#happy young royals day to all who celebrate

[yanderemommabean]

Silly Royal Yandere Idea-

Imagine being a worker for a royal family, you're a farmer who brings the goods to the kitchen every day and make sure all vegetables and fruits are fresh, not bruised, cleaned and ready to be prepared for their meals.

You usually make the trek alone, no big deal right? Just some heavy baskets and such but the job itself isn't really that bad. It's made even better actually when the young prince finds he fancies the way you work and how you farm, loves to walk with you on your way out of the kingdom and listen to you and your stories.

He's cute, you'll give him that. Curious and finally able to explore without much of an issue now that he's finished his training, his father boasting proudly today even that they shall share a feast in celebration.

The walks are nice, you aren't alone and are even safer as the highwaymen shrink away and know to stay back when they see such fierce eyes. Those calloused hands from fighting and training lay on your hips, pulling you closer to his side as you share yet another walk to your farm and get the baskets ready for another delivery.

These sweet meetings grow in size as time goes on. He's been given permission by the king and queen to bring you to the main rooms of the castle, though they aren't too happy that he disregards their rules about what you can and can't touch.

He's so puppy-like, grabbing your hand and pulling you everywhere he can, showing his favorite art, his instruments he's been playing while he waits for you to return, the things he requested be made to remind him of you, and some other odd but - at the time- well meaning items.

The prince however gets more and more demanding of your presence. So much so, that one morning you wake up to begin to water the crops and fetch some in your buckets but you opened the door to the man standing there, royal suit and all, a wide smile on his face as he greets you.

You insist you'll be at the castle soon, that you have work to be done, but he just pushes you forward as he walks with you, -not harsh, but definitely firm, making sure you couldn't turn away from him as he leads you.

"Just one day can't hurt right?" he says, "I just wish to spend the day with you, only you. It's why I took my own horse! He loves your carrots, you know? Only yours...He's very much like me in that regard". 

You decide that, on one hand, denying the prince anything could be dire, the royal family having all say in what is done and you're lucky they have been so benevolent. Risking your business because you didn't want to indulge the odd prince...It isn't worth the reward of just keeping up with the crops and farm work. 

But this one day out by the river and having the man buy you whatever you laid your eyes on, while sweet and very enjoyable, wasn’t enough. He shows up every morning now, you hear how exhausted his parents are when you reach the castle every time, they demand he act right, that he stop leaving without notifying any of the guards, but he just laughs it off and says “Why should they embark with me on my and my lovers adventures? Private matters are private father, remember?” 

They know what's going on but it's so much darker and more twisted than anyone could have imagined. Boundaries get pushed more and more, you keep trying to keep your farm alive for not just the royal family, but yourself and the others who need you too, but the prince insists that your time is to be spent with him, only him. 

It reaches its boiling point when you deny him a walk. No runs to the river, no waltz in the woods, not even a chat over tea. Your farm is sick, it needs tending, and you yourself are weary and exhausted from trying to balance it all out. 

He goes silent, hands clenching at his side for a moment before he just smiles, wide and friendly as usual, and he kisses your hand before apologizing. You assure him you aren’t exactly mad, you just have things to finish, and he at least seems to understand that. 

Or, so you thought. You crack open your eyes after waking up in a bed that wasn’t yours, hearing the horses outside neigh and chuff in terror as if something was very very wrong. You recognize the royal emblem on the wall, and you shoot straight up, knowing this was a carriage. You shove and knock on the doors, the smell of smoke filling your senses as you can only imagine the worst, but the heavy wood doesn’t budge and you can only make out garbled words as a man screams demands. 

You manage to break open the boarded window of the carriage and watch as your farm is engulfed in flames, horses neighing in terror, ashes falling all around, your cabin falling in on itself from the blaze. And you gaze upon what you can only assume is the incarnation of death and war itself, a sign of the end times, as the Prince rides up on his own horse and tosses a lantern, the blaze only erupting hotter as he cackles in triumph. 

You feel horrified tears well up in your eyes, so many emotions coming together at once. Everything you worked for, everything you had built from the ground up, all your memories and all of your belongings- gone. 

Ash and embers fill the sky as the knights who came begin marching back to the carriage, staffs in hand as they finally open the doors. You lunge, wanting to tear your teeth into the heart of that evil, sick, twisted man, but he just laughs. It’s a soft amused laugh like when you told him your stories in the market or on your many many walks. 

“Ah, I hadn’t expected that mixture to wear off so soon!” he boasts, stepping down from his own horse. His stride is slow, like he’s taking in the view of a beautiful field or admiring someones art. You want to spit at him, claw at him, break him in any way you could fathom. 

His feet stop, the crumbling building behind him still a blazing orange and red, opposite of the cold features the prince wore on his face. His hand comes to gently cup your cheek, his thumb stroking across where tears are falling down your heated cheek. “Why so upset? I took care of what was keeping you away from me! I know, I know, you’re sad, but I made sure nothing of importance was hurt! Which wasn’t much. A picture or two should still be safe-” he says with an expression of after thought. “ Anyway, dearest, I fixed the issue! And you can now come where you’re meant to be! “ “I’ll kill you-” “Ah, even when murderous and livid you strike my heart with your beauty. Do tell me every wicked way you wish to end me! It thrills me, makes my skin crawl so pleasantly imagining you touching me in any manner” he taunts, squeezing your face a bit tighter. “Be it anger and resentment or true love, I’ll relish any touch you bring to me” “My lord, the sun will rise soon” a deep voice says from the side, your own eyes too stunned to look, uncaring as everything else sets in. Your home is gone, your fields are ruined, your possessions all roasted and incinerated. Nothing left but the haunting image of burned rubble and some charred remains of any item you owned. 

You’re trapped. Imprisoned in a golden cage as this wild man declares that he and you are meant to be, whether you want it or not. 

“Get some rest darling. I’ll lead us back to the castle” He says with a kiss to your forehead, allowing the knights to force you back inside. “Don’t be so angered! I promise to treat you like royalty! Since you will be, once the marriage is announced and all”

(Hope you liked this! Feel free to comment and tell me your thoughts! Especially spicy ones :3c -Mommabean)

#yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #mommabean #yandere prince #yandere royalty #yandere male #yandere prompts #sorry for typos #ok to interact #ok to reblog #ok to say stuff #ok to comment

[hispg]

Between royalty and vows

Pairings: Prince! Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: A forced marriage, a fate set in stone, nothing could change that.

In the world of royalty, there were no choices, only obligations to fulfill. What you didn't expect was to become engaged to a renowned prince, ready to succeed the lineage.

Until that moment, you still had some hope that everything would work out, maybe it wasn't so bad. But it would be a shame if your future husband had a mistress.

Wouldn't it?

Wc:2.4k

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt/ comfort, cheating, arranged marriage, eventual smut, one sided love, affairs, (I'll put more once things starts to progress).

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

An: So, initially I was going to post the other fanfic I did with Fuckboy! Leon, but I thought it was bad and decided not to post it for now. But I still have plans for it.

I intend to do several chapters on this fic(I'm sucker for royalty AU), I don't know exactly how many but I plan to do more than 10 or 15, since I have a lot of stuff I want to put in. Most of them are not comforting.

This is a thank you to the 200 followers, which by the way is almost 300 by now. I'd like to genuinely thank each and every one of you<3 And I hope you enjoy this story, because I'm genuinely excited about it.

Prologue

Royalty wasn't for everyone, that much was obvious to those who already lived in this reality. A world of appearances where everything was perfect, people, everyday life, relationships. But that was a facade, the reality took place between closed doors.

It was never clean, the backstabbing behind the king's back, the betrayals, the lust that hid behind the elaborate and sophisticated costumes. But in the end, what mattered was how beautiful that royal family was to its subjects, honor being a crucial element to maintain.

Faced with all this, the Italian prince, Leon, was well aware of the dynasty's sacrifices. He was already aware of his duty, and knew that at some point his life would take a completely different turn from what he had expected. As the only heir, he knew that it wouldn't be long before his father wanted him to marry, after all, he had to carry on the line. The honor of the kingdom had to continue, and he was the only one who could.

Although he already knew that the burden of succession would come to him one day, he just didn't expect it to be so soon.

Leon was a man known for his accomplishments, despite his young age he was a brave man, as well as the incomparable beauty he contained. Sharp features, a piercing blue gaze, a prince who wasn't afraid to speak his mind. He had a unique authenticity.

Yet he still couldn't fit in with his surroundings. His eyes staring at the chandelier, seeing how decorated everything in the castle was. Seeing the expensive clothes of each of the invited guests, the glittering dresses of the ladies who were there. He watched the people walking around the hall, seeing how comfortable they were in that situation.

But not him.

The evening was planned to be perfect, days and weeks of planning went into making this great event happen. All the most important royals were present at the castle, from the most prestigious dukes and duchesses to other kings and queens.

Today was the day that the Italian prince, Leon, would be presented to his future wife. He was the rightful heir, the next to rule his own kingdom. That's why the ballroom was perfect, every last detail thought of and worked on to create the perfect occasion.

To show off the future rulers of the country. The next ones who would take care of that kingdom and prosper it. It was a more than necessary moment to demonstrate the future couple.

Despite all the sophistication and dedication that the queen put into the celebration, Leon didn't seem to be at all excited or happy about the situation. He was sitting in one of the royal chairs, taking small sips of the most expensive wine, his expression sullen and bitter.

He didn't ask for any of this.

The day when the fates of two royals would cross, intertwine and become one. A marriage that would unite them, a commitment that once made could not be broken.

If he was being honest, he didn't even want to be a prince. This royal life didn't suit him, all these comforts and perks that didn't seem to fit in with anything he liked. A forced life, just because he was born into this family.

From where he was sitting, he could see you coming. The beautiful British princess, dressed in the most expensive of dresses, hair tied up in a bun. The ornaments that shone on you, as well as the enchanting smile that could melt even the hardest heart. At that point, all eyes were on you, curious and expectant. Everyone there was close to the soon-to-be queen.

Admiring your features, he couldn't deny that you were beautiful. Your sweet features, your face that exuded the purest grace and youth. Your way of walking that seemed to make you flutter with every step.

Still, you weren't her. You weren't the woman he loved. The only one capable of bringing a genuine smile to the skeptical man he was.

You weren't Ashley Graham, the princess he had fallen madly in love with. The one with whom he had sworn several vows of love, the one with whom he had promised to spend the rest of his life.

And there he was, preparing to marry another woman. One he didn't even know, or have any proximity to, and even worse, to marry a woman he didn't love. No matter how much he protested this to his father, nothing he said was listened to.

'You're going to marry her, whether you like it or not.' Words that still echoed in his head, and seeing how close this marriage was, he felt the weight of the situation on his back.

Yes, he had always known that this moment would come. His duty as a prince, to follow what was prescribed. What fate was supposed to have in store for him, even if he didn't believe in it.

But all his thoughts vanish once he hears a sweet voice calling him:

"Your Highness." The tender feminine voice coming from your lips, along with the elegant curtsy you made.

He blinked a few times, holding back a sigh out of politeness. Like the gentleman he was, he rose from his seat, returning the bow to you.

"Good to see you here, Your Highness." He says courteously, even if it's a lie. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was keep up appearances.

It was hard not to notice the prince's beauty, his handsome and charming face, his eyes the lightest shade of blue you'd ever seen. His blond hair was just as captivating. No wonder he was one of the most desired.

You felt lucky to be the woman who would marry him, even though you knew that the prince already had someone else in his heart. Rumors spread fast, especially when it came to a family as important as his. But magically things remained under wraps, even though the suspicions of this secret relationship were well-founded.

You always knew that like most marriages, you wouldn't marry someone you were in love with. But you still had a glimmer of hope that you could make him like you, at least a little bit. You hated to think that maybe your marriage was a ruin like all the others.

Love and royalty didn't go together, yet you wanted to try and make it something unique.

"Would you like a dance?" Leon asks, snapping you out of your deep trance of thoughts.

You nodded with a polite smile, holding his warm hand as he led you into the middle of the hall. The classical music that echoed through the space, as other people danced and celebrated, gave the place a joyful atmosphere.

As soon as you were in the middle of the ballroom, all eyes were on you. With a gentle kiss on your gloved hand, he bowed and began to dance with you.

One hand on your back, the other intertwined with yours, your bodies very close, your faces almost touching.

His feet moved in sync with yours, both of you moving gracefully. Whirling around the ballroom. The two of you waltzing all over the place, keeping smiles and gentle glances for each other. Acting as if you were a couple in love, making silent vows. His eyes not leaving yours for a minute, his hand briefly squeezing yours, the moment seemed magical. In a way you never imagined it could be.

His cologne filling your nostrils, the heat emanating from his body. Everything about him seemed to draw your attention, as if it were a temptation.

You could feel your heart beating fast, the butterflies in your stomach that showed your clear nervousness. But still you didn't stumble once, your grace and elegance being whispered about among the guests.

His eyes staring into yours, a slight smile at the corner of his lips. This dance was a demonstration of the cooperation between the two countries, the union that was about to take place. A reason to be honored.

Despite the delicacy of the moment, the fluidity with which you danced, the mesmerizing sophistication of your movements. The way your dress dragged across the floor and danced with you. The passionate look you insisted on seeing in him.

You knew it was a lie. A damn lie.

It was confirmed once you saw his eyes light up, the outline of a sincere smile forming on his lips. At first you thought it was directed at you, but that feeling was crushed when you decided to take a look back.

There she was, the breathtaking Highness Graham, the blonde who had captured Leon's heart. The girl who wore a delicate white dress, with sophisticated and expensive accessories, enhancing her beauty. She stood among the others, just admiring him with a beautiful smile.

She knew she had his heart in the palm of her hand, so she couldn't feel the slightest bit jealous of you. He belonged to her.

You felt it in the way he admired her, in the way he looked at her in a way you couldn't even dream of. He was hopelessly in love, to the point where he even forgot you were standing in front of him. His body just moved on automatic, as if his focus was only on Ashley, only on her.

Although you wanted to pull back a little, you couldn't. The waltz wasn't over yet, it was a tradition, and you had to go until the music stopped. You couldn't help but feel a pang in your heart, the feeling that you had already lost a battle that hadn't even begun.

Nobody said you could have his heart.

As he twirls with you, he seems to focus his attention on you once again. Just for a brief moment, he was smart, he knew he couldn't give too much leeway for other rumors to spread around.

It was imaginable that the marriage would be a failure, since both kingdoms only saw it as an opportunity to increase business. However, you didn't expect to get this response so quickly.

Destined for an unreachable man, who was so close and yet so far away. How cruel could fate be?

And so you continued, keeping up the play of a couple in love, dancing and waltzing around the room. His gaze shifting between you and her, just as his expression changed with every glance. For one he gave a polite smile, for the other he gave a genuine one.

And you already knew who was who in the story.

After what seemed like an eternity, the waltz was over. You are presented with a round of applause, whistles and sincere words of approval for your union.

This while you waved and smiled, then bowed to each other, a sign of respect from both sides. As well as showing your gratitude to each other for the opportunity to dance. Etiquette and tradition, which you were following to the letter.

As soon as the applause stopped, Leon held out his arm for you to take, so that he could guide you to the place where the king would give a speech about the future marriage.

Consequently, you and Leon would officially become engaged. There were many looks on both of your faces, so many that you couldn't even count.

One in particular caught your eye, the same woman who had captured Leon's attention earlier, Ashley Graham.

The subtle smile, which was soon reciprocated by Leon, although discreet, you were able to perceive this small exchange between them. You couldn't deny the lump that was forming in your throat as you tried to let the situation sink into your head, that you would at least understand how it would go on.

As you walked through the great hall, stepping on the expensive marble, making your way to where the king would make his pronouncement. Walking through the crowd of distinguished guests who were there.

You noticed him looking at you from the corner of his eye, as if he were analyzing you from head to toe. It wasn't as if he was judging you or anything, it seemed more like the look of someone who wanted to look at his future wife, as if he was thinking about how things would be from now on.

Which you didn't even know what it would be like, either.

It wasn't long before you arrived at the King's chambers, a polished and expensive place, you could feel the sophistication of his throne just by looking at it. The place was perfectly tidy, the carpet had no fuss at all, perfectly done. Every butler and waiter duly took their places, bowing as you walked.

It seemed that the king had already started his speech, but he hadn't gotten to the important part yet. First, he had to give a statement to those attending the event, nothing more than a courtesy to them for being there, as well as reinforcing his duty to his kingdom, and to each of his subjects.

A while later, the king stood up, raised a glass of wine and said loud and clear:

"Tonight is a special night," then his gaze falls on the two of you, and he smiles broadly, "My heir, my only son is going to marry."

Despite the obvious, a round of applause echoed around the room, whistles and compliments. Which caused you and Leon to smile at each other, acting as if the happiness was genuine, as if you weren't two unacquainted people about to get married.

As soon as Leon's father saw the general reaction, he raised his glass and said, "Cheers."

Enough for another wave of loud sounds and murmurs from people. They seemed to be very happy about the future of the kingdom.

Leon then gave you a hug around the waist, swirling you in the air. Even his smile changed, and you believed even for a second that it was real.

"We'll be happy," Leon murmurs, loud enough for the people around you to hear and giggle at the new couple.

"Yes, of course." You say with a sweetness in your voice, buying his conversation. Deep down you wanted it to be real, but you knew the shadow that stood between the two of you.

It was a lie, a facade, and maybe it would never be real.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon resident evil #leon kennedy smut #resident evil 4 leon #resident evil leon #leon smut #leon scott kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon re4 #resident evil #re leon

[somelazyassartist]

To go with my last post about Thistle acting capital-W Weird™ around Laios, it really does make perfect sense when you think about their history from Thistle's perspective instead of through Laios' like we actually see.

Imagine being Thistle, and you're like, I don't know, 14, and you're the royal court jester and adoptive son of your King. And you just got a baby brother and you're so excited about it. It is, without doubt, the happiest day of your life so far. While you're celebrating a few of your family's servants and guards come in to help. One seems somewhat confused about the situation but you probably assume he's just a new hire, it makes sense to bring in added security when there's a new prince around. You don't see this knight again anytime afterwards, but you're not exactly in charge of hiring or firing guards, so it's not really any of your business where he wandered off to.

You are Thistle, and you're now probably around 40 or so, still rather young for an Elf but a fine young man nonetheless. You're all dressed up to the nines and eager to perform your newest flute composition in honor of your little brother's wedding, and you're so, so proud of how far he's come. You helped your father raise him well. And just as the ceremony's about to kick up, and the people are starting to get drunk and make merry and dance, the King, your father, collapses. Poison, assassination, you hear people cry out. But as you run towards him you slam right into one of your guards- and have the extremely fleeting thought of "WAS that one of our guards? I haven't seen them around but they seem so familiar somehow"- but as soon as the thought occurs you're snapped right back into the present, and the fact that your father was murdered right in front of your eyes, and that you couldn't do a thing to stop it.

It's been a small time now, enough that you've had time to lay your King to rest, and to prepare your brother for the throne. It's his coronation day. You should be happy- you are PROUD, of course, of how far your little brother has come- but it is not the joyous day that you would have hoped for, and instead one of mourning for you. And looking around the room as the Kingdom's crown changes bearers, you see a guard, rather out of place. And this time, you have time to process why he feels so strange here. You've seen this man before. You KNOW you've seen this man before. This is the man who you have seen exclusively on the best day of your life and the worst, with no trace of him elsewhere in your life, and he is here, now, again. And for one who is clearly a Tallman, he hasn't aged a single day. There is something wrong with him, and with you, and you feel that if you keep crossing paths it will only end in disaster for you. So you try to kill him. And he disappears, right in front of your eyes. You don't see him around after this. You pray you never will again.

You are now The Mad Sorcerer- no longer, even, the false name given to you by your King. Only the title used by those who want to kill you remains in people's minds. It's been so long now. You can't even count how many years it's been, but you know your life has reached centuries upon centuries past what you were meant to live. And so has everyone you've ever cared about. In these years you have done everything you can to preserve the last bit of what you can call home, trapping yourself and your entire kingdom in an oasis of immortality. So what if the people may grow to resent you? You're protecting them. It's not your fault people may mistake your kindness for cruelty. Though many adventuring parties have tried, none have gotten through your defenses, so as long as you keep focused on your goal things will be fine. Except for this last week or so, where one particularly troublesome party has been making their way further than most would dare venture. And you swear on your Kingdom's throne, if this party includes who you think it includes, you are going to have a fucking aneurysm.

You are the Lord of this Dungeon, and unfortunately for you, your house has just been broken into. Even more unfortunately for you, you know exactly who did it. When you step through your front door, everything is unsettlingly clean. You wonder why in the world the man following you for your entire life would take the time to tidy your house if he's here to psychologically torture you. And then a thought hits you like a punch to the gut, and you rush upstairs, and you see all of your diaries taken out of their hiding spots. And you know that if they took a look through them they would find roughly 200 pages of glittery pink gel pen writing out repeatedly,

✨ This motherfucker again ✨

#i know i said in the tags of my last post that i didn't necessarily think Thistle and Laios had a gay thing #BUT i have decided exactly now that i am going to rarepair ship them exclusively because their dynamic is very fucked up and extremely funn #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #laios touden #laios dungeon meshi #thistle dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon spoilers #dungeon meshi spoilers #death tw #death trigger warning

[coralinnii]

Hello, may I please ask for part 2 for Malleus in that isekaid villainess au? Heacanons please

"If you are a villain, then let me be your accomplice" 

feat: Malleus

genre: hurt/comfort?, romance

note: sequel to “being reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy”, roughly 1.5k word count

I hear you simps. I had an idea for an interaction with the heroine but the post got kinda long so I stopped here.

The past few weeks felt like a roller-coaster. You were pushed, pulled, and blindsided by the amount of things that were happening simultaneously. 

Firstly, you had to deal with the sudden proposal your family received for you, literally on the day you just had your previous engagement annulled. 

Secondly, your family had to deal with the accusations of treason from multiple families, which suspiciously included the families of the capture targets. 

Thirdly but probably the most concerning, your precious pen-pal and the man who sent the proposal was the Dragon King and hidden capture target of the game you were reincarnated into, Malleus Draconia. And he keeps appearing by your house to receive the answer you refuse to give yet. 

“Are you upset that I am the Dragon King, dear human? Do you hate me?” 

Screw him and his sulking figure right now. How does a Dragon King be so good at pouting?

After everything that has happened, you wanted nothing to do with the main protagonist and her harem and with Malleus being a capture target, he was just as liable to betray you like everyone else did. Your heart couldn’t bear any more. 

You were scared, which was why you attempted to distance yourself from him with logical reasoning. You tried to convince him that marrying you was too socially damaging. 

“So long as my family is suspected of treason, I cannot in good conscious marry you, Belle- King Malleus”

“Oh, is that all?” And with that, Malleus left leaving you confused. What did that mean?

Apparently that meant that Malleus had a mission to destroy what stood in the way of his beloved. Within a week, he and his aids searched for foul play regarding the accusations and soon found what he was looking for. The offenders responsible were arrested and sent to the imperial family in secret. He found something interesting but thought it would be better to hold onto this trump card for a bit. 

Thus, the accusations were dropped and your family was joyous over the news. And so was Malleus, albeit for different reasons. 

“What say you now, dear human?” 

“P-Please distance yourself, King Malleus!” 

Malleus was persistent and determined to woo you the human way if he must. With the advice he received from Lilia (poor choice, really), he attempts to win your hand in marriage. 

“My young Malleus, before humans marry, they tend to court each other first” 

And so he did. He would bring you expensive gifts and take you to “dates” (walks around his extravagant gardens count, right?) 

“King Malleus, please-“ 

“Call me by my pet name, dear. I believe humans call their lovers by terms of endearment” 

“That's beside the point! P-Please step back!” 

“But Lilia reported that humans are fond of physical contact and close embraces? In addition, you were fond of holding my hand when we first met”

“!!”  

Still, despite all of your fears, Malleus found his way into your heart and you chose to trust him despite his position as a capture target, against your better judgement. 

Which was why you chose him to come with you to meet them again. 

“They truly have no shame” your father seethed as your house received an invitation with the imperial seal on it, an invitation to a ball celebrating the new engagement of the prince. Your mother held you in a comforting embrace but she wore a look of great distress and rightfully so. Because it was sent as a royal invitation, to refuse is to insult the imperial house and your family was already in hot waters. 

“Sweetie” your mother spoke to you worriedly to which you tried to smile to ease her worries. You weren’t happy but you knew what you had to do. 

Luckily, Lilia heard of your predicament and offered a solution. 

“Dear, a human’s greatest arsenal could be those they have bonds with” the wise viscount hinted. “I’m sure my King would be more than happy to accompany you” 

Which brought you to where you were now, with Malleus offering a hand to you as you walked towards the castle you used to be so acquainted with. 

You were quite a sight to those attending the ball, the jilted former princess candidate being escorted by one of the most powerful beings in the land. Being unable to bear their piercing stares, you started to put focus on keeping pace with your partner, tightening your hold on his arm which you realized were rather built and firm. You knew Malleus to be lean based on his game design but the feel of his arms had your mind wandering slightly if he’s more muscular than you thought. Was he this firm everywhere else? 

“Dear human, are you alright? You seem deep in thought” 

Your body flushed with embarrassment as you got caught drifting too deeply in your thoughts. You released your hold on Malleus and stepped away a little to cool down before the draconian man realized. Luckily, he seems none the wiser. 

“So you chose to come afterall” 

You flinched at the voice. You dreaded your instincts to be true but it turned out to be so. It was the prince, accompanied by his closest companions and the star of the ball, the heroine. 

Swallowing your nerves, you bowed as expected towards the royal family. “As a loyal servant of the royal family, it is my duty to respond to the invitation” 

However, the prince scoffed at your figure. “Even when you and your family's disgraced themselves, you call yourself loyal?” 

You held back your tears but it was difficult when you could feel the heavy weight of disgust the prince held for you. Once upon a time, he was your dearest childhood friend and you thought the years the two of you spent together meant something to him. Sadly, it must have been one-sided on your part. 

However, as heavy as that disgust, it was getting overwhelmed by the aura of something else. The growing anger coming from next to you. 

“Young prince” your partner spoke in a warning tone, narrowing his striking green eyes. “I recall the misunderstanding was resolved and the true perpetrators were apprehended by the imperial knights” 

The prince was quick to silence himself and avoided your eyes which hinted he was already aware of the arrest. 

"Your anger towards my partner seems to be misguided, despite the knowledge of the true situation. Quite unbecoming for a future ruler, I must say"

Malleus continued to stare down at the shaking royal heir and let out a disappointed sigh. 

“I cannot blame you, however” Malleus said which surprised both the prince and you. 

The powerful fae, with gentleness contradictory to his reputation, held your hand in his. He brought your hand closer to his lips, bringing your attention, and the attention of others, to the tall man. You felt your heart jump as he smiled at you before speaking once again.

“I’ve come to understand the feeling of anger for the sake of others and the desire to protect those dear to you” 

Your nerves returned tenfold as your heart was beating to the point you were nervous to think if all of the surrounding attendants was able to hear it. 

Although his green eyes were soft when holding your gaze, it was quick to harden when he turned to stare down at the prince and his associates. 

“But I suggest you tread carefully, young prince,” Malleus daringly warned the capture targets. “In my investigation regarding the accusations against my dear’s family, I came across something curious” 

With that, the intimidating king took a step closer and leaned slightly forward, closer to the nervous prince but still situated in a way that seemed to look down at the prince. 

“The families that reported the treason were in one way or another connected to that woman of yours, which begs the question if these false accusations were done for her benefit” 

The prince froze and glanced at his new lover, who looked as worried as he did. No matter the power the heroine and the prince may hold, that kind of conspiracy would damage the heroine’s reputation as well as the prince and his associates who were quick to condemn your family due to these accusations. If it turned out that underhanded methods may have been used to dirty your name then…high society and the kingdom would be in an uproar. 

And Malleus was counting on that. 

“So…” Malleus' deep voice broke through the prince’s mental spiral. “I do hope you choose wisely before ever trying to interact with my precious one again”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #villainess au

[fandom]

Like drinking mayonnaise? Visit Stardew Valley today!

Farm lovers rejoiced after Concerned Ape released a massive update for Stardew Valley, adding new festivals and beverages and allowing players to put hats on their pets. Two new trailers and a plethora of posters were released for the second season of House of the Dragon, and fans are feeling divided, to say the least. The latest episode of Delicious in Dungeon dropped on Netflix, and we’d personally like to wish a happy belated Farcille Day to all who celebrate. This is Tumblr’s Week in Review.

Stardew Valley

Dungeon Meshi

Artists on Tumblr

Palestine

Hazbin Hotel

Cats of Tumblr

House of the Dragon

Marcille Donato | Dungeon Meshi

Hermitcraft

Alastor | Hazbin Hotel

Farcille | Falin Touden & Marcille Donato, Dungeon Meshi

Falin Touden | Dungeon Meshi

Baldur's Gate 3

Dimension 20

My Little Pony

Jujutsu Kaisen

Young Royals

Interview with the Vampire

Good Omens

Laios Touden | Dungeon Meshi

#week in review #03/25/2024 #stardew valley

[merakiui]

thinking about a royalty omegaverse au with fluffy alpha floyd.

(cw: omegaverse/abo, nsfw, female reader, pregnancy, knotting)

You and Floyd grew up together within the palace, with Floyd being one of the two princes who would one day rule the kingdom and you being a regular servant girl who had been born within the palace to parents who were servants for the Leech family. From the moment you were deemed old enough, you were being trained in servitude so that one day you would eventually be an obedient, dutiful maid. You and Floyd got along very well as children, often escaping your lessons and scaling trees in the courtyard to hide from the pesky grown-ups. Floyd never seemed to care much for the divide in class, but it was always made obvious when you’d watch from afar, noting how much time and effort went into tutoring him and Jade in all subjects, getting them accustomed to the tasks of the throne that they would one day inherit, while you were taught how to do laundry, how to clean, how to tidy a bedroom within minutes, how to keep everything that made you an omega hidden so you wouldn’t “tempt the princes,” as everyone often said.

Despite that, you were still cordial to Floyd, even if he seemed to be way too friendly with you, a mere servant. Floyd had always said you were his favorite maid because you never acted like one, which had bothered you immensely back then. Your entire existence revolves around Floyd; you’re meant to serve him and his brother, not befriend him. It’s what you’re being conditioned to do right now! But Floyd chooses to see you as his friend, which makes it awkward for you as you’ve never been particularly close with royalty or any of the aristocrats who occasionally fill the palace for grand events and balls. Your parents secretly encourage it because Floyd likes to gift you things that he thinks are insignificant but cost a fortune for you. And your parents sell these items to make more money in hopes of one day saving enough to send you to a magic school. It won’t be anything nearly as sophisticated or expensive as private institutions like Night Raven College or Noble Bell College or even Royal Sword Academy, but they hope to at least give you an education. You feel a little bad about tricking Floyd when you accept the jewelry he gives you, but you’re just trying to keep everyone happy.

Floyd’s scent was always strong, even after he had finally presented as an alpha, but as he grew older it only became so much more stifling. Not that it’s a bad thing. It doesn’t bother you as much as it used to. Now you can tell when he’s bounding down the halls the moment you catch his scent before you actually see him. You’re usually good about keeping track of your own biological troubles. The palace provides all staff with heat suppressants and rut modulators and scent blockers just to keep things peaceful and prevent any issues. As always, dutiful as ever, you follow the rules and do everything that’s expected of you.

As a result of your obedience, Floyd has never known what you smell like.

Until years later, when the both of you have become fine young adults. He and Jade had been accepted into NRC, which wasn’t much of a surprise, and a big celebration was held to commemorate the acceptance letters that their parents proudly boast. Unfortunately, the celebration happened to fall on the day Floyd’s rut started. His ruts have always been sporadic, as if they’re mirroring his own spontaneous nature, but it could just be because he refuses to take any medications necessary to regulate such things. He’s royalty. Why should he? Floyd’s ruts always leave him in the most volatile of moods; he’s violent and irritable, prone to lashing out at anyone who happens to get under his skin.

Usually, he locks himself away in his room and fights through it, dazed, hungry, and endlessly horny. Tonight, however, he seems to be roaming the halls as if in a trance, led by a scent that is foreign to his keen nose. So when you turn down the corridor and nearly run into him in the shadowed hall, you think for a quick moment that this is Jade. But then Floyd’s overwhelming pheromones hit you like cold water in the face and you almost crumple to your knees.

“Y-Your Highness!” You take a measured step away from him, but he doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are fixated on your face, nostrils flaring and pupils blown impossibly wide. “Can I... Can I help you with something?”

He smiles at you, a lazy stretch of his lips that shows off rows of pointed teeth. “Shrimpy smells nice.” He looms over you, his scent rolling off of him in aroused waves. “Real nice.”

Your blood runs cold and you slap your hand upon your neck, realizing with rising horror that you forgot to put your scent blockers on. You’d been so wrapped up in party preparations that it had completely slipped your mind. No wonder why Jade had given you such a strange look when you’d served him his breakfast! He must have smelled you.

You know this is a terrible mistake made even worse by the alpha in rut standing before you. And not just any alpha in rut. It's Floyd. Prince Floyd.

Before you can think of what to do, Floyd’s hands are on your hips, feeling and squeezing, and he rubs himself against you, practically clinging to you out of sheer need. Though he’s wearing thin nightwear, you can feel his hard cock pressing against your ass and it takes all of your restraint not to give into your omega instincts. You know it’s useless to try to stop him; it might irritate him and you’re not looking to lose a few teeth tonight.

When he’s undone the upper half of your uniform, letting it pool at your waist while he fondles your breasts, you realize that it won’t be too terrible if you let him get it out of his system. You’re his maid, after all. It’s your job to help him, even if you know that this sort of relationship is forbidden within the palace.

Floyd would have been content to touch and nip at you in the hallway, but you’re worried someone might walk down it and catch the both of you. And then that would be the end of you and your parents, the lot of you sentenced to eternal banishment (and that’s only if the Leeches feel lenient). Floyd whines when you squirm out of his grasp, his hands chasing your waist to tug you against him again, but instead you take his hand and hastily lead him into the nearest guest bedroom. He seems to catch on right away, for a clumsy grin blossoms on his face, and he nearly throws you onto the mattress in his haste, shedding his clothes so quickly that it’s almost silly.

“P-Please be gentle,” you whisper when he’s climbed over you, too impatient to remove the rest of your uniform. Your skirt is hiked up in ruffled bunches, your panties slid down to your ankles. His scent is so strong that you feel your arousal building between your legs, slick gathering in amounts so copious you’d think you’re in heat.

Floyd leans in to nose the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “Course I'll be gentle,” he mumbles, officially rut-drunk. “Shrimpy smells amazin’... Never knew ya could smell this good. Why were ya hidin’ it?”

You swallow thickly when the fleshy head of his cock prods at your pussy, and in that moment you realize this is the first time you’ve ever been intimate with anyone before. To think you’d spend your first time in the dark of a lonesome guest bedroom, with the prince as your bed partner. It feels like a dream or the plot of a whimsical romance, but you know this is neither. This is just a convenience.

“It’s... It’s against the rules.” You try not to think of anything; you try to ignore the fact that he is much bigger than your fingers.

“Fuck the rules,” he spits with an annoyed growl, and then he’s snapped his hips forward, his cock filling you much more than what you’re used to, and an unrestrained moan rips from your throat at the intensity of the stretch. Floyd exhales shakily, gripping your hips so tightly you think he might shatter you.

This is not gentle at all, you think, but that thought is quickly punched out of you when he pulls back and thrusts in, searching for a pace he finds pleasurable.

You bite into your wrist to muffle your cries, far more aware of how loud Floyd’s groans are. If anyone hears and peeks in... If the party stops and everyone sees... If the king and queen...

“Lemme hear ya,” Floyd whispers, stalling his movements to search for you, a single golden eye sparkling in the dark. “S’no fun if you’re quiet.”

“T-There’s still... The party... I don't want to get caught,” you admit through gasps, blindly feeling for his shoulders. You find them, broad and wet with sweat, and you loop your arms around his neck to bring him closer to your face. “I... I could get in trouble.”

Floyd giggles, teeth flashing. “Aw. Is Shrimpy scared?”

Yes, you think frantically. Of course I am! My entire job is on the line!

“Anyone who’s got a problem with it is gonna hafta talk to me first,” he says, syllables punctuated with rough, uneven thrusts.

You’re writhing under him, shredding his shoulders bloody. He’s set an erratic pace, fucking into you as if you’re all he knows. His lips find your cheek and then the corner of your mouth, and it isn’t long until he’s kissing you, exchanging saliva in a sloppy first kiss that leaves you dizzy and breathless.

“You smell so pretty,” he’s murmuring into your skin, tipsy on your scent. “Wanna knot you so bad...”

You’ve heard that knotting feels good and that it usually helps with heats and ruts. Apparently it clears an alpha’s head, and it relieves the omega. You only know so much from listening in on conversations with the maids, so you’re not too sure what it’s meant to feel like or if it’s even as pleasant as the maids made it sound. But Floyd is a prince, your superior in every way, and you can’t possibly deny him. Besides, he’s already inside you. What’s a little more?

You moan your acquiescence and that’s all Floyd needs before he’s drawn himself back, laughter in his voice, and pushes into you so quickly that every inch is swallowed effortlessly. And then there’s something more, a larger, thicker something that stretches you wide, not yet filling you. Your nails burrow into Floyd’s skin, and he hisses a groan through grit teeth.

“S’tighter than I thought...”

“H-Hold on... It—” You wheeze, the breath squeezed out of you as his thick knot bullies its way past slick rings of unrelenting muscle. Tears gather in your eyes. “Hurts... It really hurts!”

Floyd’s shushing you, rubbing circles into your hip. He’s not particularly listening, holding you against him despite your anxious wriggling, and within just a few more determined pushes his knot pops inside. You howl through a messy orgasm, dampening the sheets with your fluids, and a torrent of filthy moans tumbles from Floyd’s lips when he finally reaches his end, cumming inside in thick spurts.

In the aftermath, the both of you are panting wildly, a mess of sweat and slick and cum. Floyd presses his forehead to yours in the dark, his breath ghosting over your lips for a mere second before he seals what little distance is left. The kiss is soft and sweet—an oath between lovers, sealed within darkness. You know you shouldn’t be so happy to reciprocate, but for the moment you allow yourself the delight. His tongue tastes every inch of your mouth, nearly choking you, and you whine into him, breathing in the scents of his pheromones and filthy sex.

He wraps the both of you in a blanket, cradling you against him while you remain connected. He’s buried his face in your neck, licking at your scent glands with happy, rumbling hums, and you almost embrace him out of pure instinct. But instead you keep your arms to yourself, resting them at your sides while Floyd douses you in his scent and takes yours in all at once. It takes some time before his knot has gone down, but by then he’s fallen asleep on top of you, his cock still nestled inside you. You lie there, staring blankly into the darkness, and it finally dawns on you that you just slept with the prince.

Thankfully, he doesn’t stir when you move out from under him, detaching yourself so carefully. His flaccid dick slides out and it has you shuddering with the need for more. You busy yourself with fixing your uniform and tucking Floyd into bed to dispel any foolish thoughts from muddling your rationality. And after you’ve finished with those tasks, you make your swift retreat—or about as swift as you can be when your legs are wobbly from both the sex and the fact that they had lost feeling with Floyd’s body lying sprawled on them. You still smell like him, and it takes two intense scrubbings with plenty of soap before your own scent returns. You wash your uniform right away, silently vowing to yourself to keep away from Floyd for the time being.

It was dark, so you’re certain he didn’t get a clear view of your face. You assure yourself with that thought as you snuggle into bed in the servants’ chambers, unable to shake Floyd’s rut-drunk words: You smell so pretty.

Floyd wakes the following morning in a very good mood, but it quickly sours when he realizes you’re not in his arms. In fact, your scent is just barely there. He sniffs the air, but his search yields nothing. And though he flits through the palace in a robe, too lazy to bother with proper dress, he can’t pick up that sweet scent.

But how could he when you’ve made doubly sure to wear your scent blockers?

He wants to find you. Floyd spends his day in a foul mood, chewing through the bones of the grilled fish he’s served at lunch, grumbling under his breath. No one comments on it because it’s so normal, but there’s more to Floyd’s behavior that the servants just can’t see. He’s anxious, drumming his fingers along the table and bouncing his leg. Jade notices it right away. He intends to ask, but Floyd doesn’t seem to be up for chit-chat and so he holds his tongue.

You can hide from Floyd all you want, but he’s going to find you.

Many weeks later, you wake with an omen. Nausea. You think it might just be the nerves. Floyd had looked at you yesterday when he was sparring with Jade, his eyes falling upon you for a brief second before you hurried along with the basket of linens you had collected from the clothesline. It’s probably the fear that he’ll find you and then your comfortable life as a maid will be uprooted that’s causing this unrest. But then the nausea persists, and as days become weeks it gets worse. You can’t seem to hold your meals down, and the foods you used to enjoy now make you sick to your stomach.

It’s the third time that day you find yourself emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet while a maid strokes your back, easing you with her soft cadence. She suggests you see a physician. You know you’ll have to, and when you finally do they confirm your suspicions. You’re pregnant. You lie through your teeth when the physician asks if you know who the father is, if the pregnancy was planned, if you have any plans for these next nine months. You’re already eight weeks along, and you dread having to admit the truth to your parents. You should have suspected something when you missed your period, but you’d been so caught up in avoiding Floyd that a missed period was the least of your worries.

If you were scared of being found by Floyd, you’re downright terrified now. You’re not sure what you should do. Will you get in trouble if you get rid of the child? Will you get in trouble if you keep it? It feels like a battle you just can’t win no matter what you do.

You hide the secret for as long as you can, relying on support from the maids who promise to you they won’t tell a soul. You work as you normally do, smiling through the fear, tidying the twins’ rooms when they’re out, artfully evading Floyd if it seems like his path might cross with yours. Aside from the nausea and the exhaustion and soreness that overwhelm you after spending each day moving around on your feet, you manage to accomplish everything that’s asked of you. You fight cravings and hormones and the omega instinct to seek out your alpha (who isn’t truly your alpha and can never be your alpha), swallowing them down as if they’re needles. It’s troublesome, but you tell yourself you can handle it. You must if you intend to live quietly with this secret.

It’s when your bump becomes more prominent and you struggle to fit into your uniform that problems start to arise. In addition to that, you’ve started producing milk and it’s become increasingly difficult to manage the bodily changes that come with pregnancy in addition to your duties as a maid.

You’ve had your fair share of rough days and pleasant days. Today seems to be the former. You haven’t even gotten through half of the day and you’re already exhausted, pausing your cleaning to take a breath. You should have taken a sick day; you just want to lie down and rest, you want to ease the ache in your heavy tits, you want a massage, you really want—

Your foot slips on the stairs and your heart drops into your stomach when you feel yourself falling forwards. The stairs spread out before you like a monster’s maw, steep and dangerous. But then someone’s seized your arm, tugging you against their chest, and you’re hit with a familiar scent. You turn slowly, as if on rusted hinges, and peer up at Prince Floyd. He looks annoyed, but his face softens when he notices your bump.

“Hey, what’re you doin’ spacin’ out on the stairs? It’s dangerous, y’know.”

“I’m sorry. I... I wasn’t...” You shake your head, tugging your arm free. “T-Thank you for catching me, Your Highness.”

Floyd peers at you, his brow furrowed. He’s eerily concentrated, as if he’s working out a particularly perplexing equation, and then he asks, “Why’re you working when you’re pregnant?” Before you can answer, he’s quick to add, “Not that there’s anythin’ wrong with it. Just... It can’t be comfortable.”

Tears gather in your eyes. You’re not sure why you’re overwhelmed with a sudden onslaught of emotions, but hearing the concern in his voice and smelling his comforting scent has you recalling the night that started all of this. Before you can stop them, the tears are falling and you’re sobbing on the stairs, wiping fruitlessly at your glossy eyes. Floyd flinches away, hands awkwardly grasping the air as he debates whether or not he should hold you.

“Hey, don’t cry... I’m not mad. I don’t care if you wanna work,” he adds hastily, offering you a smile to ease you. But it only has you crying harder, and he frowns deeply.

On the staircase that would have seriously injured you had you fallen down it, you admit the truth through blubbering sobs. And Floyd stands there, taking it all in, his eyes wide and his mouth agape.

“You...” He shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re Shrimpy?”

You swallow another rising cry and nod pitifully, pulling your apron up to dry your blotchy eyes. “I... I kept it because I thought that... That you’d want... That since you’re a prince...”

Your shoulders are trembling with your every breath, and you prepare yourself for the mood swing. You’re ready to be shoved down the stairs, to be kicked and yelled at, to be punished brutally. But that never comes. Instead, he pulls you into him, embracing you warmly, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You feel wetness on your skin next, and then you hear the softest of sniffles.

It’s a weird thing to hear Prince Floyd crying, but then you’re crying as well, the both of you clinging to each other as if you’re braving the harshness of a rainstorm. And then he laughs, a strangled sort of sound that prompts a broken giggle from you, and now the both of you are cry-laughing on the stairs. He peels the scent blockers from your neck, and your scent hits him head-on. His arms tighten around you, not enough to crush you, but enough that you can tell just how fond he’s become of you in the time that you were apart.

He wipes your tears from your eyes. “Why’d ya hide from me? I was lookin’ all over for ya. Thought I’d never see Shrimpy again.”

“I... I was scared. I can’t lose this job. If anyone found out, my parents and I would be in trouble.”

“Mmh, I guess so. Looks like you’re out of a job.”

Your heart hardens and you blink at him. “W-What? Y-Your Highness, I... I... I’m sorry. I—please reconsider. I’ll do whatever you want, so please don’t—”

Floyd’s giggles silence you, his scent filling the air so warmly. He bumps his forehead against yours, grinning that dopey smile you love so much. “How’s about you become mine instead?”

“As in... L-Like your...wife?”

“Wife Shrimpy!” he cheers, taking your hands in his and squeezing. And then he raises them up as if they’re a cheerleader’s pom-poms. “Wife Shrimpy! And baby Shrimpy’s joinin’ us, too!”

You’re smiling through your tears. You’re certain your face is a mess, but that means nothing when you throw your arms around Floyd. He laughs, his body rumbling with the joyous sound, and his arms lace around you in adoring reciprocation.

Perhaps, you catch yourself thinking, this won’t be so terrible after all.

#i am letting prince floyd out of his cage now #meraki mumbles #tw: omegaverse #tw: abo #tw: knotting #tw: pregnancy #n/sfw #fluffy floyd hours

[drakoneve]

Missing Memories Pt. 1

request: Hey!  I saw that your requests are open so I was wondering if I could get a Daemon x fem!reader where they are happily married and one day reader has an accident and is unconscious for weeks and he is desperate and when she finally wakes up ( to make his despair worse) she has lost her memory (maybe she doesn't remember anyone or to be more distressing maybe she just doesn't remember him, I'll leave it up to you) Seeing her condition, Viserys and Rhaenyra + try to help by telling things about her and also about their relationship before the accident and how happy they were and completely devoted to each other, but it doesn't do much good.  Seeing such a situation Daemon decides and is determined to win her back, at first she is defensive and even a little afraid of him (which makes him very sad, since of all of them she was the only one who was never afraid of him, nor even before they get together) the months go by and he has some advances +(like she starts to feel more comfortable around him and that sort of thing) one night she is talking to Rhaenyra when she gets a really bad pain in her head and flashes of memories begin to flood her mind, when rhae says she is going to call the maester, she runs off to Daemon's room (which was the room they shared before the accident) she enters and runs towards him and him. kisses passionately, when they break up she says she remembered everything. With lots of angst, fluffy, a little nsfw at the end (if you feel comfortable) and happy ending, please?  (If you could also develop Reader's relationship with Viserys and Rhaenyra while she is out of memory I would be extremely grateful. Sorry for the amount of detail, feel free to ignore and sorry for my English)

pairing: daemon targaryen x y/n velaryon

word count: 2.9k

warnings: angst, mentions of head injury, permanent scarring, blood and memory loss, oh and targcest but this is hotd so...

a/n: i’ve decided to split this into two parts so it doesn’t feel rushed! i’m not a dr and have no idea how head injuries/memory loss actually works. also the boar incident didn’t happen on Aegon’s nameday :)

The young prince Aemond’s third name day hunt in the Kingswood was meant to be a celebratory occasion. You’d arrived behind the immediate royal family, emerging from the carriage hand in hand with your love, the Rogue Prince Daemon. At first everything had gone well after the two of you arrived shortly after your younger brother Laenor and his cousin-wife Rhaenyra. 

It had been far too long since you had celebrated such an occasion with your family as you’d spent the last few years living in Pentos with your husband. Daemon enjoyed Pentos, but you could tell he missed the west. He missed the Keep and the city he had known his entire life, and so you had managed to convince him to come back to King’s Landing, if only for a while.

Things took a turn when trouble came the next day in the form of an argument  between Viserys and Rhaenyra over Gods knows what that ended in the king yelling in his daughter’s face in front of the majority of the royal hunt. Rhaenyra stormed out of the tent, and you rose from your seat to follow her but Daemon grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Must you chase after her?” Daemon asked, frown forming on his face. “Rhaenyra is quite capable of taking care of herself.”

You clicked your tongue at him and pulled your arm free of his grasp. “You know I must, Daemon. She is like a sister to me and you know that.”

It was true, the two of you practically grew up alongside each other as sisters would as the two of you were the only girls your age around (minus Alicent, of course). In the years before either of your marriages you would often join Rhaenyra and Syrax in the skies upon your own green scaled dragon Rixende. 

You were just fast enough to catch up to Rhaenyra and her hose upon one of your own, alongside Ser Criston. The three of you dismounted your horses for the day as the sun had begun to set and you were too far away to make it back to the campgrounds before dark. 

Rhaenyra sat in front of the barely light makeshift fire pit while you scavenged around for more fire fuel. The last thing you remembered before waking up in royal chambers was the snorting of a wild boar. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

Daemon knew something was wrong when he could not find the strength to will himself to sleep. His stomach felt like it had twisted itself into a tight intricate knot and in the back of his head he knew he was right in not wanting you to follow after Rhaenyra. Although Daemon loved his niece and held her very dear, you meant more to him than anyone else in the world.

He was awake when Rhaenyra and Criston rode back into camp, the princess screaming for the best healers present. Daemon nearly tore down the front of the tent with the force of his rage as he ripped through the camp, searching for you. He met a devastating sight.

Rhaenyra cradled your head to her chest as she held a soaked red cloth to your head, your own silver hair stained red with blood. The princess herself was stained in a fair amount of blood which would have been just as concerning but you were the one unconscious on the ground with a grievous wound to the side of your head.

Despite every instinct in his body to be by your side and let no one near you as to protect you from further harm, Daemon merely watched with a cold glare as the healers pushed Rhaenyra away and began to stitch at the open wound on the left side of your head just above your ear. 

Daemon instead turned his fury to Ser Criston, who seemed to be the only one of the three of you completely free of blood. The sight of him, clean in the face of the love of his life and his niece blood soaked while a pathetic excuse for a knight of the Kingsguard stood idly by in spotless armor, woke the dragon within the Rogue Prince.

Criston hit the ground so hard it knocked the air out of him. Before he had the chance to stand, or even catch his breath, Daemon kneeled over him to deliver several hard blows to the face of the knight. 

Criston’s nose cracks under the force of Daemon’s blows, blood spurting down his face and chest.

Daemon gripped the neck of Criston’s armor and raised his now bloodied face to meet the prince’s. “What the Seven hells happened out there?” he growled out. “and if you should tell me anything but the truth I’ll have your head on a spike!”

“A boar,” Criston croaked out before spitting blood out onto the side of his face and to the ground. “A wild boar attacked the princesses. Princess Rhaenyra was brave enough to face it after it attacked Princess Y/n.”

“How worthless you’ve proven to be,” Daemon spat in return. “Leaving the princesses to fend for themselves. If my wife dies, I’ll feed you to Caraxes myself. I might do it anyway!”

All the commotion woke the entire camp and by now a large circle had formed around the royal family as King Viserys ran towards his brother. The king pulled on his brother’s shoulder and off of Criston.

“Daemon enough!” Viserys urged. “There’s been enough bloodshed for one night, brother. You must focus your energy on your wife.”

The comment lit a fire in Daemon’s chest and he shoved his brother’s hand away. “Do not speak to me of the duties of a proper husband.”

He brushed passed the king to join the healers at your side. The stitching was finished now, and by the looks of it Daemon knew it would leave a welted scar just above your left ear. With the most care he had and as gentle as he could, Daemon lifted you from the ground where you laid and brought you back to the tent you two shared. 

The healers followed him inside to give Daemon instructions of how to clean the wound throughout the night before excusing themselves, ushering the prince to call for them if need be. 

Daemon leaves your side briefly only to finally remove his armor. He reattached Dark Sister to his hip before pulling a chair to your bedside and taking your hand in his. He thought of the night he saw you for the first time since before leaving for the war in the Stepstones.

It was Rhaenyra and Laenor’s wedding, and you arrived with the rest of your Velaryon kin to the throne room. Daemon hadn’t seen you since before the war in the Stepstones when you were still a young girl and he was surprised to see the beautiful woman you’d grown into. 

The eldest of Corlys and Rhaenys’ children, you wore a sea green satin dress to represent your house. Daemon couldn’t help but admire the way it flowed around you as you twirled around the dancefloor with your sister Laena. 

He ignored the stares of others, namely Corlys and Rhaenys, as he split the dancefloor in half on his way to you. He graciously asked for a dance, and had expected you to reject him. No doubt Rhaenys had filled your head with every filthy thing the realm had to say about him. And if not her, surely one of your handmaid's had. 

You surprised him, though, when you smiled up at him, and accepted his invitation. Daemon took control, wasting no time in taking your hand into his own while wrapping his other arm around your waist to lead you.

When the music slowed down you’d began to pull away from him, but Daemon only tightened his grip on your hand and his other arm around your waist to pull you closer into him.

“Must you leave me so soon?” he’s asked you softly. “The nights only just begun.”

Daemon charmed you into one more dance, which he dragged out into dancing the rest of the night until the unfortunate demise of Ser Joffrey due to Ser Criston’s outrage. After that night Daemon whisked you away to Pentos, where the two of you were wed under the traditions of Old Valyria. 

He took you flying across Pentos upon Caraxes, showing you wonders of the world you’d never even dreamed of seeing. Daemon remembers your excitement fondly as he’d spent the majority of the flight memorizing the smile on your face and shine in your eyes.

Daemon rubbed his thumb along the back of your hand almost in an attempt to wake you. He new it wouldn’t happen this night, you’d been given too much milk of the poppy for that, but it didn’t stop him from trying. 

He spent that first sleepless night by your side and remained there while the maesters prepared you for the ride back to the Red Keep for proper medical treatment. 

Daemon stood outside the carriage with a heavy watchful eye as the maesters secured the makeshift cot to the carriage. Out of his periphrial Daemon can see Rhaenyra approaching, and while he normally dotes on his sweet niece, in this moment his stomach turns at the sight of her.

It should have been her. He thinks to himself. Not my precious wife.

Rhaenyra is respectful in her approach as to not set off her reckless uncle. Her lilac eyes rake over your injured form, guilt eating away at her.

“Any word from the maesters, uncle?” Rhaenyra asks softly. 

The prince takes in a breath, soothing himself the way he know you would. He knows if the roles had truly been reversed then nothing would stop you from aiding the princess in any way. In his heart he knows he shouldn’t blame Rhaenyra, she’s the one who saved your life after all, but he can’t stop himself. 

You should be awake, by his side. You should be enjoying the young prince’s nameday celebrations as you always did. 

“They do not know why she hasn’t woken,” he explains solemnly. “I have requested the best maesters from the Citadel this morn.”

Rhaenyra nods, before looking to her feet as she twirls her golden rings. When she looks up again, Daemon turns to meet her gaze before he can stop himself and he can’t overlook the tears in the princess’s eyes.

“Iksan sīr vaoreznuni, kepūs (I am so sorry, uncle),” Rhaenyra mutters tearfully. “I should have protected her. I should have-”

“No,” Daemon interrupts her, knowing it’s what you would do. “You are lucky you escaped unscathed, princess. She will heal. She will come back to us, this I know.”

One of the maesters then steps off the carriage and approaches the pair. “Pardon me, my prince, but the carriage is ready. It is best for the princess that we do not delay our travels any further.”

“Of course,” Daemon nods. He gives Rhaenyra a hopefully reassuring hand on her shoulder in a goodbye before joining your side once more.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

Despite the arrival and treatment of two maesters from the Citadel, and one healer Daemon flew in from Pentos personally, you had not woken.

After the wound on the side of your head began to heal and the maester took out the stitching, worry began to truly settle into Daemon’s core. The maesters and healer both had done what they claimed they could yet could not give the prince an answer for why you had not woken.

Day after day for three weeks Daemon sat by your bedside waiting for you to open your eyes and come back to him. The two of you hadn’t been apart for more than a few days in the entirety of your marriage, and these weeks without you have been torture.

Today had been no different, it seems. Daemon thinks to himself as he enters your shared chambers, where you still lie upon the bed. One of maester Orwyle’s trainees is by your side but rose upon the prince’s arrival. 

The man bows respectively. “My Prince, I’m afraid there’s been-”

You interrupt the maester with a low groan. “M-my head hurts,” you wrasp, eyes still closed.

“Go, fetch the maesters, the healers, someone!” Daemon bellows his demands to the young healer, who wastes no time in scurrying from the room.

Daemon rushes to your bedside where a pitcher and empty cup sit on the bedside table next to you. He pours you a drink and carefully holds it to your lips.

“Here,” he whispers gently. “drink this, darling. You will feel better.”

You do as he says, not consciously thinking of it, you only wished for relief from your terribly dry, scratchy throat. 

Once you’ve finished, Daemon pours another in case but leaves it on the table. He sits, and claps one of your hands with both of his own.

“I was so afraid,” he confesses softly. He doesn’t look at you, instead he focuses his gaze on your bundle of hands. “So afraid you would not wake. I thought you were gone and there was nothing I could do.”

WIth your free hand you grasp the thick fur covering your legs and you pull it up to your chest, and wriggle your other hand free from Daemon.

“D-do I know you, ser?” you ask, and Daemon can see the confusion laced with fear in your eyes.

He’s always been able to read you and you’ve told him before it’s one of the things that attracted you to him. Not once, since that night he asked for your hand in a dance, had you ever looked at him and been afraid. 

Not when he arrived on Driftmark upon Caraxes years before you wed, soaked in blood from winning the war in the Stepstones. That night you sat with him, alongside your father Corlys and brother Laenor, and begged for every detail of battle. As they relayed their stories of war to you your eyes gleamed, and you enamored Daemon from that moment on.

Daemon shot up from his seat as a sickening feeling took over him. He swayed on his feet, or was he really? He grips the hilt of Dark Sister in an attempt to steady himself. 

Wordlessly he turns and charges out the chamber doors, letting them slam shut behind him.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

Once word had spread through the Red Keep that you’d finally woken you’d been swarmed by maesters and Pentosi healers bombarding you with questions. 

How were you feeling?

What could you remember?

Why was Prince Daemon seen storming away?

You simply asked who Prince Daemon was, which stopped the bustle of your busy chambers.

“Have I said something?” you asked, blissfully unaware. 

Laenor then bursts through your chamber doors, winded and eyes wide. His arrival sparks life back into the maesters and servants continue cleaning like nothing happened.

“Sister!” he gasps, rushing to your side. He wastes no time, carefully, wrapping you up in his arms from your spot on the bed. “I am so relieved to see you. How are you feeling? And where is Daemon?”

You groan, pulling away from your younger brother. “Why does everyone keep asking me about Daemon? I do not even know a Daemon! Have I missed something, brother?”

Laenor sits back slightly, lips parting. “Y-you do not remember? Y/n, Prince Daemon is your husband. You’ve been happily married for years.”

The two of you sit in silence as you do your best to file through your memories. 

“I think I remember seeing him at court once, but I do not remember marrying him. How can I be married and not know it?” You push away from Laenor and stand from the bed. Without risking further bodily harm but as quickly as you could you slip on some simple shoes and pull a robe over your nightclothes.

Laenor follows you as you move about the room. “Where are you going? You’ve only just woken, you must rest!”

“No,” you insist, pulling away from his attempt to grab your arm to stop you. “I have a husband, whom I cannot remember. I have much more important matters than lying in bed all day.”

Many people watched you shamelessly as you made your way through the Red Keep looking for your cousin and close friend, Rhaenyra. If there was someone here who could help you make sense of things it would be her. 

Eventually you find the princess sat under the weirwood tree in the Godswood, reading with a book in her lap.

“Princess,” you call as you approach. “Might I interrupt your studies for a moment?”

Rhaenyra’s head whips up, mouth slightly open in shock. She tosses her book aside carelessly and rushes to wrap her arms around you. The younger girl hits you with such force the two of you nearly tumble to the ground.

“I was so worried,” Rhaenyra whispers into your curly hair. “All I could think of these past weeks was your recovery, it’s all I have prayed for.”

“Yes, such is the sentiment I have been hearing. But I am afraid there’s trouble, cousin.”

Rhaenyra pulls away from the hug but keeps her hands on your forearms. “What is it?”

“I do not remember Daemon,” you confess softly. “Laenor informed me I have been married to Daemon for years, but I cannot remember any of it and it worries me.”

The princess’s violet eyes widen, “Nothing? Not even your time in Pentos?”

You shake your head mournfully and Rhaenyra’s frown only deepens. She pulls you to sit with her under the weirwood. 

“Come, we must find a way to bring your memories back.”

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #prince daemon targaryen #daemon headcanon #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon x you #daemon x y/n #daemon imagine #daemon targaryen angst #daemon targaryen fluff #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd daemon #hotd daemon targaryen #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #daemon x you angst #daemon targaryen smut #viserys i targaryen #king viserys #viserys i targaryen angst #viserys x aemma #alicent hightower #black!y/n #black!fem!reader #black!reader #poc!reader

[factual-fantasy]

Heya Factual! Congrats on the 23,000! Yet another well deserved milestone earned by your hard work and dedication! Really sorry about the cold- we always seem to get sick at the worst of times! Definitely don't do anything crazy till you're 100%, but thanks for making that really cute celebration piece- you can really tell how much the factual Fam cares about you from their worried expressions...and then there's Gerald, who refuses to let his happy demeanor waver for a second! Though then again, he is still quite young- he might not even understand the concept of getting sick yet!

And on that note, at least till you're better, I definitely won't send any unnecessarily exhausting Asks like last time ( thanks for answering that so thoroughly though- that was really cool! ) and just keep it simple- and my ask today is regarding the simplest Mario enemy, the goomba!

You've mentioned them in the past as beings created by Kamek- How does he do it? How long has he been doing it? Are the goombas sentient, or just savage constructs? How many are there, in ratio to the Koopas? Did the bros have to fight through a bunch of them on their way to the castle? And do any of their variants exist, such as the micro goombas, para goombas, or giant goombas? We require the Goomba Lore!

Thank you! :DD I'm doing my best to take it easy.. I've spent most of my days recently either sleeping, sitting, or playing Pokemon Scarlet XDD that's relaxing right? Yes, I believe so-

As for Gerald, he isn't ignorant to my condition- he's actually meant to be surprisingly emotionally aware. :0 He's smiling though all this because he wants the others to be happy. And if he's calm and smiling, maybe we'll smile too.. 🥺

I was intending to draw a comic that goes into Gerald's character a bit more... But I just haven't been well enough recently to take on a project like that.. :((

And don't worry about "exhausting asks", I encourage them! :D I could really use some lengthy asks as a form of distraction to be honest.. 🥹💔

Speaking of asks, about your Goomba questions..

Well, starting with Kamek actually- I have intentions to make him a few hundred years old. Being the most powerful magikoopa there ever was supposedly.. and he's been associated with the royal Koopa family for generations.. though this idea is in canon limbo, because I'm having trouble figuring how exactly he's managed to live so long. Considering how magic works in my au.. his lengthy life span shouldn't be possible..

None the less, even though I haven't gotten that idea to fit yet- I love it so much that most of the au kinda branches off from it- <XDDD so with that established, Kamek brings Goombas to "life" using magic of course!

I was thinking that the ability animate dead/inanimate things is a very complex magic that took Kamek years to learn. And he was only finally able to master it in the last 100 years or so.

Now for the Goombas, they are not sentient for sure. They are just these little.. zombie like.. machines. They start as poisonous mushrooms and when they are "brought to life", they gain this desire and need move and attack anything that doesn't appear to be a Koopa.

As for the Koopa to Goomba ratio.. I'd say they make up 1.5/10 of the kingdoms population. They are very disposable and "easy" to make.. but they are relatively fragile creatures and take a while to grow.. plus the Goombas don't live very long. Since they uproot themselves upon being "Goomba-fied", they eventually wilt and die.. :/ so that number doesn't ever go over 1.5.

I'm sure Mario and Luigi had to squash some on the way to save Peach the first time. But it was only after her rescue that one landed a bite on Luigi..

As for their variants, the micro and Giant Goombas surly exist! Though king Goomba might not because the original brown mushrooms probably don't grow that big-

As for para-goombas.. hmm.. I know there won't be any Goombas with wings going around. But perhaps there could be a Goomba that can release airborne spores.. or at the very least can attack from afar.. that could get them the title of para-goomba! :0

I think I covered everything, I hope at least-

Thank you for the ask and interest in my au! :DDD it was a nice read and took my mind off of all my ailments for a short time 🥹💖

#my response #super mario bros #i really gotta work on kameks plot holes #i want him to be super oldddd #being loyal to the koopa family for generations.. #hes personally met them #all the family stories and secrets and grief this man knows... #OH OH ALSO #it would be so cool if he was 100s of years old and when you look closer at him you realize not much of his original body remains- #he would be so creepy and haunting #you'd wonder how much of this man is “kamek” and how much is a brainwashed drone meant to serve the king.. #ooooo hes so fun i love kamek #i wanna draw him so baaadddd 😭😭💔

[laurasimonsdaughter]

It was peculiar how names stuck. The young King had been released from his enchantment, but people spoke of him as the Frog King still. And Heinrich, his most loyal and beloved attendant, they still called Iron Heinrich. Except that name they only used in hushed tones, where the King's young bride would not hear.

But it was faithful Heinrich who had gone to fetch their King home once he had found his bride, the Princess who had broken his curse. He had personally handed them both into the royal carriage and escorted them home. Home to the palace that had been such an empty, sorrowful place without its master and that was now filled with joy and impending celebration, as the royal wedding was prepared. And no one was as helpful or as thoughtful in all the preparations as Heinrich.

It was not many days before the King’s betrothed came to find him in his quarters. She was wearing the collier of golden baubles that the young King had given her as an engagement gift, an affectionate joke he delighted in very much, and Heinrich had never beheld a prettier woman in his life.

“You could have sent for me, Your Highness,” he protested. “If you had need of my services.”

But she shook her head and raised a hand, meeting his eyes with most uncharacteristic caution. “You have been very kind to me,” she said. “While you have so much reason to resent me. I know you are the only one the King has told about how badly I treated him.”

Heinrich bowed his head to hide a smile. “I assure you his version of the events dwelt only on your good qualities,” he said. “My master does not resent being flung against a wall for his impertinence. Far from it, if I have understood him correctly. He is convinced you would have thrown him whether he was a frog or a man, and he greatly admires you for it.”

The Princess’s eyes, so large and becoming, gazed at him without being much affected by the flattery. “But you would have treated him more kindly,” she said.

Heinrich could not answer that.

“It is true, is it not?” she said. “That you had the royal smith clasp three iron bands around your heart, to keep it from breaking while the dear King was a frog? I heard you tell him so as you drove us here, whenever they creaked so that it frightened him.”

“Only because they were breaking, Your Highness,” he said. “Because my heart was so glad that you had released him.”

“And yet you are not happy now,” the Princess said. “And neither is he.”

And Heinrich, who had made ready to protest with all the practice of a courtier, instantly fell silent.

“He is not happy when you stand silently by to attend him and will not come nearer,” she said gravely. “And almost every evening he comes wandering to my quarters to speak to me. And he calls his chambers lonely, as if there was some accustomed comfort missing there.”

“His happiness will be secured then,” poor loyal Heinrich said. “The moment that you marry.”

The Princess frowned, and it was a stubborn frown that betrayed a temperament that her royal upbringing had only ever managed to mask. “I do wish to secure his happiness,” she said. “And I shall love being his wife. But if I love him, and I do, I must not be so blind as to think I am the only one to bring him happiness.”

Heinrich looked at her in amazement and the Princess, to his astonishment, placed her hand on his shoulder and smiled. “Dear Heinrich, his dear Heinrich. I do hope that in time you may be my dear Heinrich as well. But for now, it is late, and I have letters to write. I suggest you make sure that my betrothed does not need to disturb me this evening before bed. Or I shall scold you both for it.”

And Heinrich, for what else could he do, bowed his flushed head and said: “Yes, Your Highness.”

The Princess smiled again. “That will do for now. We shall talk some more once I am mistress of this court and of your master.”m

#I realise this makes no sense if you don't know the Grimm's version of the Frog King/Prince #but it's literally /called/ #The Frog King or Iron Heinrich #and yet he only exists in the very last bit?? #anyway #laura drabbles #the frog king #the frog prince #fairy tales #poly romance #in the making #mlm romance #wlm romance

[bucknastysbabe]

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Modern!AU, Pseudo-Incest, hightowgaryen reader, stepdad Criston, sexual tension, infidelity, family holiday shenanigans, Daeron erasure? Not in my house, age gap undisclosed but she’s above 18, pnv!sex, ye olde $qu1rt, the father who stepped up amirite, Aegon Is Tired, daddy kink, happy holidays!

A/N: totally didn’t beta but just went back over to fix some things

The addition of Criston to your household wasn’t necessarily a big change. He’d always been around, a family friend, dutiful guard, more of a father since your own was sickly and preferred his first child and her offspring. The man was there for most of the hardest moments of life, him and grandpa stepping in. He handled the boys, Otto a doting grandparent for you and Helaena. Alicent always just tried her best, neurotic as she may be.

They were married by the time you and two of your siblings had moved out. Aegon had been back home, fresh outta treatment and raw. Daeron was a junior in highschool. It seemed to be a marriage of convenience after your father died. Someone to support and guide the boys with fatherly love, keep things in array.

The wedding was quick and short, no hub-bub, no Rhaenyra or her family. A sharp snub but…what was new?

You hadn’t been home since he moved in. The ancestral home was monstrous, you wouldn’t have to see anyone if you so desired. But holidays were here and your finals were over. A long flight from your study abroad program in Yi-Ti’s capital would be rather horrid. While you centered on foreign affairs, Helaena was studying entomology and Aemond soon to be a forensic medical examiner.

There was always pressure to be the best— Aegon cracked wide open his freshman year. The rest of you had your own little chips and hairline fractures. Maybe not Daeron, the cheerful fellow. He was rapidly advancing to be on a professional football team at the mere age of 17.

You didn’t expect what it would be like at home for the Feast Day of the Father. Supposedly a cheery time, all the servants decorating the manor with garlands and shiny lights, a large ironwood in the foyer. Blue winter roses bloomed and bowls of smokeberry sat around. You couldn’t make it for the Harvest Festival as Yi-Ti didn’t celebrate that, luckily you were now on a school break. The memories of the past Feast Day were more unpleasant than anything.

Criston was to pick you up from the Airport outside of King’s Landing. You felt strange. He was a bit distant with you. Helaena too, but Aemond and Otto seemed to be the only ones she would open up with. Sometimes with you, mainly about her bugs.

You’d always held a childish affection for Criston. A shiver of embarrassment and goosebumps erupted on your arms at a memory. You were young, thirteen maybe? You’d gotten your period and the beginning of breasts. It was the Maiden’s day and you wore the prettiest white dress, hair and makeup done. Batting your eyes and blushing when Cole complimented, “A proper young lady, you look beautiful.”

You seethed with jealousy the rest of the evening, the Dornishman surrounded by maidens, holding young Daeron in his lap. Sharing a dance with Alicent and little Baela. Until a shadow loomed and his lips curled as he asked gently, “C’mon princess, you get a dance too.” You laid your head against his chest, pretending the dear family friend was your boyfriend.

Then it was over and that was that. Criston distanced himself further. Thinking about how you pressed yourself to his bigger body made you pinch the bridge of your nose. Now he was married to your mother. Hopefully Cole didn’t remember. Aegon sure had a field day, the prat.

You nodded off for the long flight, stopping over in Tyrosh before the arrival in King’s Landing. The familiar city line and bay gave a sense of nostalgia. The Red Keep no longer belonged to any royals so the Targaryen’s relocated to Summerhall and Dragonstone. Summerhall being Alicent’s home, while your half-sister lived on Dragonstone.

Jet lag was already setting in. Yi-Ti was many time zones ahead of Westeros. Grabbing your carry-on and other trunk of clothes and gifts you went to the usual terminal. As you hunched standing around others, shivering in the chilly air, a sleek SUV pulled up.

Just in time, some royal fanatics were beginning to notice a Princess in the midst. Criston ushered you into the car, quickly packing away the bags. Once climbing into the automobile he hummed, “Pack rocks in there? Good to see you princess, you look well.”

“Yi-Ti has wondrous gifts, I figured I would get some for the family. How’s Aegon?” The gold band around his left hand shone against the street lights. Criston’s mouth twitched, thinking over his words. He deadpanned, “Slow. He goes to meetings and such but is not having a good time at home. Alicent won’t let him back to school until he gets a year of sobriety. He’s working.”

You snorted, “Aegon, working? Wow.”

Criston rolled his eyes, offering a lopsided smirk. Your stomach fluttered a bit. He drummed on the steering wheel, questioning, “How is it out in Yin?” The fact he even knew the capital made you smile. You couldn’t help but gush, “Oh if I didn’t study the customs before I would’ve been laughed out. They’re a very complex society. I’m now fluent since living there. Very kind people, although a bit stingy.”

Criston let you babble about your foreign excursion, occasionally asking a question. He’d always been recognized as a good listener. Somewhere in your detailing of the history and the issues with Leng— sleep came back. Summerhall wasn’t a short distance.

The vague memory of being carried and shushed by pretty lips and a low timbre accompanied your strange dreams. You’d slumber deeply for the rest of the night.

Apparently morning too, jerking up at 2PM to speed shower off the airport grime and make yourself presentable for the family. Hustling down the stairs the smell of something cooking hit your senses— you didn’t realize how hungry you were.

Daeron was hovering in the kitchen while Criston cooked up some sort of stir fry, looking domestically lovely. Seven above, you needed to stop. Daeron did a double take and hugged you with a cheer, lanky arms holding suprising strength.

“Sister! I’m so glad you could make it, about damn time!” You hugged the baby of the family tightly, chuckling, “You try living across the world, jeez let me down! Daeron! I swear you grow a foot every time I see you.” Criston peered back to smile before returning to the task at hand.

You eyed your baby brother, chiding, “Looking ever the athlete. What are they pumping you with? HGH?”

He scoffed and flexed his legs, “No, simply protein shakes and plenty of exercise. Braavos FC is showing interest but mother wants me to go to school.”

“Do what you want Dare, not like everyone gets the chance to go professional,” you looked around, ”where is everyone by the way?”

Criston interrupted, “Aegon will roust eventually, your mother is working, Aemond in the library, and I think Hel is in the gardens with Otto. They’ll come around, I’m almost done- why don’t you two sit down I’ll fix some plates.”

The pair of you shrugged and did so, chattering about this and that. Aegon shuffled in, looking much healthier, but hair a mess and his clothes ill-fitting. He grumbled, pulling down a tight jumper, “I know I’m fat- piss off sis.”

“Well hello to you too big brother,” you laughed.

He huffed and hugged your seated form, a rare gesture from Aeg. He grabbed a soda and plopped down, yawning. Propping a chubby cheek on his hand, he complained about being out in the middle of nowhere and the irritable retail job he had.

Daeron began to chuckle. Aegon glared his way, mouthing something. You interjected, “What am I missing here?” Aemond’s stern voice filled the awkward silence, “Dear Aegon works at a lingerie store.”

“Women’s intimate apparel,” Aegon droned.

You guffawed, totally not surprised, the damn hound. Aeg muttered, “It’s more returns and angry old ladies asking about hosiery than a babe. Enough about me. Criston you done yet?”

Aemond, ever the prick, “Hope you made extra.”

Criston was in fact done now, placing the big bowl in the middle of the table, returning with some sauces and a side of Leng slaw. You blushed a bit and asked, “A street favorite in Yin, make this for me Criston?” All shades of purple eyes turned to the step-father.

His own olive cheeks darkened and he waved it off, “Just in case you missed the place.”

Lunch was eaten amicably besides Aegon and Daeron fighting over the last servings. To which Aemond snatched to bowl up for Otto and Helaena, informing Aegon he needs a diet. The eldest bristled, “I can’t help I’m always craving shit! I’m clean and sober, be happy about that!”

Things were escalating before Criston shut down the argument, dismissing everyone. You patted the dismal Aegon and softly uttered, “I’m proud of you Aeg.” He offered a brisk smile and stomped outside to light up a cigarette. You took the task of helping your step-father clean up.

It was a bit quiet, water running and dishes clanking. You almost bit your cheek bloody before blurting, “How has it been for you? A big adjustment, marrying into a bunch of loons.” He stared down at his hands scrubbing the plate, lips working around a response again.

“It’s alright. Quiet. Formal. Nothing new I suppose. I didn’t think I’d enjoy all of you back like I did. Brings some life around the place besides Alicent being a workaholic and Aegon moping. I’m a glorified house-husband.”

His dark eyes grew wide. Criston spluttered, “I- I don’t know why I said that. Father forgive me, that was rude.” His calloused hands scrubbed harder at the plate until you thought he might break it.

Grabbing a strong wrist, he jerked his pretty face to your own, panic poorly hidden. You stroked the softer skin on the inside of his wrist and murmured softly, “I know how mom gets. Your secret is safe with me.” You padded away, the man seeming stunned.

You’d go outside to catch some air, feeling a bit lightheaded and guilty getting in your step-father’s space like that. His little admittance was a surprise yet not. Criston was career military, before becoming the head of Royal Guard under Viserys. Rhaenyra dismissed him upon her assent and then he soon married mother.

You had expected less of a strain between the two, they had an obvious lack of chemistry, chaste kisses. Your mother picked up a lot of royal duties still, off working and traveling. Leaving poor Cole alone. Once again you needed to stop. Thoughts began to slip between the cracks.

Aegon was out with his sobriety sponsor for the night. The wine flowed while he was gone. You’d finally gotten hugs and warm welcomes from Hel, Grandpa, and Mom. It was just family, smiling and giddy off the taste testing mother ordered. Even young Daeron was giggly and pink cheeked.

Aemond indulged slightly— the most you got was a looser tongue. Everyone shared stories around the crackling fire, laughing. Your own head was pleasantly swimmy, nestled next to your older sister. She seemed to be in the present for now.

Alicent and Criston shared the love seat, his long arm around around her perfectly postured shoulders. You kept making eye contact with him, blushing and looking away. Why was he staring? You launched into a story about Aegon trying to drunkenly ride a mule at the Crownlands Fair.

That seemed to release a barrage of other Aegon tales, making your sides hurt with laughter. Even a couple of Aemond’s sharp witted barbs at the few full Targaryen gatherings were discussed. The middle brother smirked and snorted, rolling his good eye.

It went on until everyone was either sleepy or borderline too drunk to continue. Your heart felt full, escorting Daeron’s drunk self back to his room. He mumbled with a goofy grin, “I love when you all come home, so much happier.” Tucking him in and grabbing a water out of his mini fridge, you made the teen swallow.

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno’ Aeg’s cranky, mom’s always gone,” he stopped and poorly whispered with wide eyes, “Mom and Criston don’t sleep in the same room.” Patting your brother on the head you gently scolded, “Don’t repeat that, take your meds and drink some water, night night Dare. Love you.”

“Love youuuuu, sorrryyyy.”

Quietly exiting his room you turned down the drafty hallway to meet the familiar dark pools of Criston’s eyes. He stared intensely, you peering back, an unknown force stalling you two. Eventually you padded to him, a little wobbly from the wine. He wasn’t quite sober either, faint Dornish accent lilting his voice toward the end of the night.

He licked his lips, still quiet. You peered upwards, the man towering over you this close. Your heart was beating rapidly, frantic feelings arising after Daeron’s admission. You whispered, “How long?”

He knew, blowing out a sigh.

“Eight months or so. I love your mother, alright dear?” His tone was wavering, weak, as if he was convincing himself. You stepped closer, enough to smell the sweet red on his carved lips. He inhaled sharply, hands balling at his sides.

“Why were you staring at me all night?”

“I could ask the same.”

He looked away, running a big hand through dark curls. Criston muttered, more to himself, “I can’t, not again.” Nodding in affirmation you stated, “You’re right, this is wrong. Good night Criston.” Pain bloomed in your chest turning away. Taking two strides a warm hand tugged your wrist, you biting back a squeak as the man maneuvered you into the wall.

He breathed, “We’re drunk. What is it with you Targaryens?” His warm forehead pressed against your own, hands secured around your waist. A whimper bubbled up from your throat, his warm body caging you in, impossibly toned thigh slotted between your own.

“Just kiss me, I’ve dreamt about this since I was thirteen.”

He groaned, seizing your waiting lips, gently kissing in measured movements. You arched into his hard frame, arms wrapping up around broad shoulders, fingers tickling at brown curls. Criston tilted his head, feeling his way in with sensual little laps. Opening for the elder you met his probing tongue, dancing slowly together as your lips smacked.

His huge hands came down to your ass, slipping under the skirt to hoist you further onto his hard thigh. You mewled again, Criston shushing with another kiss. He whispered into your ear, “Be quiet, hm? Bad enough as is.”

He returned to taking your mouth, quite enjoying the sloppy kisses. You shivered and he eagerly swallowed any noises, dragging your cunt across his thigh easily, aided by your bucking hips. The friction against your clit was sending you into a tizzy. Criston had to reluctantly place his hand over your mouth to muffle helpless whimpers.

He chuckled, “You sound so pretty, lovely, gods.” Instead he laid plush kisses down your sensitive neck and collarbones, humming in delight. You were sweating and drooling, climax quickly reaching an apex, wetness smearing all over Cole’s thigh.

Chest heaving and thighs twitching he ordered, “Now, come my lovely, come for your step-father.” Step-father? You gasped behind his palm, shivering and stiffening as your overstimulated pussy soaked through thin panties onto Criston’s thigh. He eased you down, bright teeth glinting in the low light.

You felt tears welling up, wiping at them aggressively. Nothing new, stepping on a bug made you cry. Certainly nothing to do with never having this again. No. The Dornishman seemed concerned, dark brows pinching.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you back,” he more or less ordered, hoisting you up bridal style. You sniffled, “Sorry, always do that after a good orgasm.” He scoffed, “Sure sweet girl. I’ll take care of you, no tears. Not like anyone pays attention, heads so far into their own asses.”

He gently placed you down, helping aid the still tipsy debacle of undressing and changing. A large shirt and panties would do. You climbed ungracefully into the bed, snuggling under the thick covers. Criston sat on the end of the bed, palm on your ankle.

“Are you leaving?”

He gave a sad smile, “I’m afraid so. I’m just down the hall.”

“Would you do this sober?”

He squeezed your leg, voice lowering, “It would’ve happened before you headed off I think. No one has paid me much attention in a while. You always seemed to idolize me, now I’m an old man fucking around with the girl he watched grow up.”

“I don’t care. When mom leaves again I want to fuck you.”

Criston rolled his eyes, “Now you’re drunk talking.”

“I mean it. I want you to fuck me. What they don’t know doesn’t hurt. Make me cum on your cock.”

Criston groaned, “Stop it or I’ll take you right now little princess. We’ll see.”

It wasn’t long before the elder man had you bent over his bed, strong hips snapping into your weeping pussy. One hand pushed your back into an arch, the other pinching your sensitive nub. You slobbered and bit into the pillow, rubbing your tits into the rough fabric of the bed.

He panted, “Gorgeous girl, sucking me in, you wanted this huh?”

The rest of the family was out for lunch. You feigned illness, Criston offering to watch. No one batted an eye. Wasn’t long before he picked you up and snarled his intentions.

He smacked your ass, you keening, “Yesss- fuck yes— don’t stop! M’gonna come!”

Then tanned man plastered himself to your tinier frame, biting gently on your shoulder, muttering dirty little secrets. He roughly grabbed your jaw to get at your lips, fingers still maddeningly swirling around your engorged bud. He rasped, desperation tinging his tone, “Me too, mmfuckk, my perfect princess, gods!”

He swallowed up your wailing cry, body covering your own, like the man would envelop you if he could. He jerked your hips a weird way, you choking on your spit as his cock jammed into that sensitive ridged patch. Whining his name, heat and a strange sensation lit up between your legs, gushing helplessly onto the bed and the man’s cock.

Criston sounded like he’d died, groaning raggedly, cumming into his condom with a few more sloppy pumps, thighs trembling too. You fell forward, your step-father rolling right beside, chest quickly rising and falling. He managed, “I made you squirt.”

You nodded jerkily, moving weak limbs to curl into his perfect body. “That you did, daddy,” came the breathless reply. He grinned like a boy, smacking your thigh playfully, dark eyes sparkling. Criston laughed, “You need to watch yourself or I’ll eat your pretty cunt until you learn to watch your mouth.”

Stretching lazily you sighed, “That sounds like a good idea to me. I guess it’s good I’ll be hobbling around, they won’t realize I’ve had the daylights fucked out of me.” Criston twisted to give you a peck on the cheek, getting up to dispose of the condom. He called back, “Perfect, I love nursemaid duty.”

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #criston cole x reader #modern au

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Make Me Feel Alive Episode 2

Gilbert von Obsidian's Birthday Story

This is simply a fan translation and is not intended as a replacement for the game. Expect grammatical errors.

Several decades ago, a series of unfortunate events occurred in Obsidian, involving the deaths of members of the royal family and powerful nobles.

It all began with the assassination of the crown prince, followed by incidents such as accidental falls, carriage accidents, bloodshed due to tangled love affairs, and executions.

The unfortunate events continued as if someone were orchestrating them behind the scenes, and those who had been enjoying the power desperately tried to gain favor with the surviving influential figures.

The one who caught the attention of several people was a young prince who was still a child back then.

Despite the repeated deaths within the royal family, the one-eyed boy walked through the castle with a smile.

With just a few words, he demonstrated wisdom beyond his years, and it didn't take long for people to see in him the qualities fit for a king.

The one-eyed boy would eventually become the emperor.

The rumors spread like wildfire, and people did their best to gain his favor.

Gilbert: "It was fun back then. People who never paid me any attention suddenly bowed their heads, and the grown-ups kneeled before me."

Gilbert: "I wish I could've shown you how embarrassing that scene was."

(His childhood stories are always lonely.)

Gilbert: "Ahaha! Stop making that face. We haven't even gotten to the main part yet."

Emma: "Is this even related to your birthday?"

Gilbert: "Yeah. Think about it. If you were trying to win me over, what would you do first?"

Emma: "I'd bake lots of sweets."

Walter: "Please, stop with the carbs."

Emma: "S-Sorry."

Gilbert: "Shut up if you don't want to die, Walter."

Walter: "It's my job to watch over your health."

Gilbert: "Noisy outsiders aside, your idea is correct. You're going to give me something that I would enjoy, right?"

Gilbert: "But a gift, by its nature, cannot be given without a reason. That's why many people focus on一"

Emma: "Your birthday?"

Gilbert: "Yup. At that time, people saw me as a child. And what do children love? Presents."

Gilbert: "One certain year, a useless noble threw a birthday party for me."

------------Flashback-----------

Noble: "Happy birthday, Prince Gilbert."

Noble: "I sincerely offer my congratulations to you, Your Highness. This gemstone is a gift from our family."

Gilbert: "Fufu, thank you. But I don't need that kind of thing."

Noble: "Prince Gilbert?"

Gilbert: "I'm tired and sleepy, so I'm heading back. Goodnight."

Noble: "P-Please wait!"

Gilbert: "Ahaha! Don't worry. I have plans to meet with you tomorrow."

Noble: "Plans?"

Gilbert: "Yes. Well then, let's meet again at the execution ground."

Noble: "What!?"

---------Flashback Ends--------

Gilbert: "The next day, I killed him."

Emma: "What?"

Gilbert: "I just tried to make an example out of the guy."

I was so shocked that my mind went blank.

Roderich: "He was executed for human trafficking and illegal drug possession."

Roderich: "He was an underground merchant who trained unidentified orphans with drugs and illegally traded them. Prince Gilbert had been一"

Gilbert: "Hey, did I ever say you could open your mouth?"

Under his murderous gaze, Roderich fell silent.

Gilbert: "Anyway, I killed him."

Gilbert: "How did the people react? Of course, they thought that celebrating my birthday had upset me."

Gilbert: "After that year, there weren't any more daredevils."

Gilbert: "I was able to eliminate those who celebrated my birthday. All's well that ends well."

Emma: "Why did you hate being celebrated that much?"

(His birthday is taboo for the Obsidian people.)

(But celebrating itself shouldn't be a bad thing.)

Gilbert: "I wonder why?"

Seemingly reluctant to delve into the matter, Gilbert hid his words behind a smile.

Even when I looked at Roderich and Walter, they just shook their heads.

(Maybe no one really knows the reason.)

Gilbert: "Now then, little rabbit. As you said, my birthday is approaching soon."

He suddenly stood in front of me, gently placing his hands on my neck and squeezing it lightly.

Gilbert: "Will you also celebrate my birthday at the risk of your life?"

Episode 1 ╎ Episode 2 ╎ Episode 3

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri jp #cybird #ikepri translations

[graceandtheidiotsquad]

Dumb Character Headcanons: Champion Cynthia

I am having brainrot over the queen of sinnoh ok. I love her and her crazy family so much-! I apologize for how random some of these are-some of them I got inspiration from popular ones from, some from AUs i've seen and some I just made up on the fly-Ok, enough rambling-on with the show!

- TOTAL. MOMMA. BEAR. She just-has very motherly, protective vibes and despite being one of the most generally considered TERRIFYING CHARACTERS IN THE SERIES (and I'm mildly scared of her too!) she'd probably take you out for ice cream after battling her to celebrate a job well done, win or lose.

- Speaking of ice cream, I think this is not only a popular hc i agree with but they made it CANON In the anime that she cannot, for the life of her, decide what flavor she wants and will just stand there for 15 minutes weighing all the pros and cons and unintentionally holding up the line. I mean she'll move when she realizes and apologize PROFUSELY but still- ...But would YOU tell her to hurry up and choose?? No, I don't think so.

- Her hair is usually either down most of the time or tied up in a bun. But only for when she needs it-she doesn't care how messy it gets, she just likes being wild I suppose. Sometimes you'll find her literally wrestling one of her pokemon for fun (usually Garchomp) and her hair will be full of leaves and sticks, and not a care in the world! One of her family taught her how to tie her hair back in a bun, and though she adores them-she was quite the pain to get to stand still long enough to even TRY as a child.

- You wouldn't think it, with how classy she is-...buuuuuut she was almost a leash kid. You think she gets this intimidation factor just from being so classy and dramatic alone? No, she can be fucking FERAL when she wants to be. Sometimes the Sinnoh League will have trouble finding her to get her to report to her champion duties as she's gotten distracted and wandered off to explore some ruins somewhere in the region and never told anyone where she was going. 

- She used to and still can climb trees in seconds if left unattended. This has lead to many a heart-attack for her grandmother, watching her little baby Cynthia nearly DIE falling out of said tree, only to be completely unharmed and even LAUGHING at the experience. 

- Actually is a REALLY big fan of the wrestling/battle royale circuit. She can and will burst out singing some of the intros at the top of her lungs, much to the shock of ANYONE in the room with her. 

- She also happy dances and likes to put on music when she works. She loves piano but even she can't resist a good earworm, humming along to it as she runs around the local library or (reluctantly) winds up cooped up inside doing or cleaning up paperwork. This is implied to be canon in a spinoff game (Pokemon Masters EX if you're curious) and I totally agree that she just-cannot be bothered to clean up her office and it's almost CONSTANTLY a mess because she keeps getting distracted by new things to look at or something she hadn't seen in ages (BECAUSE of the mess) like a book and just winds up reading it all day. It's a vicious cycle!

- The reason she loves piano so much is she actually knows how to play, and is VERY Good at it! A very dear member of her family taught her when she was very young and she plays to help remember him-wherever the hell he's wandered off to now. Music connects us just as much as pokemon do, in her mind-so whenever she plays, he's right beside her again-whether physically or not. 

- She has inherited the family 'way too fucking tall' gene and that does NOT help her intimidating appearance sometimes.

- Sometimes casually speaks fluent Latin/Greek just to confuse the shit outta people. Look, she isn't usually spiteful-but even the most graceful and kind people have their limits. The same person who taught her piano taught her it-probably for that express purpose. Also several swear words. (thankfully if she ever swears, it's in said language so hardly anyone will know-)

- She grew up feeling-quite isolated from others her age because of her intense focus on studying history and battling competitively. Mostly the history thing-the battling thing probably didn't help as most kids were likely TERRIFIED of how intense she got. But-...i think that's why she loved that member of her family so much. Finally, someone who understood her...! He'd even given her the egg that would hatch into her Garchomp. (It was SUPPOSED to be a togepi, that wouldn't cause much hassle aside from the occasional accident with metronome-...but NOOOOOO, he decided to let her cause havoc. Her grandma nearly smacked him.)

- Honestly if you told her you were a demon or some supernatural shit she'd probably be more fascinated and barrage you with questions than scared. Or kick ass if you were hostile-DO. NOT. FUCK. WITH THE CHAMPION OF SINNOH.

- She may or may not be guilty of spoiling hers and other people's Pokémon with treats. She can't help it! She has a WEAKNESS for puppy dog eyes, whether it be her own Pokémon, any she's babysitting (she feels like someone who would do that if asked) Or young trainers she's taken a shine to. 

- Wound up with a heavy ass, GIGANTIC hand-me-down backpack from who-knows how many generations ago and yes, she CAN lug it around with ease. She doesn't much for her league job, but it's her go-to when it comes to adventuring or exploring.  - Speaking of the backpack-she often carries her spiritomb outside of its pokeball inside while in particularly rough areas, usually hiding inside its keystone. You never know if you'll need a pokemon for backup and don't have time to reach for one of your pokeball before things get dicey, after all-and the sight of a very angry ghost and dark type pokemon erupting from an ancient backpack is more than enough to send anyone who would likely cause trouble PACKING-looking almost as if something is being summoned right behind her! (She doesn't know why she looks so terrifying that way, but at least it means no one will cause too much trouble)

- An absolute GIRLBOSS for sure-but also very, very soft when it comes to people she loves. She'll gush and gush about her family members-especially younger ones, or trainers she's mentally adopted (and she does this a lot.) as her own 'pack', so to speak. She'll try to tone it down if it makes them uncomfortable but it's so HARD-she feels so blessed to have people who love her for who she is, as strange and beautiful and intimidating and just a little bit odd as she can be that she just HAS to spread word about how amazing they are! (She's like one of those moms who shows off photos of her kids all the time, just not in an annoying way if that makes sense?? At least she tries not to be-but once she starts rambling about them or ANYTHING it is almost impossible to get her to stop!)

- Often makes hand gestures like pointing when she speaks, especially when she gets excited. She often doesn't realize she's doing it half the time-but she always does it when taking pictures. She just-feels like her hands HAVE to be doing something!

- I will not give away the massive spoiler this ties into but she OWNS the song Blood Right by Madame Macabre. JUST-IF YOU DONT WANT SPOILERS FOR LEGENDS ARCEUS, JUST-BE PREPARED YOU'RE IN FOR A RIDE!

#pokemon #pokemon cynthia #dppt #diamond pearl platinum #pokemon dppt #pokemon legends arceus #legends arceus spoilers #kinda??? #i mean it's in the thumbnail of the playlist so I hope that's ok #champion cynthia #sinnoh #pokemon diamond and pearl #pokemon platinum #pokemon brilliant diamond #pokemon shining pearl #pokemon gen 4 #Spotify

[yeetus-feetus]

tangled au (WIP)

Inspired by this ↓ post

Created by this ↓ account

@dragonpyre (I hope this is okay, you just really inspired me is all)

So here:

Jason, second heir to the throne of Gotham, was a happy little boy with a very loud personality. A former street kid, he was adopted into royalty at the age of 3 following his mother’s death, much like his older brother Richard, by the current King of Darkness. Make no mistake by the title he holds, Bruce Wayne is a very Just king though he cloaks himself in the fine fabrics of midnight and gold emblems that glitter like the stars.

But the young prince Jason was a ball of energy with a smart mouth and a baby as he were, often got on the wrong people's nerves. There was one man in particular, the Jester of the court– who was perhaps something more than a simple Jester to the King, maybe even a friend– had joined the Royal staff after a terrible accident that disfigured him many moons before Jason himself was even born.

On this day, Jason was only five when he trod on the odd man’s toes. He can’t remember what he’s said to the man, but it was something with loud youthful ignorance behind it, maybe something about his permanent smile and moon-pale skin. It wasn’t anything nice, to say the least, but who can blame a child of such brutal, unthinking honesty without the better knowledge on how such things were hurtful.

Maybe a man with a soft heart, and the belief he could give everyone in his Kingdom a better life and a second chance, should be blamed on keeping criminals and the insane in his company. Maybe a toddler in bright mocking colours shouldn’t have been left unattended to in the palace halls after a silly disagreement regarding his mother.

The wicked Jester did not return to the King’s court after that night.

Nor did the young Prince Jason. The boy was found in a puddle of his own bastard blood in a storeroom downstairs by the cellar, in teeny tiny shackles with his small bones shattered, tear streaks still wet on his cheeks as he lay limp on the cold cement floor.

The King had wept, cradling his broken body close to him, wailed and begged for the boy to come back to him, pleading for forgiveness from a child who was no more. The King of Darkness caressed the soft face of a lifeless shell, and that was when the shadows spoke.

A deep eerie voice had filled his ears from all directions, reminding him of a tale he had believed to be only myth. The story of the moon when she wept for her own son once very long ago …

A single tear of moonlight had fallen from the heavens, and from this small drop of sorrow bloomed a magic, glowing flower. It had the ability to heal the sick and injured– and in extremely rare cases, even raise the dead if the moon wished it so.

“However, the Flower of Lazarus is protected by a Demon whom hoards it for its youth restoring power”, the low voice warned. “And you have only until the fourth day, beginning when the sun breaks over your Kingdom at dawn, to retrieve it. For when the sun sets on that day, the boy will remain in a tomb forever.”

Bruce, because he is no King down here with a dead son in his arms, remains speechless and confused. Before he could gather his thoughts and interrogate the validity of this supernatural voice, a flock of bats screeched and swarmed and then the voice was gone.

And a man was left in a cold empty room with his beaten bloody son, fear and determination filling his heavy heart. A hope that in four days time, his son will be returned to the earth and fill the Palace with his laughter once more.

⧫

The quest carried out by the King’s Guard had proved successful, and the magic of the Lazarus Flower, brewed into a glowing green liquid potion heals the dead Prince’s body on the morning of the fourth day. A new tale of rebirth bringing the kingdom together as the King launched a floating lantern into the darkness of the night sky, a symbol of prevailing hope and new life, to celebrate the return of his beloved young son.

For that one moment, everything was perfect.

And then that moment ended.

A cloaked woman had entered young Jason’s room that very night by way of the balcony, silently creeping towards the boy’s bed where he slept soundly, unknowing to the threat of her presence. The woman pulls back her hood and strokes a deadly gentle hand up over his face until she reaches his soft baby curls as she sings in hushed tones.

“Flower gleam and glow”

And glow the child’s hair did, a bright green hue filling the room. She pulled a long lock of the glowing hair taught between calloused fingers, reaching into the deep green of her garments for the jewelled hilt of a small sharp knife as she continued.

“Let your powers shine”

The blade glinted in the unnatural light as the woman’s tan hand brought the sharpened knife up…

“Make the clock re–”

But as the knife sliced through the strands of hair it turned lifeless and lost its colour, turning moon-white and powerless. The shock and confusion was clear on the woman’s face, a frown carving its way into her beautiful features as she realised what she must do in order to fulfil her father’s wishes.

Just like that, Jason was stolen. Gone.

The Kingdom searched and searched, but their attempts at recovering the small boy proved nothing but futile and the King lost all his hope. They could not find the Prince of Gotham.

For deep within the forest, in a tall hidden tower, far away from his home, the woman– Talia Al Ghul– raised the child as her own.

#tangled au #jason todd #jason peter todd #jayroy #bruce wayne #alternate universe #batman

[celiciaa]

GILBERT VON OBSIDIAN EVENT STORY....

CHAPTER TWO.

Make me feel alive.

translations are not 100% accurate. expect mistakes.

trigger warnings: mentions of human trafficking, drugs

MINORS DNI.

━━FLASHBACK━━

Several decades ago, a series of deaths of members of the imperial family and powerful aristocrats occurred in Obsidian.

The story begins with the prince stabbing people to death, a horse-drawn carriage accident, a series of murders and injuries due to a love affair, and an execution….

The unfortunate events continued as if someone was pulling the strings behind the scenes,

Those who were drinking on the sweet honey of power were desperately trying to win over the remaining powerful people.

And the person that caught the attention of many people was a boy from the imperial family who was still young at the time.

The one-eyed boy carried a murderous presence, striding around the castle with a smile on his face amidst a succession of deaths of his royal family.

He has strong intelligence that rivals adults through his few words.

It didn't take long for people to see him as a royal vessel.

That the one-eyed boy will one day become an emperor.

The rumors spread like a fire on a fuse,

And people tried desperately to win his favor somehow.

━━FLASHBACK ENDS━━

Gilbert: It was funny back then. People who had never batted an eye at me before suddenly bowed their heads.

Gilbert: An old man kneeling to a little kid….

Gilbert: I wish I could show you how pitiful that sight was.

(….Lord Gilbert's childhood stories are always sad no matter how much I’ve listened to them.)

Gilbert: Ahaha, don't look so glum. We haven't even gotten to the main part yet, have we?

Emma: Is this topic related to your birthday?

Gilbert: Yeah. Think about it. If you were to try to win me over, what would be the first thing you'd do?

Emma: Bake a lot of sweets.

Walter: Please don’t…feed him plenty of sugar.

Emma: I-I’m sorry.

Gilbert: Keep your mouth shut if you don't want to die, Walter.

Walter: …It's my job to look after your health.

Gilbert: Putting this lousy man aside, your idea is correct. You'll give me something that will make me happy, right?

Gilbert: But a gift is something that cannot be given without a reason. That's where many people pay attention to——

Emma: It was…during your birthday….

Gilbert: Yes. People thought of me as a child back then. Children love presents, don't they?

Gilbert: One year ago, an incompetent aristocrat threw a birthday party for me.

━━FLASHBACK━━

Aristocrat: Happy birthday, Lord Gilbert.

Aristocrat: We would like to offer our blessings to His Highness, our family has made this rare stone——

Gilbert: Hehe, thank you. But I don't need that.

Aristocrat: Lord Gilbert?

Gilbert: I'm feeling sleepy today, so I'm heading back. Good night.

Aristocrat: P…Please wait!

Gilbert: Ahaha, don't worry. I have plans to meet you tomorrow.

Aristocrat: …Plans?

Gilbert: Yes, I'll see you on the execution site.

Aristocrat: !?

━━FLASHBACK ENDS━━

Gilbert: I killed him the next day.

Emma: Eh…

Gilbert: I’m telling you this as a primary example…

I was so shocked that my mind went blank.

Roderich: …He was executed for human trafficking and possessing illegal drugs.

Roderich: He used to be a black marketeer and trained unidentified orphans with drugs and sold them illegally, Lord Gilbert had been monitoring him for a long time——

Gilbert: Hey, did I give you the permission to speak?

His red eye that oozed murderous intent kept Mr. Roderich’s mouth shut in an instant.

Gilbert: Anyway, I killed him.

Gilbert: What was their opinion? Of course, I think celebrating my birthday caused some resentment.

Gilbert: After that year, there were no more daredevil fools.

Gilbert: I was happy to be able to wipe out all the people celebrating my birthday.

Emma: Why…do you hate being celebrated so much?

(Lord Gilbert’s birthday is a taboo for the Obsidianite people.)

(But the celebration itself isn't necessarily a bad thing.)

Gilbert: I wonder why?

Looks like he’s not going to talk about getting it to the core, and Lord Gilbert discarded his words behind his smile.

When I looked at Mr. Roderich and Mr. Walter, they just shook their heads.

(I bet no one knows the reason.)

Gilbert: Now, little rabbit. As I said before, it's almost my birthday.

Lord Gilbert got up from the bed, stood in front of me, wrapped his fingers around my neck, and squeezed it lightly.

Gilbert: Do you want to celebrate by risking your life? // Would you like to celebrate with the cost of your life?

 ▸       [  previous / next ]

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince spoilers #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #ikemen series #cybird #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri gilbert

[primofate]

The Ruthless Prince (Part 15) Scaramouche x fem!reader [Genshin Royal AU]

Summary: When Prince Scaramouche picks you out of a random group of commoners to marry, your life is turned upside down. He’s mean, snarky, condescending and he doesn’t act like a proper husband or prince at all. However, when Prince Tartaglia from the neighbouring kingdom takes an interest in you, Prince Scaramouche finds himself even more annoyed than usual. This is the story of him and you navigating this roller coaster of a relationship.

Warnings:  NOT PROOFREAD forgive me, longer than usual, a bit of fluff I guess?, medieval Karen alert

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary and a recap on the Royal AU plots are here.

Read other parts: (Ruthless Prince Masterlist)

You were distinctly aware that Scaramouche had sat next to you on the carriage enroute to the annual celebration. Before then, he’d always sat across you instead. Why were you paying attention to such details anyway? You’d been telling yourself not to overthink things, but it seems as if your mind just loved to wander,  especially after that small moment yesterday night. 

Try as you might to pretend that last night was nothing, probably just him being moody again, something inside you stirred in a way that had you curious, bordering on wondering if Scaramouche was actually starting to warm up to you…or maybe, possibly, even something more. 

You shook your head vigorously at the thought.

“What’re you doing?” Of course he had to notice and of course he had to give you a weirded out look. 

Your eyes darted towards and away from him all at once. “Uh…Nothing,” and then it was silent in the carriage again, up until the two of you arrived at the venue. 

It was a special one, unlike any other that you’ve been to before it actually looked simpler, yet it was still quite large with intricate ceilings and chandeliers, exotic looking windows and long elegant tables of food and drinks. 

Your arrival had to be announced. It was Scaramouche’s day and his presence was of the utmost importance. For some reason that didn’t bother you too much, though a lot of the attention would be on you for the night. Unlike usual gatherings, much of the guests were younger people. Possibly around your and Scaramouche’s age rather than the older nobles and aristocrats. 

Perhaps it was for that reason that you felt like there were a lot more stares on you than usual. 

“The opening dance will start in a few,” Scaramouche warned you, your arm hooked around his, a standard stance when the two of you enter a venue. 

A somewhat familiar face stops in front of the two of you. You reach back into your mind to look for her name. Ah. Right. Amaya. The young noble who saw you as nothing but dirt under her feet. 

“How can a nobody like you become the princess? We’ve all come from royal and pure blood, and then you, tainted and filthy like where you came from–there’s no way the prince would ever love you!”

You’ve seen her a few more times after that, in the same ladies tea party, but she didn’t speak up as much, seeing as the other nobles started warming up to you, regardless of your background. Amaya, however, you could see in the way she stood in front of the two of you that she was out for trouble.

“Prince Scaramouche,” she curtsied towards him, and completely disregards your presence next to him. Scaramouche’s eyebrows raise up, also noticing the lack of greeting towards you. Amaya wouldn’t even glance at you.

“Happy birthday, I’ve brought an extremely valuable artifact as a birthday present. I’m sure it’ll be to your liking,” Amaya was rather graceful. They all were. She motions her hand towards her left for a server to come forward. A perfect looking square shaped gift wrapped in golden paper was atop the tray he was holding, red ribbon encircling it. 

“If I may be so bold as to suggest something…I don’t believe she’s fit to do the opening dance with you…I heard that she hasn’t had the proper noble upbringing. I’m sure it’s stressful for her too,” Amaya threw you a fake smile as your eyes widened a little. She was really doing this in front of you, JUST as the two of you walk in. The night had barely even started and it was starting out with this, insinuating that you were nothing but commoner trash, and she wasn’t even done talking yet. “If you’d like, I’m confident that I’ll be able to do the dance flawlessly,”

Even the server holding the gift looked uncomfortable with her words. There was no world in which it was appropriate to suggest to the prince that he should do the opening dance with someone else who WASN’T his wife. The beginning was already looking grim for you.

There was a moment of silence, and you were at a loss for what to say, not knowing how far you could go with your words. However, a short snort of laughter cut through the tension, your eyes darted sideways, realizing that it was Scaramouche. There was a wide grin plastered on his face and he was looking at Amaya as if SHE was the trash beneath his feet. His momentary snickering gradually turned into chuckles, and his chuckles bellowed into obnoxious laughter, his head tipped back like a villain.

Your eyes were wide while Amaya was making her declaration, but they were full blown saucers now, watching Scaramouche laugh like a maniac and everyone in close vicinity was looking at him, astounded as well. “S-Scaramouche?” You started, wondering if he had finally gone crazy.

His laughing abruptly stopped and he leveled his gaze towards Amaya. His glare was unlike anything you’ve seen before. Sure, he always had one on his face, but this one was vicious, like you could be poisoned with just one look. And then, with humor in his voice, he asked Amaya “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Amaya was frozen in a second, and you couldn’t help but tug at Scaramouche’s arm with your own, like a mother who was embarrassed. You whispered at him, “Scara, just leave it,” you tugged again, but he didn’t budge. “You’re a great example of why I didn’t marry a noble, conceited witch,” 

“Scaramouche!” You hissed, aware of the eyes that were already turned towards your small group. Amaya was looking paler by the minute but Scaramouche was looking more entertained by the second. 

“Listen carefully, either you apologize or you’re going to leave and count on it that your family will be wiped out of noble existence,” Scaramouche gave his final command and Amaya immediately blurted out, looking straight at Scaramouche “I-I’m sorry! I apologize,” almost as if she didn’t know what was happening. 

But Scaramouche sneered, tipped his head sideways towards you and exclaimed, “to her,”

Amaya was horrified, but she still turned towards you, finally meeting your eyes and curtsied. “I-I-I” she seemed to be having some trouble.

“Now!” Scaracmouche was ruthless in his demands, and Amaya finally breaks.

“I apologize, princess!” you could hear the tremble in her voice. Shamed and embarrassed, she turned around and fled to the restrooms, you could almost see her watery eyes in your mind’s eye. The server was left standing there with the gift and Scaramouche clicked his tongue. “Throw that out, I want nothing from that family,” and finally tugged at you to retreat over to one of the tables with drinks. 

Scaramouche unwound his arm from yours and took one of the champagne glasses flawlessly, taking a sip from it as if nothing had happened and you were left staring at him, jaw slack and open. “Scaramouche, you can’t just–” you blinked, and looked around to see if anyone was staring at the two of you, then your eyes darted between crowds to see if you could catch a glimpse of Amaya again. Strange enough, part of you felt bad, despite the fact that Amaya was the one who struck first.

“Quit looking so worried, I’m the crown prince,” Scaramouche watches as your eyebrows scrunch up in worry. He doesn’t understand what’s got you so riled up or anxious. “Don’t waste your time over that hag.” and he meant it. You knew because his hand flew over to your chin and forced your gaze away from the crowd and towards him. “Stop. Forget about it,” 

Easy for him to say. He must be so used at making people feel like crap. You opened your mouth to say something, but he spoke sooner than you did. “If she isn’t showing respect then she doesn’t deserve it either,” then he dropped his hand away from your chin, but your gaze stayed on Scaramouche. Your shoulders relaxed. He had a point, but it was really strange coming from Scaramouche’s mouth. 

It’s as if when it came to other people he knew what the rules were, but for himself…it’s like etiquette didn’t matter. He could be rude and snappy all day long and yet he wouldn’t expect anyone to talk back to him.

You took in a long breath while closing your eyes and sighed it out just as slow. You kept your eyes closed for a moment longer before opening them with a half defeated and half accepting grin. “Alright, fine…I’ll just…wipe everything over, pretend it didn’t happen and get on with this party,” then you set your hand out to him. “Opening dance?” Suddenly you had the determination to show others that you DID know how to do the opening dance properly. Amaya be damned.

Despite being in close proximity of each other during the actual opening dance, it didn’t have the same intimacy as it did the night before. Perhaps because there were people looking at the two of you, scrutinizing the dance and probably whispering about how the two of you had no chemistry at all, or something. Nevertheless it ended without a hitch, and unlike the night before, you and Scaramouche came apart as soon as the dance finished, but your hands stayed together as you walked off the dance floor and onto another table with food.

He glanced sideways at you. “You were a little stiff,” he commented and you swerved your head towards him with a glare. 

“I was nervous, what do you expect?” It didn’t really feel great to be told that when you were so determined to show others that you had “perfected” the dance. 

“...It wasn’t a poor performance…but being stiff just makes you…heavier,” Scaramouche continued to talk as if he didn’t know he was digging his own grave.

“Oh now you’re calling me heavy! That doesn’t even make sense–I’m the same weight all throughout the dance!” you hissed at him and he turns to look at you with a blank look on his face as the two of you walk, though it looks as if he’s about to say something mischievous.

“...Then maybe you’re just naturally heav–”

“Prince Scaramouche! Princess Y/N!” You fumed at him, though he didn’t finish his sentence, he has a grin on his face. The two of you turn to see Kokomi curtsying towards the two of you. Your mood instantly brightens up. 

“Kokomi!” You can’t help but break away from Scaramouche’s hold on your hand and greeted Kokomi with a hug. She seemed like such a good break from a terrible start of the evening. Kokomi receives it and greets Scaramouche as well. 

“Happy birthday, prince,” she nodded and Scaramouche only let out a hum. “It seems like the two of you are getting along better these days,” Kokomi comments as you slide away from her hug and back to Scaramouche’s side.

“Nonsense.” Scaramouche pipes up right at the same time as you say “Hardly.” with a roll of your eyes. But Kokomi giggles, hiding her laugh behind her hand and moves on to a different topic. She fetches a black box from her sleeve, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand and hands it over to Scaramouche. “It’s done, milord. There should be no issues whatsoever with it,” She sounded so proud, but you had no idea what was in the box, and Scaramouche looked as if he didn’t have an idea too.

So, the first thing he did was receive it, and opened the top. There were two rings resting inside the velvet of the box. One was clearly for a female. A simple, silver band ring with a pearl embedded into the middle. The other was a larger and thicker ring. It was silver as well, but it had a mysterious sheen to it, like it wasn’t completely made of silver. 

Then it hit Scaramouche, a quiet “Oh,” escaping his lips. He closed it back and pocketed the box of rings. Kokomi looked far too pleased with herself. You only blinked, confused. “Is that… a gift?” you asked the two of them. 

Scaramouche doesn’t answer but Kokomi gives you an explanation. “For generations, our clan has been tasked to make pearl rings for the future king and queen. These rings are exchanged during the first birthday in which the prince has been wedded. They’re quite special, you see. The Sango pearls we use are one of a kind, magical properties are infused into the material and…well, you’ll experience it yourself later,” 

“Oh,” you let out just like Scaramouche did earlier. “I didn’t know about that,” your gaze moves to Scaramouche, and he feels it on him, questioning him as to why he didn’t say anything about it earlier. 

“...I forgot,” he simply said, and you buy it but you deflate, wondering if he really was fit for the role of king. He just…didn’t know how to communicate with anyone. 

“Why was it not exchanged during the wedding instead?” You ask Kokomi curiously, who is oh-so happy to answer your questions. 

“Back then the rings were originally simple gifts from the Sangonomiya clan to the crown prince on his birthday. I suppose that tradition just stuck despite some changes on the rings itself. So, in a way, you could say that it’s simply a birthday gift,” She brought her hands together with a pleasant smile. 

Come to think of it, the wedding rings that the two of you exchanged during the wedding were…fake. Just for show. You exchanged them during the ceremony but they were taken off as soon as the whole thing was over and you didn’t see them again. Perhaps these were like replacements, or maybe the real ones. 

“Perhaps the prince can explain more about the rings if time allows. Now then, I’ll have to catch up with you later, princess,” Kokomi curtsied again, and smoothly leaves the conversation. Without her there it’s as if the two of you are back to your gruff demeanors. 

You cross your arms on your chest and say “Well?” to fish out an explanation from Scaramouche. He lolls his head lazily towards you. “You’ll see later, they’ll make a big show of us exchanging the rings, after we cut my birthday cake.”

Oh great. You thought to yourself. The whole thing was quite literally a show. Scaramouche’s birthday show for all the young nobles to see. It was rather horrifying and just as you thought you didn’t mind the attention, it really did seem like all of it would be on you for the rest of the night. 

Surprisingly, you and Scaramouche seemed to share the same thought. He didn’t like these theatrics either, and so the two of you silently agreed to just hang out on one table together, discreetly eating some food unless a noble disturbed the two of you and engaged in conversation. However, these ones were not that adept at making long conversations. The young ones would say something about the weather, ask how the two of you were and would have nothing else to talk about and leave almost instantly. 

It was like a blessing in disguise. 

When Scaramouche’s birthday cake was rolled out, you had to tip your head up to see the entirety of it. It was a royal lavender colour, and you didn’t bother to count how many tiers there were, it looked as if one poke would tip it over.

The announcer was talking. Something about celebrating Scaramouche’s birthday and it being a joyous occasion. You tuned it all out cause all you were focused on was not making a fool of yourself while the others watched on and clapped in awe at how grand the cake was. 

Scaramouche was passed a knife and he took it. Then, with the knife still gripped in his hand he seemed to offer it to you. “We’re supposed to cut it together,” You blink at him but follow suit, lest you would just stand there like a fool. You placed your hand atop his which was holding the cutting knife and just followed as his hand hovered above the cake. There was a countdown, and both of your hands pushed down through a piece, making a clean cut and perfect slice.

That piece of cake was set aside on a plate, possibly for the two of you to enjoy later. The theatrics didn’t stop there. It was the ring exchange now, and Scaramouche still looked as bored as ever as he fished it out of his pocket. 

“May our hearts always be connected,” Your head jerks up as you hear Scaramouche utter the words. It takes you a moment to realize that he’s picking up your left hand, ring ready on his other. You can’t stop the goosebumps that rise behind your neck, making you shiver. The words seemed out of place in his mouth, with his expression so blank it’s hard to think that he’s sincere, but then his eyes hold yours, there seems to be a slight squeeze on your hand as he slips the ring around your ring finger. “...no matter the distance, you’ll always be protected,” 

He finished just as the ring rests snugly on your finger, and he takes a moment to admire it on your hand, still splayed atop his. 

The sentences he said were your short wedding vows, and though it’s your second time hearing it, there’s something different about it this time around. “I–” You start, when you realize that it’s supposed to be your turn. You remember yours clear as day, because the two of you had practiced it back then, endlessly. 

His eyes follow your every move, from the way you picked up his ring, to the way there was a slight tremble in your hand when you picked up his. “I vow to always be by your side…” Your hands are a little cold, he notes…and yet…why does he feel nothing but warmth, watching your lips move to recite the vows? “...To be your shelter, your strength…and your bride,”

As you place the ring in the correct place on his finger, the two of you move your head at the same time, meeting each other’s gazes. Your lips are slightly apart in wonder. 

When did it become easier to say those words?

“Y/N,” Scaramouche rarely says your name, but when he does it sounds like a delicacy. Something that you only enjoy once in a while. You realize he calls your name to warn you, your heart suddenly leaps out of your chest and starts galloping like a frenzied horse.

You’re supposed to kiss. Why did no one tell you about this?

Scaramouche’s hand easily rests on the side of your face. You don’t think you’re ready for this. You’re slightly panicking and you only hope it isn’t evident as he starts to dip closer–

BANG!

You startle and jump, instinctively clutching at Scaramouche’s coat when the ballroom starts to register that someone had come in rather forcefully. There are sudden whispers all around you and it seemed as if the atmosphere had changed drastically. Scaramouche still has his hand on your cheek when he turns to face the intruder striding towards the two of you. 

Prince Tartaglia approaches. 

In full armor and battle gear, knights following behind him.

You aren’t aware that the pearl on your ring suddenly glows a fiery red.

Scaramouche has time to glance at his, the pearl sheen on his ring turns dark, almost black under the light. Then, as if reading your emotions clearly, he states “Being afraid does nothing,” he drops the hand that was on your cheek, and subtly places himself in front of you as Tartaglia nears. “Besides, I’ll make quick work of this uninvited bastard,” 

Scaramouche grins, and it’s as if an unspoken war had just started. 

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[icarusignite]

Can you make a part 3 to “Like an old melody, my heart resumes”? Part 2 was so angst and I love angst. Daeron literally showed deep down of his is green and that was really canon. Can we see jealous Daeron in part 3? Thank you for your effort to write this beautiful fic.

Like an old melody, my heart resumes | Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: i have risen from the dead to write a part 3 for this. sooo sry for the immense delay 💀😭😭😭 i have tried to deliver some more angst and jelly daeron, but since this is the final part, it does have a happy end. Hope u enjoy <33

Word Count: 5.2k

Pairing: Daeron x Fem! Reader | (angst, hurt/comfort, happy end)

In the Red Keep, preparations for the impending nuptials of the youngest prince, Daeron, were in full swing. The castle was a beehive of activity, with every corner bustling with servants, artisans, and nobles, all working tirelessly to ensure that the wedding would be a spectacle of grandeur and opulence.

The castle's kitchen staff worked around the clock, concocting mouthwatering feasts that would delight the most discerning palates. Roasts, game meats, and freshly caught fish were all being prepared with the utmost care and attention to detail. The scent of roasting meats and freshly baked bread wafted through the corridors, creating an irresistible allure for anyone who passed by. Meanwhile, seamstresses and tailors toiled away to create the most breathtaking wedding attire for the royal couple. 

Yet, amidst the bustling activity, a strange tension hung in the air. It was no secret that the Prince and his betrothed had been spending their days avoiding each other. The once inseparable duo had inexplicably distanced themselves from one another. The nobles, who had overheard the heated argument between the two of you just days prior, couldn't help but gossip and speculate about the cause of your sudden estrangement.

Rumours spread like wildfire throughout the castle, with many whispering that your engagement might be on the brink of collapse. The nobles were eagerly waiting for any sign that the young couple's love had soured, as it presented a golden opportunity to push forth their own sons and daughters as potential candidates for marriage with the Targaryen family. It was a chance to secure their own family's prestige and power.

You, consumed by uncertainty and internal turmoil, found solace in Helaena. She was a gentle and kind-hearted soul, but despite her best efforts to console you, and assure you of her brother's love, your restless mind seemed insurmountable. After all, Helaena wasn't there when he called you a bastard, when he called your mother a whore. You could never forgive him, but it still made you ache in a way that felt like someone was scraping a rusted fork across the walls of your heart, repeatedly slow. Still, you allowed Helaena to fill your head with her sweet words, spending hours with her strolling through the gardens. 

Your unease was unrelenting. As the wedding day drew nearer, you contemplated the possibility of confronting King Viserys himself and refusing the marriage altogether. Yet, the sight of the aging king's unwavering joy and anticipation for the upcoming celebration filled you with guilt. Every time he saw you, he spoke animatedly of his excitement and blessings for the wedding and the prospect of disappointing him and the entire realm felt like an unbearable weight on your shoulders. It felt as though someone had tied iron weights to your feet and cast you into a seemingly bottomless ocean. 

To add insult to injury, you were well aware of what the other nobles said behind your back. The rumours of you and your siblings being bastards started circulating with renewed ferocity, and with everyone hoping for your engagement to fail, a part of you wanted to prove them right and end it right then. It was clear that your so-called betrothed couldn't care less for you as he had not even come to see you once. Even during meal times, one of you always managed to come up with some excuse to avoid attending, and you hadn't seen him since the day he had irreparably broken your heart. 

"What's gotten into you, brother? You look as if you've been denied your favourite wine."

It was Aegon, standing against his younger brother's doorframe, his arms crossed and an amused expression on his face. Daeron sat at his writing desk, a dark cloud over his countenance. His frown grew at his brother's words. 

"Not everyone is a drunkard like you brother!"

Aegon lifted his hand to his chest in mock offence, a mischievous glint in his eyes. His grin grew wider and he quirked an eyebrow, wanting to tease Daeron even more now. 

"Well, you certainly are in a foul mood. Have a little lover's spat with your beloved betrothed?"

Daeron's head snapped up, his eyes flashing with irritation. "Don't speak her cursed name," he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice laced with venom.

"Ha! Cursed is she now? What, was she not fun to bed?"

Daeron's blood curdled at hearing Aegon speaking that way about you but the resentment he harboured against you outweighed that and that is why he let the next words slip past his lips. 

"As if I'd want to bed the likes of her."

Aegon rolled his eyes, "You are going to be married to her. You can't not bed your own wife."

"She'll call off the wedding. She'd be stupid not to."

Aegon's amusement evaporated as he studied his brother's face, searching for any trace of jest in his words. However, Daeron's expression remained deadly serious, and the raw emotion in his voice was unmistakable. Aegon took a step closer, his playful demeanour replaced by some semblance of concern. 

"Do you want her to call it off?"

Daeron shrugged, "It will be for the best."

"Then call it off."

"What?"

"If you don't want to marry her, call it off," Aegon pointed out matter-of-factly. 

Daeron almost laughed. Aegon was a fool but sometimes he let slip the occasional kernel of wisdom. 

"If you really didn't want to marry her, you'd call it off yourself," Aegon repeated. "My brother is a lot of things, but he is no coward."

Daeron did laugh this time. Aegon was wrong. He was a coward. He was the biggest coward. Of course, he wanted to marry you, and he would never break off your betrothal but he was a coward. He wanted you to be the one to end it so he could blame you for yet another thing.

"I mean, you might as well call it off so the rest of the fine lords vying for her attention can finally have a chance."

"Pardon?"

"Don't be daft. Surely you must have noticed, the sudden influx of nobles milling about the Red Keep. The unfortunate state of your relationship is no secret and there are plenty of lords who would give an arm and a leg to be our half-sister's son-in-law."

"No..." Daeron blinked, an unpleasant feeling blooming in his chest. "She wouldn't-"

"You react to her as if she's a plague. Do not delude yourself into thinking that she cannot find a man better suited to her," Aegon winked at him. "Who are you to deny her if she can find a man who brings her greater pleasure."

"Don't be foul!"

"I only speak the truth brother. Either accept it or change it."

Daeron let out a long sigh and leaned back in his chair, his eyes gazing out the window at the moonlit courtyard below. "You don't understand," he began, his voice more resigned than angry. "You don't know about the false accusations she made...and the things I said to her in retaliation. There is no fixing this."

"False accusations? What, did she catch you with some kitchen maid and accuse you of being unfaithful? Tell your dear future wife-to-be that it is simply the nature of men," Aegon drawled sarcastically.

"I would never do that!" Daeron protested sharply. 

"Oh, don't act like you're better than me. Surely you must have had plenty of bedmates in Oldtown. Do not lie to your own brother."

"I am not like you," Daeron gritted out through clenched teeth. "I have never...done that sort of thing."

"Liar."

"I am not lying. I have never thought of anyone-"

Daeron paused in the middle of his sentence, not wanting to continue his train of thought. 

I have never thought of anyone other than her.

You had been the only thing on his mind. All his life, from the moment he was old enough to know what it meant to want someone, to yearn for someone, it had always been you. All those years in Oldtown, it was the memory of you that sustained him, even when it seemed as though you had forgotten all about him. Now that memory had soured, when he remembered the way you had accused Lord Ormund, a man who had been his father in every way his real father had failed him, which was to say in every way possible. 

The next morning, both Aegon and Aemond decided to take their youngest brother on a leisurely stroll through the castle gardens. The idea had been solely Aegon's, and he took the lead, orchestrating the pace and direction of their stroll. Aemond followed, his silence like an imposing shadow. Daeron, still lost in the maelstrom of his thoughts, complied without much enthusiasm. It came as some surprise, to see his oldest brother so invested in his matters but he supposed he should be grateful. In times of emotional turmoil, Helaena was his chosen person of comfort but since you seemed to be permanently glued to her side lately, he had no choice but to give her place to Aegon. 

As they rounded a corner, the sound of soft laughter reached their ears. Aegon grinned and continued forward, unperturbed. The laughter grew clearer as they approached, and soon, they emerged into a sun-dappled clearing. There, seated beneath the shade of a massive oak tree, was the last person Daeron expected to see. You sat with your back to him, looking radiant in the warm sunlight as it cast an ethereal glow across your visage. So enamoured was he by you, that it took him a few more moments to notice that you had company. Helaena and another poshly dressed gentleman sat around you. The man was engaged in animated conversation, his hands flying through the air as he spoke. You and Helaena leaned in, eyes alight with amusement as you listened to his tales, your laughter like tinkling bells.

Aegon paused, his eyes scanning the scene. He glanced at his younger brothers, who were somewhat taken aback by the sight before them. He made a subtle signal for them to continue moving, ensuring Daeron would have a clear view of you and the charming stranger. Aemond shot him a questioning glare but he only winked in response. 

Daeron watched, his heart clenching as he observed your joy in the company of another man. It was a scene that struck at the core of his misery, causing his own unhappiness to deepen. Then, almost as if taunting him, the stranger leaned forward ever so slightly, his charming demeanour and engaging conversation drawing your attention. 

Daeron clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. The pain, however, went unnoticed, overshadowed by the searing heat that coursed through him. His heart pounded in his chest, and his jaw was set in a rigid line, as he watched the scene unfold with a mixture of despair and frustration.

He was convinced that the gentleman would lean in to steal a kiss from you, a thought that tormented him beyond measure. It was as if his world had turned to chaos, and he was helplessly witnessing the unravelling of everything he held dear. Blood welled up from the tiny crescents on his palms, but he was oblivious to the physical pain.

However, the stranger's actions took a different turn. Instead of a kiss, he reached forward to brush a stray leaf that had become entangled in your tresses. As his fingers gently traced the contours of your hair, Daeron's heart sank. You looked up at the stranger with a touch of abashment, as he held the leaf aloft, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

It was enough to make your betrothed's blood boil with jealousy. He felt a burning rage that threatened to consume him, and it took all his self-control not to rush forward and confront the stranger, to shake him by the collar and slice through him with his sword. 

Aemond scowled at Aegon, understanding to some degree, the mischievous game he was playing as they both watched their youngest brother try and school his expression. He looked like a tightly wound spring, and when Aemond moved to lead them away from the scene, Aegon grabbed his arm and aggressively shook his head. They had to stay. He had to stay and watch you. 

The stranger's fingers brushed your hand, and at that moment, all sense of rationality fled from Daeron's mind. His vision blurred, and his heart pounded even louder in his ears. He was so consumed by his own emotions that he didn't notice your immediate reaction.

In that instant, you withdrew your hand from the stranger's touch. A small frown creased your lips, and a glint of discomfort flashed in your eyes. You had only come out to the gardens at Helaena's request, not seeking the unwelcome advances of an amorous suitor. While you may not have been on the best of terms with your betrothed, you were still a woman spoken for, and you found the stranger's egregious flirting quite annoying. You glanced at Helaena who smiled at you placatingly, gesturing at you to remain seated. When you lowered your gaze to the floor, she flashed Aegon a quick scowl, knowing that all three of her brothers stood there watching. Then her eyes widened in alarm at the approaching figure of her youngest brother, his face a twisted mask of fury. His steps were heavy and resolute, and if looks could kill, the poor gentleman would be long dead.

Daeron came to a stop in front of him, his piercing gaze locking onto the stranger's eyes. His chest heaved with each deep breath he took, trying to control the fury that simmered within him. For a moment, he stood in silence, his gaze shifting between you and the stranger, his emotions churning like a tempest.

Then, with a sudden, almost aggressive movement, Daeron reached out and grabbed your hand. His grip was firm, almost painful, as he yanked you up from your seat. The abruptness of his actions took you by surprise, and you looked at him with wide eyes, your expression a mix of shock and confusion.

Daeron, his voice laced with anger and frustration, hissed, "We need to talk. Now."

Without waiting for a response, he pulled you away from the group and deeper into the gardens, his strides long and forceful, as if he were trying to put as much distance as possible between the two of you and the others.

Back in the clearing, Aegon grinned and slapped the gentleman on the shoulder amicably. 

"You have my sincerest gratitude for your assistance, Ser Atticus," he winked. 

The gentleman, Ser Atticus, smiled and bowed his head at the oldest prince.

"You set this up?" Aemond scoffed. "I should have known, after all, you're not exactly one to enjoy morning strolls in the garden."

"I was only trying to help our dear brother confront his feelings. He will thank me later."

"You better hope this works," Helaena grumbled. "If my niece has been hurt due to your recklessness, you will regret it dearly."

Aegon clutched his heart, "Oh dear sister, you wound me. She is my niece too. I would never wish to hurt her. She will thank me too. This way both young fools will be able to discuss their true feelings."

Meanwhile, Daeron led you away to a secluded corner of the garden, where the lush foliage provided a curtain of privacy. You pulled away your hand from his bruising grip, glaring at him venomously. 

"Well then?" you raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Spit it out, you clearly look like you have a lot to say. Do grace us with your words, my prince."

You drawled the words, my prince, mockingly, sneering at him to speak. 

"What in the Seven Hells were you thinking? Allowing that man to behave so familiarly with you in public. Are you trying to humiliate yourself, you-"

Daeron did not get a chance to finish before he was slammed against the hard trunk of the massive tree behind him. He stopped short, his breath escaping his lips in a surprised exhale. Then his breath caught once again at your proximity. Your hands fisted his collar, and your eyes blazed with unrestrained fury as you glared daggers at him. Despite your smaller stature, you somehow managed to look down your nose at him. 

"Go on then," you seethed, your white-knuckled grip tightening in the fabric of his tunic, looking just moments away from strangling him. "Finish that sentence. What was it you were going to call me? A whore? A bastard? What new word has your drunkard cunt of a brother taught you to use? Let us see your expanded vocabulary now!"

Daeron watched your anger and frustration manifest in your sparkling eyes, and the way your mouth twisted into a deadly grimace. Amid the chaos, a singular, traitorous thought rose in his mind, amidst the anger and confusion that had gripped him.

"Say it so that I may have the pleasure of ripping your tongue from between your teeth with my own hands."

He couldn't help but notice the way the sunlight cast shadows against your face, the way your fiery eyes held a flicker of vulnerability, and the angry tears that clung to your lashes. In that moment, a strange and conflicting desire welled up within him. He wanted to reach out, to brush away the tears and caress your cheek, to taste the anger on your lips, to taste the blood that you would undoubtedly draw. 

However, Daeron did none of those things because Daeron was a fool and when he opened his foolish mouth, the words that came out were far from what he truly wanted to convey. 

"If you're that desperate for another man's attention, perhaps you should consider calling off our wedding altogether."

Your eyes widened in shock and disbelief, your anger momentarily replaced by a deep hurt. Then you laughed, a burst of brief maniacal laughter that had your betrothed looking at you with a strange expression on his face. You were a fool too after all. You were an utter fool if you thought that after your last argument, there was nothing else Daeron could say to hurt you. You thought you had heard the worst of it, but there was always more. There were always new ways to hurt and Daeron, it seemed, was an expert at finding just the right spaces between your ribs to plunge his dagger into. 

"Do it yourself, you coward!" you finally snarled, "or are you too afraid that you'll disappoint your father? Do not worry, you can't disappoint someone who never held any expectations for you."

Now it was Daeron's turn to flinch, your words hitting too close to that soft vulnerable place where his lungs contacted shakily against his ribcage. You scoffed at his speechlessness and slowly let go of his tunic, smoothing it down with trembling fingers, a false smile pasted on your face.

"Careful now, wouldn't want to be seen associating with a bastard, now would you," you smiled broadly. "Be sure to tell the king that you have changed your mind."

You smiled because if you didn't, you would cry and you would be damned if you let him see you cry again. You hit first so it wouldn't hurt when he did it. If you turned it into a joke, then it wouldn't sting when he turned you into one. 

Daeron remained rooted in place, watching you walk away from him for the second time that week. It was becoming a habit of his. He felt equal parts guilty and furious, and he didn't quite know how to deal with it.  

"Daeron, my boy, it's good to see you. How does it feel to be back at home in the Red Keep?"  Lord Ormund's voice was warm and comforting as he reached out to ruffle Daeron's hair affectionately.

Daeron stood awkwardly in Lord Ormund's doorway, stepping inside hesitantly. At his lack of response, the lord's eyes filled with empathy as he guided his nephew to a pair of comfortable chairs near the window. He gestured for Daeron to sit, then called for the maids to bring some refreshments. 

"Well, my boy," Lord Ormund began, "you know that you can always come to me when you need to talk. I'm here to listen and help in any way I can."

"Thank you. I needed someone to talk to."

As the maids brought in a tray of refreshments and poured tea for both of them, Lord Ormund smiled, "Now, Daeron, let's take your mind off your worries for a while. How about a game of chess? It might help clear your thoughts."

Daeron nodded, appreciating his uncle's efforts to distract him from his troubles, "That sounds like a good idea. I could use a distraction right now."

As the game of chess progressed, Daeron tried to muster the courage to inquire about the missing letters that you had claimed were purposely hidden from him during his time in Oldtown. He knew he had to tread carefully, as he didn't want to offend Lord Ormund by accusing him based on mere rumours. Daeron respected Lord Ormund deeply and held the belief that he wouldn't intentionally harm him. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but feel the need to confirm the matter for himself.

Taking a deep breath, Daeron broached the subject, his words carefully chosen. 

"Lord Ormund, I've been pondering something," he began. "I was wondering if there might have been any chance that some letters were misplaced or overlooked, during my stay in Oldtown."

Lord Ormund paused for a moment, a flicker of unease crossing his features, though it was subtle. He carefully considered Daeron's question and replied, "Well, my boy, it is possible that sometimes letters get misplaced, especially with the volume of correspondence we receive. Is there a particular letter that you are inquiring about?"

"No, not in particular. I was simply wondering. I have a few acquaintances here in King's Landing who claim they were unable to reach me so I thought I'd inquire about the matter."

"Of course. As I said, these things happen from time to time. Communication is lost from time to time. However, you are here now, so you may reassure them in person."

Daeron appreciated his uncle's reassurance but couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. He decided to probe a bit further, maintaining his gentle tone. "I understand, my lord. I don't mean to doubt your integrity, but I've heard certain rumours, and I wanted to clear the air. I trust you completely."

Lord Ormund shifted uncomfortably in his chair, a subtle sign that Daeron didn't miss. He looked down at the chessboard for a moment before meeting Daeron's gaze. "I appreciate your trust, my boy, but there's nothing more to the missing letters. It was a simple case of some misplaced correspondence. Perhaps a page boy or two must be reprimanded when I return, but let's not dwell on it any longer."

Reluctantly, Daeron accepted Lord Ormund's insistence on moving past the subject, and they returned their focus to the chess game. However, the unresolved issue continued to weigh on Daeron's mind, leaving him with a sense of unease that he couldn't easily dispel. He wanted to banish the traitorous thoughts permanently from his head. What kind of person doubted the very person who had cared for him all these years? It felt wrong to doubt Lord Ormund's words, and yet, he couldn't get your tearful pleas to trust you out of his mind. 

That evening, Daeron couldn't shake his nagging doubts about the missing letters. Despite his earlier conversation with Lord Ormund, he found himself returning to his chambers once more, resolved to ask about the matter one final time, trusting that he would accept his uncle's word and let it rest.

As he approached Lord Ormund's door, he paused just outside, hesitant to interrupt what appeared to be a private conversation. He couldn't help but overhear the hushed, urgent tones of Lord Ormund and his grandfather, Otto Hightower.

"The boy is getting suspicious," Lord Ormund whispered, his voice tinged with concern. "You better make sure he finds out nothing. I will not have that boy hate me, not when I have raised him and loved him as my own."

"It's not my fault that you weren't able to do a better job at keeping him apart from that woman's daughter. You knew the stakes of their union, Ormund," Otto's response was low and urgent

Lord Ormund's response was laced with emotion, as he vehemently declared, "I didn't even care about keeping them apart. I only cared for my boy's happiness. I did it on your command, in the hopes that he would remain more focused on his duties and education."

In absolute horror, Daeron retreated backward, a sickening sort of guilt washing over him like a tidal wave. The weight of his actions, the hurtful and awful things he had said to you in the heat of anger and denial, began to suffocate him. It filled his lungs and dug its fingers in his throat, drowning him, dragging him under. 

He couldn't help but replay the words and accusations he had thrown at you in his mind. The memory of your hurt expression, the anger in your eyes, and the tears he had caused you to shed were a torment to his conscience. He knew that he had pushed you away, possibly irrevocably and that your relationship now lay in tatters.

Daeron couldn't bear the thought of you hating him, but he understood that he had given you ample reason to feel that way. He paced the hallway, the guilt and regret gnawing at him relentlessly. He needed to find you, to make amends, to tell you how deeply sorry he was, and that he would spend the rest of his days trying to make it right, even if he didn't deserve your forgiveness.

His feet led him through the familiar halls of the Red Keep, and he finally found himself standing before your chamber door. He knew you would be furious with him, and he had no idea if you would even open the door, but he couldn't bear the thought of not trying to make amends.

With trembling hands, he knocked on the door, a tentative sound that echoed in the quiet hallway. To his surprise, the door creaked open, revealing your forlorn form standing on the other side. You were still in your day dress, despite the late hour, and your eyes were rimmed with red as if you had been crying.

You scowled at the sight of him, moving to slam the door shut in his face, but he acted quickly, slipping inside before you could complete the motion. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized the enormity of what he had to do.

"Listen," he said your name softly, his voice trembling with emotion. "I... I need to talk to you." He could see you tense as if preparing for another argument, and he quickly added, "I want to apologize. I'm so, so sorry for what I said earlier. I should have believed you. I should have trusted you. I don't know what came over me, but I said terrible things, and I regret it more than you can imagine. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I need you to know that I'm truly, deeply sorry. I need you to know how much you mean to me."

"Get out," your voice was quiet. 

"No...no please just hear me out. I can't leave like this. I am a fool. I am a fool for not trusting you. For taking all the worst things and using them to hurt you, but I didn't mean any of it. I swear it. I-"

You interrupted him, voice edged with anger, "You hurt me, Daeron. You hurt me deeply. I don't know if I can ever forgive you for the things you said."

Daeron's heart sank at your words, but he couldn't blame you for your anger and hesitation. He nodded, swallowing hard as he replied, "I understand. I understand if you can't forgive me, but I can't bear the thought of losing you because of my foolishness."

It was getting harder and harder for you to keep your own tears at bay. 

"Please, leave."

Daeron dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands reaching out to clasp yours. His eyes were filled with raw, unfiltered regret. 

"I was wrong. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I love you. I'll spend my life trying to make it up to you...if you'll let me. Please, allow me to be yours, to be better for you." 

You were taken aback by the intensity of his remorse and sincerity. You felt conflicted, torn between the hurt you felt and the love you still harboured for him.

"Daeron, please... I need time," you pleaded, voice quavering as you struggled with your own emotions.

Daeron's grip on your hands tightened, his eyes pleading for your understanding, "I'll give you all the time you need. I'll wait forever if that's what it takes. Just give me a chance to show you that I'm the person who deserves you. I love you, and I'll prove it every day, I swear. it"

Your heart softened at the sight of his vulnerable state, his heart laid bare before you. Your resolve wavered. 

"Daeron, please," you began, voice faltering. 

But before you could say more, Daeron's voice cracked and fresh tears flowed down his cheeks, his desperation reaching a peak.

"I can't lose you. Please, let me make it right. Please, please, please. There is no one in this world I'd rather be with so please, let me just show you."

Your heart stirred, and almost unconsciously, you reached out, wiping away a tear from his cheek. He stilled almost immediately at your touch, leaning into your palm as his chest heaved. 

"Get up, Daeron."

When he stood before you once more, you reached out again to brush your fingers against his face tentatively. Daeron, in turn, gently wiped away your tears, his fingers tracing the contours of your face. His touch was tender and filled with adoration, and you couldn't help but melt into his touch. You knew that it was too soon to forgive him completely, that the hurt ran deep and would take time to heal, but you found yourself unable to resist the pull of his emotions.

Your defences were futile in the face of Daeron's adoration. You understood that he had hurt you, that he might do so again in the future, but for now, you loved him, and you allowed yourself to imagine that he loved you too.

Daeron leaned closer, and you felt his lips against your skin as he pressed soft kisses against the tears that stained your cheeks. His touch was apologetic and affectionate, and you felt your heart soften further, allowing yourself to be pulled into his chest.

He held you tight as if he were afraid you might slip away. Your arms encircled him, your head resting against his chest as you listened to the erratic beat of his heart. 

You felt Daeron's breath against your ear, and the words he whispered were soft and sincere, "I love you. I'll do whatever it takes to make this right. I will never give you another reason to complain, so please, just stay with me. Just stay, and don't go."

What else could you possibly do? He had asked you to stay, and so, you would stay forever. 

Tags: @lady-targaryens-world @uniquecroissant @bitchyunknownuser

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