Jihwan wrinkled his nose.

“I don’t know. A little sister would feel nice.”

Jungkook hummed.

“I like the idea of that. If you give me a daughter then we can have her betrothed to Han at birth.” He said casually and I felt sick.

“Jihwan, you must go back to your lessons, now. Your mother and I will see you at dinner.” Jungkook said softly and I flinched when Jungkook gripped my shoulders tugging me away from my boy. Everyday Jihwan looked less and less upset at leaving me and I wondered if one day he would begin welcoming my departure.

Jungkook didn’t say a word, turning me around and leading me gently to the opposite wing, where our bedchamber lay. It was a path I traipsed a million times in the seven years we’d been married and yet, it felt just as unbearable as it had back then.

The sight of the King made the maids and footmen scramble away in a panic and I swallowed as he opened the large engraved doors , prompting me to go in. I stepped in only to have him press against my back at once. I stayed still, letting him untie the strings of my train, before moving to undo the button of my gown. He stopped halfway through.

“This is tedious. Strip for me and get on the bed.”

I didn’t move. What did he want? Surely he wouldn’t be thinking of humoring my son? The idea of bearing more children for him was abhorrent to me. I wanted to cry. But I did as he said, carefully stripping out of all my clothes ,m placing them in a neat pile, on the table nearby before moving to climb into the bed for him. Jungkook moved into sit against the headboard, before grabbing my wrists and pulling me to his lap.

“Look at me.” Jungkook said, once I sat straddling his thick thighs, the curve of my bottom resting against the hardness of his arousal. “ I was right, wasn’t I?”

I stared at him as his hands came up to pinch both of my nipples at the same time, playing with the hardened numbs till I began squirming on his hard length.

“ You were made for this weren’t you? To be my queen and my wife? Such a perfect mother too. I was right to choose you, wasn’t I?”

I stared at him, the handsome face that I wanted to hate., But it was hard. He had given me Jihwan. He had let me keep my sister at arm’s length. He had let my mother live out her years in the palace, although the grief had killed her two years ago. It could be worse, I told myself, lifting and moving to line the tip of his member against my body and sinking down on him. It could be so much worse.

“Fuck…yes. Just like that angel….” He gripped my waist, bucking up into me and my body caved, now used to the intrusion.

“Yes…” I choked out, when his thumb moved to press against my center, rubbing circles.

“I was right….I’m always right . Your body knows I belong inside you.”

He pulled me close, arms a vice around my body and I choked as he fucked into me .

“Say it… “ He demanded and I closed my eyes, sorrow and helplessness welling into tears and brimming over my eyes onto his shoulders and down his back. But Just as I was used to him inside me, Jungkook was used to the tears soaking him whenever we did this.

“Don’t stop.” I breathed.

The King after all was always right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note : Would you guys like another part? But please tell me what you thought !!

[curekibouka-writing]

Staying Awake (Twst fanfic) (chapter 1/3)

Summary: I know you are brave, my child, but never be fearless. I’ve seen fools go down that path, and I’ve seen how it ends. (Very mild spoilers for Halloween 2021 episode 2)

Word count of chapter 1: 811

Also posted on ff.net, quotev and Ao3

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: So it’s canon (as canon as the Halloween event 2021 is) that Lilia almost died once, at least. Which means fanfiction time hehehehehe

Warning: Near death, mentions of blood

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: Tired

He couldn’t tell if this pungent stench was of heated iron or of pooling blood. 

Lilia lifted his arm like a broken marionette, and swung it down like the string snapped, his sword drawing a long red diagonal across the human’s torso. 

The human soldier gurgled, collapsing, and so did Lilia. He hadn’t counted how many enemies he had vanquished, but certainly it was enough to earn him some rest. 

He was tired. 

The number of blades protruding from his petit body stopped him from falling onto the welcoming mattress of soil. He dangled there, red drizzle watering the earth, some inches and some moments away from repose. 

He was very tired. 

Now in a serene sea of equally foolish beings losing breath, the silence was an anthem for faes’ success in defending the borders, and so was it an elegy for their defeat. 

The king and the queen were dead. 

Lilia hadn’t the faintest idea how humans knew the fae king and queen were to be near the borders today, but surely the humans had come for their heads. 

A few units of guards were no match for a whole human army ambushing them. They weren’t fazed by the arrows and spears raining down from the mountains, but they could do little when the humans stampeded their lands, dozens of savages grabbing onto one fae, then tearing them apart with any means possible. 

He had seen them fall. He had seen and he hadn’t made it in time to slay the human driving a halberd into the queen’s shoulder. He had seen and he was three steps too late from striking down the crazed human stabbing the heartbroken king repeatedly with the same halberd. 

“Why…” he let go of his trusty sword, coughing. If anyone managed to hear him, then he truly wanted to beg for an answer, because in his millennia’s worth of wisdom, he could not find one — at least not one that he could accept. 

Why must we fight? 

Why must you besiege us as if you didn’t know we would kill you? 

Why do you all come at us with that desperation in your eyes? That lack of fear? As if you could not live without jumping head first into death for once and for all? 

He glimpsed at the unmoving human hand beside him, a dainty ring sat on the fourth finger. 

Why was that not enough of a reason to fear...?

Now lives were lost, families were shattered, regrets were left behind and cries would be heard all throughout the night. Were man and fae not one and the same? 

He was too very tired. 

For once, he thought he was quite ready to close his eyes, and with his fellows, he would follow his monarchs wherever they shall go. 

“Lilia.” 

He opened his eyes again to the queen’s voice. The scorched earth beneath their feet remained inert. The grass, the dust, the ashes stood, not a breeze to kiss away their laments. Nothing moved, aside from the layers of white fog ahead of them, and those who made their way toward it. 

Lilia squinted to look beyond the enigmatic white, he noticed the monochrome scenery writhed and shifted each time someone entered. 

Into the eternal labyrinth — the world of the dead. 

“My queen, my king, I…” he began, a stumbling step toward them. 

The king placed a hand on his shoulder, cutting off his words and stopping him from coming forward. In the stillness, he thought he had heard his own heartbeat. 

“Not yet,” the king smiled lightly. “Go back, Lilia. Do us but one last favour.” 

Lilia returned the smile with his best effort, nodding. They hadn’t needed to say more, he knew who they were thinking of. He quite envied those who have someone to hold close to their hearts at a moment like this, really. They all have this look on their faces like fragile glass tempered with endearment, half their hearts still living on.

He woke to the young prince yelling his name with a voice that couldn’t recover from grief quick enough to sound relieved. A searing twinge shot across all his injuries when he drew the slightest of breaths, but he still turned his head to address the poor child. 

“Malleus.” He exhaled, his next words more chilling than the coldest winter he knew of, “Your parents…” 

“I know, Lilia, I know.” Malleus almost clawed at Lilia’s hand, “All I have left… are grandmother and… you,” gripping on so tightly that it hurt and they both knew it, “You can’t…” he mouthed as his hoarse voice failed him, “…go.” 

Lilia lifted his arm like a broken marionette, “Silly child,” and brought his hand down ever so softly on Malleus’s head, “Now that I’m back, where else would I go?” 

He was very awake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of Chapter 1

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Ruathym, part Two

Rating: NSFW Words: 1219 Pairing: Male Drider x GN Reader

The second part of this dark “romance” for @kim-monsterlings

xxx

You play a game of cat and mouse, avoiding Ruathym in his own castle until he has no choice but to summon you through any servant who can manage to track you down. You learn the passageways like the back of your hand, daring to dart into any room at a moment’s notice to avoid the maids and soldiers and giant spiders that patrol the halls.

You’ve made a habit of crushing the little spies you find scuttling in the corners of the rooms you’re in for any period of time, checking every little crevice for webbing and four pairs of eyes. Instead of enraging him, your vehemence at maintaining some semblance of privacy seems to amuse Ruathym, who only continues to send smaller and smaller spiders to their deaths at your hands. Despite that, the back-and-forth between you two was just a way to pass the time. Ruathym himself never truly threatened or frightened you; that particular honour fell to his wife, the Queen.

Larger and more volatile in nature than Ruathym, the Queen hated the very air you breathed. An arranged marriage, there was no love lost in the relationship between the monarchs, but nevertheless there was a begrudging fondness between them that meant that she allowed you—his “pet”—to live. You learn very quickly to stay well out of her way, especially when she goes on one of her infamous rampages throughout the castle at any real or perceived slight.

The one spider you don’t avoid is Tinki, the kitten-sized spider that Ruathym gifted you with when you first arrived at the castle. Tinki is a colourful little ball of fluff who differs greatly from the earthy tones of most of the other spiders—incredibly venomous even to driders, but tame as a babe in your arms while you carry her around and rub her little thorax throughout your musings. She squeaks to let you know when you’ve been found, which is the only reason you see Ruathym coming before he can get a literal jump on you in the castle gardens.

“There you are.”

“Here I am,” you sigh back at the King, placing Tinki on your shoulder and scratching along her head as she wiggles her pleasure.

Ruathym lifts his brows. “I wasn’t aware I’d gotten a parrot. Get out of the dirt, you filthy little worm.”

“Worms are good for the earth,” you feel the need to reply, needling him even as you make yourself obey.

“And they’ll eat your eyes out when you’re dead,” Ruathym shoots back, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him.

You grimace. “Charming.”

Ruathym looks amused. “You can’t avoid me forever.”

“I can try.”

“And waste both of our lives? You’d be better off humouring the man helping you carry out your schemes.”

“I see no man,” you flatly reply, keeping your eyes on the King’s chest. “Only a very big bug.”

“Arachnid,” Ruathym grits out, though you can still hear a smile in his voice. “We eat little insects like you.”

You roll your eyes. “Bitch, bitch, posture, posture. What is it you want? I’m not giving it up in the garden again. You got thorns in my thighs the last time.”

Ruathym laughs, and you curse yourself for thinking that it’s one of the only truly lovely things about him. “I came to tell you that we’ve broken their ranks,” he says, startling you into a rare bout of speechlessness. “I have agents poised to strike at your beloved brother at my command. All you have to do is say the word.”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. You remember being stabbed in your sleep in the shattered safety of your chambers by one of your most trusted advisors, the people turned against you by your charismatic younger brother. You remember your flight from the palace, stumbling and bleeding in the dark, the barking of hounds at your heels. You’d stolen a horse and fled into the forest, but the huntsmen chased you all the way to the cliffs where you tumbled with the poor beast into the frigid waters below.

You remember drowning, and you remember coming up for air against the rocks of the far shore after what felt like hours of being battered against rocks and down several mercifully small waterfalls. There, you were picked up by a scout of the driders who recognised your face, and you were saved from the brink of death just so that Ruathym could interrogate you and strike your deal.

Your fingers find the fresh scar tissue on your chest through your clothing, ice growing in the pit of your stomach. Ruathym is watching you expectantly when you finally look up into his ruby red eyes, and you give a short, sharp nod. “Do it.”

The King of the Driders flashes a feral grin down at you, all sharp teeth and gleaming fangs. Days later, distant smoke curls black and acrid from the direction of your former home, and you know the deed is done. You feel no triumph or grief; the fields in your heart have all but been salted, leaving you feeling only raw and tired. You almost sag back against Ruathym when he wraps his arms around you from behind like he had all those nights ago, drawing you away from the balcony and undressing you slowly. You don’t quite know why you allow it—the terms of the agreement had been fulfilled, after all—but you know that there is nothing left for you now that isn’t ash.

This time, when Ruathym takes you to bed, you don’t offer the token struggle. Instead, you surge up into his kisses with a desperate sort of passion, hands working the man’s thick, slippery cock once it slips free of his body. There’s a question in his eyes and you’re grateful that he doesn’t voice it, instead pushing you down against the bed and caging you in with his limbs. You hook your legs around his slender hips and push up into his thrusts when he slides into you, ignoring the burn of the stretch in your search for pleasure—for the ecstasy that you know will make it so that you don’t have to think about what you’ve done.

That night, he’s especially rough with you, but you’re not gentle with him, either. You pull his hair and bite his lips until he hisses and swears and fucks you until your voice breaks. He claws at you when you ride his dick, breaking skin, but you can’t bring yourself to care as his neurotoxin obliterates every flicker of coherent thought you might have had, leaving you a wanton mess. He’s never touched you this way before, kissed you this way before, fucked you this way before; it’s as if you’ve awoken something in him, primordial and deadly, and you’ve become his willing prey. You come hard when he pushes you over the edge again and again, fingers cramping in the sheets, spine arching until you’re almost bent backwards in his arms.

You regain consciousness later in the night with his fingers in your hair petting you as gently as one would pet a sleeping pup, and you know in your heart that you will never leave him. You have nowhere else to go.

[katsukavi]

I wanted to make this a full fanfiction on my wattpad, but I didn’t want to disappoint everyone with the super slow updates (like my scumlord lol) so.. here’s crap I pulled out of my notes called arise, undead (“pretty obsessed” sung jin-woo x male, zombie reader) I also really like the options I have in tumblr lol. I’m a little embarrassed to add tags because I’m not sure if people will like it and stuff.. But yeah! This is the book cover I made for it here too! :D

Im having too much fun with these new stuff~ (please excuse me. this is my first long post and i love everything here—)

(spoilers)

The plot is that Jin-Woo finds an undead in the woods, tries to arise him and it does work. Now they fight together because the zombie has no memories and is literally immortal (yet dead). Near the end, they discover that MC was murdered and his body was buried in the woods yada yada. Then when Jin-Woo goes back, he has to save him. But, he has to save MC as a 15 year old while MC is a 27 year old..

(I planned that part out and I think it’s a little funny how suddenly a kid approaches you like “You’re going to die if you go somewhere. Come with me, I’m your lover from the future.”

“Ah, it’s a chuunibyou.. Sorry kid, but I need to go to work—“

“No.”

‘Alive or not, MC still looks like a zombie.. Why are you so overworked?!’)

IT WAS SUNG JIN-WOO’S FIRST TIME using his new job skills, so naturally he’d get excited in testing every single little thing about it. He just exited the purple hued portal behind him, feeling like he acquired an interesting new toy to play with. Even though he was tired from the lack of sleep, his joy kept him from passing out.

Either it was that, or the rain pouring over his head. All his excitement flushed into disappointment as his shoes got muddy from the damp forest foor and his clothes getting completely soaked in rainwater. It would be impossible to pass out with the loud thunder rumbling in the background.

He cursed with every step on his path, finding it hard to walk with the slippery and uneven soil, his vision blurry from water and dark skies and his body dragging itself against harsh rain. Unfortunately, he was also already very exhausted.

Out of all the times for a thunderstorm, why did it have to be right after the job change quest?

From behind the trees, he heard a low distorted roar—forcing him to dip his head towards it’s direction. He held a dagger in one hand, trying to make out its shape from behind the trees.

It was in a humanoid shape, making him relax just a little bit. “Is anyone there?” he questioned.

His voice seemed to reach the stranger as they left their hiding spot in the trees’ shade. The person looked to be a man wearing a formal suit, diluted blood marking over his chest and face. Even though he looked human, he didn’t seem to breathe, just limply staring at Jin-Woo with a blank and lifeless expression.

Strangely, the stranger’s (s/c) skin was pale, like blood hasn’t been pumping through his veins. But attacking a person because they looked really sick wasn’t a good thing, it’s like attacking an overworked person because they looked so dead. It was either it was too dark or the view was too blurry.

“Hello?” Jin-Woo called out one time, staying cautious from the stranger. It lunged at Jin-Woo with a raspy growl, nearly scratching his face. Jin-Woo ducked, a small scratch appearing on his face from the speed. It definitely wasn’t human.

Sung Jin-Woo was already fatigued, at a disadvantage with the location as well. He cursed, barely dodging every slash thrown at him. “Igris!” he called out, the shadow materialising from behind him. Igris grabbed the humanoid monster, a splash of mud splattering around as it was thrown.

Sung Jin-Woo stabbed it deep in the chest, not a single drop of blood spilling out as he stepped back to breathe. He put his hands on his knees, staring at the lifeless corpse as he sent Igris back. ‘It seems pretty strong.. Should I extract it?’

He took a deep breath, getting closer to the body as he raised his hand. His posture was elegant, holding a composed expression as droplets of rain streamed down his attractive face, adding to his charm. A deep and soothing voice left his mouth, sending chills to anyone who would hear it.

“Arise.”

Though unfortunately, the Shadow Monarch was greeted with nothing but silence and the sound of ambient rain. That’s odd, if it was a failed extraction then a notification would pop up to let him know or something. Was the system suddenly broken? If that’s the case, he should try again.

“Arise.. arise. ARISE!” he shouted multiple times, but a shadow didn’t get extracted. He furrowed his brows, squatting down to find out the cause of his skill suddenly breaking. “Why isn’t it working..?” he mumbled under his breath, getting closer to the body with a puzzled look on his face.

“Arise. Arise. Arise arise arise. Wake up. Rise and shine. Arise. Awake. Good morning. Arise.”

“I’m not dead yet, dimwit.”

Did the body just.. talk back to him?

“You didn’t hear anything,” Jin-Woo blurted out, getting embarrassed from the montage of Arise and synonyms he was saying to something that was alive. He stabbed the body once again, trying to kill it as he attempted once more. “Arise.”

“You don’t have to try again. I’m not dead,” the man just sat up like it was just his average tuesday, sliding out the blade from his chest, handing it to Jin-Woo and dusting off his clothes. The undead just raised his head towards the sky, watching clouds part as he lifted his palm, no more droplets landing on top of it. “Oh, the rain is clearing up.”

“Excuse me. Didn’t you just try to attack me?”

“Did I? I don’t remember,” the stranger scratched the back of his neck, looking bored as he yawned. “My name is (L/n) (M/n), age 27. And you are?”

“Sung Jin-Woo, 24.”

“Nice meeting you. Now where in the hell am I?”

/////////////////////////////

(L/N) (M/N) HAD A NASTY SCOWL on his face, plopping the sewing kit on Jin-Woo’s bed as he angrily tried to open it with one arm. Unfortunately, someone had cut off his right arm that he spent ages trying to sew back on.

“What next, my leg?” he cursed under his breath as Sung Jin-Woo opened it for him. “Wait a minute,” Jin-Woo said, sticking the end of his arm to his shoulder. “Hold this,” he said, making (M/n) keep his limb in one place as he put the thread in the needle.

“What?” The zombie still looked very angry, knitting his brows together as he held still. “I thought you needed a hand,” Jin-Woo lightly joked, trying to make (M/n)’s mood towards him a little better. The undead male gave him his signature dead stare, tightly holding his severed upper arm before speaking.

“Jin-Woo, I am dead serious here.”

He started to lightly chuckle, noticing that Sung Jin-Woo was almost finished with sewing his arm back on his body. “Hey, you’re pretty good at this.” His remark made Jin-Woo smile as he opened and closed his hand, almost as if it was brand new.

“My clothes kept getting ripped when I was E-Rank. I learned naturally.”

“The next time you rip off my limbs, please fix them too,” (M/n) said, flailing his right hand in the air with satisfaction.

“Well next time. I’m sure I’ll make you mine.”

“I doubt that.”

///////////////////////////// (now it’s just random dialogues i pulled out of my idea dump lol)

“OH HECK! There goes my leg!”

“Oh no... He’s dead! It’s not like I’m happy about it or anything~! ...Arise arise arise arise—“

“IM NOT DEAD!”

“God damn it.. Jin-Woo, could you go fetch my torso, and my arms and my legs and uh.. my head. Yes, thank you.”

“You don’t have a heartbeat and your skin is ice cold. I stabbed you 32 times. How are you still moving?”

“Dunno, ask Jesus.”

“I CAN’T BREATHE! I’M DYING.”

“You don’t breathe, (M/n).”

“Oh yeah, you’re right.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you want me dead or if you want me alive. Which one is it?”

“Either way is fine as long as you’re mine.”

“Gross, necrophiliac.”

“Good night, (M/n).”

“Good night, Jin-Woo..”

“Alright.. arise arise arise arise arise arise arise—“

“Once again, I am not dead.”

“You’re not useless, (M/n). Because when you die, I WILL MAKE YOU MY SHADOW.”

“HOW IS THAT SUPPOSED TO COMFORT ME?!”

[cave-questionaire]

[kingdoms] is there any good monarch gossip...

Hm. Well. Monarch bugs father- the Non-diamond one- could Absolutely get it. Abso-fucking-lutely

Public knowledge but: Natashas having an affair with her maid, has a thing for burnettes AND feet. for this at the masquerade, she was stabbed as someone attempted t seduce her, found out about the feet thing and booked it!

queen magonolia was TERRIBLE in bed. worse than your average replican.

We have a groupchat to discuss thing across the whole region and anatole and natasha Arent invited. As far as they know the "true chat" is dead and we dont communicate.

We all call anatole Anatoli canoli and screamed it at the masquerade before fucking off

Ghosts mothers...Also could get it.

Bug types like theyre always writing a letter no matter what. Very funny.

king habit was a PROLIFIC whore. there are likely MANY genetic relatives of the rivertrot royal bloodline that the crown would legally go to since scribbles dissapeared, but theres likely so fucking many of them that you cant. You just cant. but thats just what people say ;]

Theres probably more...