#The Crimson Royal Family

[theroyalthrones]

Behind the Scenes | Capri, Monaco, Orillia

And, oh my love, I lied to you But I never needed to Oh my love, I lied to you But you always knew the truth

beginning | previous | next

transcript below↓↓

M] Where’s the money, Kai. You’re taking way too long.

M] Can’t you see my position?

K] Wow, am I supposed to feel bad?

M] Don’t get smart-

K] the bank is taking a while…

M] I don’t need to remind you what’ll happen.

K] sighs I can’t keep doing this for you.

M] You’ve got some sort of moral compass now?

K] offended I’ve changed.

M] laughing How could you ever change? You’re just as pathetic as you’ll ever be.

K] Get out.

M] She’ll never love you for who you are, never.

K]…

M] And you’ll be that pet forev-

lorraine knocks loud before more can be said. she walks into the room, with shocked and disgruntled faces greeting her. She walks in with a her perfect confidence.

L] Kai I wanted t- Am I interupting something?

K] Uh-

L] I need something from you… Privately please.

SHE LOOKS AT MALIAH, MALIAH LOOKS AT HER.

M] oh, uh- sure.

L] mhmm, Quickly.

KAI SITS THERE NERVOUSLY, AND MALIAH DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO SO SHE LEAVES.

Lorraine watches her go, in some sort of satisfaction. The office is quiet now, lorraine almost doesn’t know what to do. she hadn’t been thinking, but now standing in front of Kai seems awkward and a bit pathetic on her part. Lorraine goes to his side of the desk, and sits on it.

She doesn’t know when she started for yearn for his closeness. She wants to be near.

L] sighs.

he looks up at her, he always looks taken aback by her.

[ it should be mentioned that Kai never fell out of love with lorraine. but he has been hurt by her, and has wanted to stay away. But he’s never learned how to do that.]

[After the sigh, Lorraine and kai walk out to the car. Her chauffer says hello, and kai says goodnight. but to the suprise of Kai, she says that they’re going on a walk.]

C] Good evening, Your Highness… Mr. Alana. Will you be attending the event.

K] N-

L] Oh no, we’re going… to walk.

K] Walk?

L] mmhm.

Kai walks infront of Lorraine, looking a bit smug. Lorraine looks at him.

K] then let’s walk.

L] (chuckles)

[Do this still, just out at the street thing]

have him check out her legs or smth. ( i wanna fangirl)

L] What deep shit did you get yourself into, Kai?

K] What shit?

K] I don’t know…

L] I heard, ok?

K] pained Lorraine…

L] I’m a gifted eavesdropper, I’m sorry.

L] I can help you, really I can. I’ll do anything.

K] crying

L] anything..-

K] struggling i-I don’t want your help, Lorraine.

L] But wouldn’t it be easier?

K] I don’t want you apart of this, Lorraine. There are things- my past…

L] kai…

K] You could get hurt…

L] Kai.

K] You don’t know what I am, the things I’ve-

L] KAI!

she takes his face, and brings it into her hands. forcing him to look at her, she hold’s in gently.

L] I know who you are.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Source: Tatler

Princess of Wales Stuns Eurovision Fans with SURPRISING Cameo

15 May 2023

Eurovision fans were surprised when Catherine, Princess of Wales, made an unexpected appearance in the opening performance by Kalush Orchestra.

Behind the scenes photographs were released to mark her special role.

[beastsovrevelation]

Like I said, I haven't seen Season 2. And, this storyline is far from being uploaded (though, it's my favorite among my Good Omens WIPs).

Still, I'm frustrated, and feel like rewriting a few things (perfect time, I suppose).

I read some comment on Pinterest that Crowley and Beelzebub have sibling energy, and was hooked.

I now want to make them sisters in this one especially. The problem? Beelzebub is supposed to be Crowley's biggest detractor. They despise each other. And, my Antichrist despises Beelzebub, because she's an enemy to her mother. And, I'm very much in the "blood means alliance regardless of feelings" camp.

I mean, the situation could be interesting to explore. They're sisters, and they loathe each other. Beelzebub resents Crowley, for treason, as well as for not appreciating the honour she's endowed with (being the one to first tempt humankind, then becoming the Queen of Hell), and slacking on her duties. They're at a conflict, then reconcile. In truth, they had always loved one another. They'd kill and die protecting one another... Yes, of course, they'll still want to cut each other's throat a lot of the time. 😈

I think, I could add moments of tenderness in the timeline set around the Antichrist's birth, too, just to show they indeed love one another. For example, Beelzebub being by Crowley's side during the key moments, like the birth. Hell... In the later timeline, I had planned a scene where Beelzebub attacks Crowley with a dagger. But, it might as well still happen, then they reconcile. Satan wouldn't even be surprised, he has the same dynamic with Michael. Meanwhile, Maxine would simply be thankful she's the only child (not completely true, but true enough), as siblings in her family are... Yeah.

Beelzebub could get knocked up by Gabriel. Crowley would get incentive to be protective of her sister, like she had been of her. I don't know about this story, but in some story, probably, that'll hapen. It's very beneficial... Politics-wise. I doubt any child would benefit from having these two

as parents...

They (Crowley and Beelzebub) will definitely be siblings in the dream scenario I had talked about (I said I'll put it aside, but I picked at the birth scene already, because I was inspired 🤡). But, siblings with a twist... Think, Crimson Peak AU (this isn't the one, but still). I guess, in this one I can explore actual tenderness between them, far before their relationship takes a turn towards... Well, incest.

All in all, I'll make them siblings in some of my WIPs, but about others, I'm not certain. I guess, it would thicken the fucked up layer in one of them... No, that has nothing to do with incest.

I wanted to put my thoughts into a somewhat coherent form, but, if you stumbled upon this, do tell me... I don't know, what you think. There's so much potential to this dynamic. The sibling one, I mean.

P.S. - Beelzebub is always female in my works, but she's still addressed as "my Lord". Just a random... Headcanon?

[madamechrissy]

Cursed Promises

Pairings: Sukuna x Fem reader

CW: This chap, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, Sukuna calls you little bunny lmao, soft Sukuna in places, reader is a lil innocent thing, gonna get A LOT freakier as we go, true form Sukuna

Summary: You have been promised to Ryomen Sukuna, King of curses, for as long as you've been alive, ostracized from your village, 'special'. Now you are to marry him, sight unseen. People everywhere fear him, but will you find yourself intrigued by him. Just who is the King of Curses to his new wife? Arranged marriage au

A/N: Finally writing Sukuna oof I'm nervous aha- SMUT with feelings. Gonna be like four parts to this, so a short fic! Monsterfking and fluff lol- Taglist open <3 Comments/ reblogs appreciated ❤️

Part Two>>>

Part One

Today, you are to marry King Ryomen Sukuna, the demon king of curses, you’ve known this your whole life, this is what you were chosen for. The special girl in your village raised to one day be his bride, however you did not feel special growing up, if anything you were just different. You could not even play with other children normally, you had to have special care taken, and others whispered of you.

You were now twenty years old, the wedding was supposed to be a couple of years ago, but was put off due to Sukuna being away during a war, battling and being gone for long. He was now back, and claiming what was his, though you had never even met him, you had heard the tales, the frightening ones of him, how he ransacked villages, ended lives.

Your village was protected and saved because of you, as if you’re a sacrificial lamb being led to the slaughter, a thing to be whispered of, because you alone possess energy, energy you truly have no clue of, but it makes you special. You now are standing in the most beautiful and elegant robes, everyone was speaking of your beauty, smiling at you, but you saw it, the fear in their eyes.

The tears in your mother’s eyes, and the sullen look on your father’s face, even your terrified little siblings, and you have to wonder, is he so terrible and cruel? And is your life over already? You take several breaths, clutching the flowers in your hand so tightly a thorn pricks your finger, crimson blood dripping down.

You peer at the finger, sighing now, inside the high castle walls of the king, contemplating how everything had happened so quickly. Even knowing your life belonged to him, you still lived relatively normal, until that royal emissary had come, and told you now was the time, the great honor bestowed upon you.

The way they speak of him… Would you even survive?

Your steps feel heavy as you walk through the halls of the palace, your heels clicking on stone floors, decked out in royal, beautiful robes, guards on the other side of you, for if you choose to run you will be captured. You knew that, and had no intention of running, for you want your family and the village to be safe, even if they seemingly threw you to the wolves.

Or, wolf that is.

Your heart beating a frantic rhythm in your chest, you try to stop your heavy breaths, to slow them, as the guards open the ornate doors, revealing the enormous room before you, where many have gathered to see. You look down at the floor beneath you, trembling at the thought, feeling his immense presence before you even look upon him.

It was as if the entire room trembled in fear from him, and you could feel it, his gaze upon you, as you continued to step slowly, one foot in front of the other, now the eyes of everyone in the room were on you. You feel the weight of this arranged marriage heavy on your shoulders, the fate of so many depend on it.

You finally get closer and look up slowly, studying his form in his white robes, thick and muscled and so tall, so big he towers over everyone. You trail your gaze up his broad chest, to his four broad arms, the veins wrapping around each forearm, huge hands on each one with long black nails, like daggers. You nearly trip then, and one of his large hands grasps your waist, taking it over like you’re nothing.

You’re shaking now, eyes darting up to his face, an arrogant smirk on it, and ruby red eyes staring down at you. Four of those eyes, assessing you in that gown, his long fingers curling at the nip of your waist, burning you through the robes. His presence is so intimidating and intense, but…

You’re not scared?

His hand feels so… you cannot describe it, the burn of his touch, the insane feelings you’re having all at once, like you can’t breathe. He’s so huge everyone has to crank their necks, you feel so small in his grasp, next to him, barely reaching his chest, which you see somewhat from the opening of his robes, the strong muscles and taut skin, before darting back to his face.

“Tch, clumsy girl.” He huffs, setting you in front of him now, and you curtsey low in your robes, eyes down.

“Forgive me, my King.” You murmur, trying to be obedient, it’s what you were taught, right? He scoffs, crossing one set of his arms, tilting his head at you, he has shockingly light pink hair, a color you’ve never seen, raising a dark arrogant brow, the candles are flickering and casting shadows in the grand hall, making him look even more intimidating.

“Hmm.” Is all he responds, taking your hand in one of his, it absolutely swallows yours, and you both turn to look at the orator, who now will start the ceremony, and you stand and bow your head, as he locks you both together.

You are now Ryomen Sukuna’s bride.

You look up as he is supposed to kiss you, it would be your first kiss, he leans so low, bending at the waist, and you prepare for it, shutting your eyes, how would it be, to kiss the King of Curses? However he merely brushes his lips against yours for a brief moment, before stepping away, and announcing you as his bride.

The anticipation kills you every moment, as you watch his concubines dance for him, but his ruby eyes keep flickering back to you, constantly, even as he drinks from his golden goblet, and even as several women run their hands on his chest. You think that’s for the best, perhaps he will have no interest in you, for you’re a simple village girl, many speak of your beauty, but you’re not worldly or experienced like them.

Perhaps he will not do more than what is necessary, and spare you from supposed cruelty. You’ve heard so many tales of what he has done, however you did not feel any cruelty when he held you, when he brushed his lips upon yours, but maybe you’re a bit naive, so sheltered to be the perfect wife for him.

You’re taken to your new chambers now, they are luxurious and beautiful, regal and fit for a Queen. You are a Queen, aren’t you now? It’s insane to take in, while your lady’s maid begins undressing you, you take in the surroundings, the red and gold ornate decorations, the low bed that has a canopy above it, draped with the same white and gold Sukuna himself wears.

Your peer in the looking glass, draped in a thin red yukata, with nothing underneath, your breasts are apparent, the opening exposing the valley between them, making your cheeks heat up. You feel the silk against your bare skin, floating across your body, knowing you’re naked under it makes you so nervous, as you know your duty will be to give the King his heirs.

You have very little knowledge, your mother had said to lay there and endure it, and that you would love your children, so that would get you through. The thoughts about that are purely horrific, you do not know anything aside from that, that he would lay on top of you and give you babies. You also know men seek pleasure elsewhere, not with their wives.

You don’t know what to think, but your heart falters when the door to your chamber opens, and Sukuna’s standing in your doorway, so massive he takes it over entirely. His eyes glint as he studies your body slowly, his sharp tongue darting to lick a lower lip, you fiddle nervously with your hands as he shuts the door behind him with a resounding click.

“My king, I hope I please you.” You say, dipping obediently, and he laughs then, the sound booming, a snarky look on his face.

“You’re trained to say everything right, perfect little thing huh?” He walks to you, one of his hands tilting up your chin, the sharp black nail pressing under it.

“I am meant to bear your children. It’s my duty.”

He scoffs now. “Your duty, hmm? Tell me, are you afraid of me little bunny?” You glare then, earning his chuckle.

“Little bunny!”

“A lamb for slaughter, surely, but also a little bunny frozen, afraid of the big bad wolf hmm?” His hands trail down the edges of your wrapped kimono, you struggle to keep any composure.

“You need not tease me, I know how it’s done.”

He’s grinning now with his sharp teeth, his two bottom eyes squinting to almost lines, the top two crinkling at the corners. “Oh, show me then, wife.”

You stomp over to the bed now as he laughs, taking several breaths and laying on your back, staring up at the canopy. Now he’s laughing louder, and you peer your head down. “What, you’re supposed to… give me babies.”

“Holy fuck this is rich.” He snorts now, walking to you, hovering over you.

“Well I know I… here.” You slip the knot of your robe off, baring your body then, and watch his breath catch, desire flaring in his eyes. “I’m supposed to be naked for you… do I displease?” You ask, as he backs away then.

“Displease… foolish brat.” He looks away for a moment, before exhaling and sitting you up on the bed instead, eyes drinking in every bit of your body slowly, tantalizingly, you’re breathing even faster, knees knocking from your nerves. “You’re terrified.”

“I am not! You may… do it.” You spread your thighs, eyes shut now, and he sighs, two of his hands slipping up your thighs now, the other two cupping your face, surprising you.

“You think it will be so terrible, your duty?” He speaks through gritted teeth, you keep your eyes shut, staying still.

“My mother said I shall endure it.” He sighs now, tracing your jaw, his huge hands surprisingly delicate, then you gasp as his other hands sliding up your thighs grow tongues. “Ah! What!?”

Your eyes lock onto his, and he’s so close you can inhale him, this musky heady scent that makes your tummy clench. “You think I, King of curses, don’t please those who enter my bed?”

“I… you mean all those girls?”

He tilts his head, the tongues lapping at your skin again. “I’m in here, aren’t I?”

“But you’ll find pleasure with them, I am only your duty.” You murmur, looking down, he hums to himself.

“Tch, you are… your body…” He trails off then, sighing. “I will not sleep with you tonight.”

“So I do displease!” You blink back tears.

“God you’re quite annoying. Just… shut up.” You glare now, and he grins. “I like that angry look, little bunny.”

“I am not a bunny! I… ah!” Sukuna’s hands are slipping up your thighs further, his other two sliding to your breasts, exhaling as he squishes them, black nails pressing into tender flesh, but it feels so good. You’re getting wet between your thighs, confusing and embarrassing you, making you pull away.

“Ah-ah, brat. Where do you think you’re going?” He’s moaning now, kneeling between your thighs, the King is kneeling before you!? It seems like insanity, his hot breaths now between your thighs, his eyes drinking you in. “Fuck, look at you.”

“Y-you said you will not lay with me tonight? Please don’t look at me there like that, I’m all…”

“Soaking wet.” He slides his long tongue against your soppy wet cunt now, licking a stripe up your slit as he moans. “Fuck you taste good.”

“What are you doing! I… ah… mmm!” Sukuna has two hands shoving your thighs wide, as you go to pull his head off you, the sensations of his wicked tongue are so overwhelming, only for him to moan when your fingers entangle in his pastel locks, two eyes glaring up as his tongue flicks on your clit, making you gush. “My king… I…”

“I want you to cum all over my face, be good for me bunny, would you? If you do a good enough job, I’ll reward you tomorrow.”

“A good job!? This is wicked… it feels… s’good- ah!” Your head is thrown back now, and you’re shoving his face against your cunt, you gasp then, realizing your folly. “I’m so sorry-”

“Shut your mouth, I only want to hear your cries.” His head dips back between your thighs, tongue lavishing your velvety walls, you’re gushing honeyed arousal all over his handsome face, yes he is handsome to you. You’re not afraid of him right now, especially as he’s touching you everywhere.

You’re crying out and shaking, thighs struggling to close, but he holds them firm, his other hands squishing your breasts again, tongues on his palms lapping at the sensitive peaks of your nipples. His tongue is fucking into you, one of his rough fingers rolling your clit now, making you go fuzzy, your walls are pulsing around his wet muscle, clit twitching under his fingertip.

You feel tension pooling in your tummy, feel yourself getting hotter, on edge, like something is ready to explode, overwhelming you, you’re sobbing almost, tears flowing but they’re from the insane pleasure. How his big hands grip you so tight you’ll bruise, how his tongue’s devouring you, you can hear yourself, how wet you are, mixing with your hoarse moans.

You never knew your duty would feel like this, you never knew you could crave a demon king’s touch, and you certainly never knew his tongue could bring you to the brink of ecstasy, or that he would want to give you pleasure. His eyes glint up at you, as he flicks his tongue faster, his hands pinching your nipples, the pleasure making your eyes roll back in your skull.

Your toes curl, draped over his broad shoulders, as he works you more and more, everything is heightened, you can barely see, hearing the squelching wetness, hearing him drinking you. “Ngh- my King-”

“Cum, let me feel you. Drink you.” He whispers, and you have no clue what he means, he sees it clearly. “Release, now. An order.” There’s the military leader, the demanding king, but it just makes you wetter for him, makes your hips arch up for more of his caresses.

You nod weakly and he groans, his tongue lapping you up, his hands massaging your breasts, making your back arch, so filled with pleasure, and for the first time in your life you feel desired, you feel alive. Your first orgasm rocks through your body, your cunt clenching around his tongue, your body shaking, your heart racing, your eyes blurry with the intensity. 

“Oh my god… oh my!” You’re soaking his face, taut nipples lavished by his tongues, and he’s smiling against your cunt, you feel his lips curve, tongue sliding out to flick up to your sensitive clit, watching you shake violently, walls fluttering around nothing as you breathe in heavy pants. “I… we… you…”

Sukuna pulls back then, smiling smugly up at you, licking his lips clean, your juices glistening on his tongue, even the strong jut of his chin is coated in you. “Good girl, now how is your duty going?”

“I… I cannot think.” You whisper, he leans up over you, his heavy, tattooed chest weighing on your soft breasts. Your hand touches his chest tentatively, feeling the burning hot skin, the strong muscles, his steady heart beat.

“You taste so sweet, little prey.” He kisses you then, not a kiss like the wedding, no it was brutal, taking you over, and you embarrassingly taste yourself, surprised at how the flavor is. His tongue darts in your mouth, his four hands gripping your waist and hips as he presses you into the bed, you gasp as you pull back. “Ah, those eyes, already drunk off me.”

You look at his lips, tracing them with your finger tips, his quiet moan does not escape you. “Do I do it back? The…”

He’s chuckling at you, making you angry again, a sarcastic look on his face, a brow raised. “What a slutty virgin, you wish to suck my cocks?”

You blink. “Cocks!? Two!?”

He’s laughing now, kissing down your jaw, moaning against your ear as you tremble under him. “You’re so tiny, it would be so easy to break you. So fun to break your pretty little head.”

That only serves to make you wetter, and he notices, moaning as you feel hardness between your thighs, under his robes. You tentatively raise your hips, earning his hiss, him pinning your hips down, thumbs pressing into your pelvis. He looks down at you with four dilated eyes, tongue licking his lower lip, one of his other hands brushing back your hair.

“Mmm, you will go to sleep, and tomorrow, I shall show you how much more there is to your duty than just bearing my children.” He says, you nod carefully as he stands up, leaving you on the bed, breathless, overwhelmed.

“And will you… lay with those concubines?”

He raises a brow, eyes trailing down your body. “Will that anger you, little bunny? Should I be afraid of your little paws?”

“It would upset me.” You say, pouting now, and he glares, clearly irritated. He then rolls his eyes with a sigh.

“Tch, already annoying me. Fine then.”

“Really?” You sit up, hopeful, suddenly craving more of him, your hands slipping up his strong biceps, you watch his eyes flutter shut for a moment.

“Yes, irritating creature. Now go to sleep.”

“Will you sleep with me?”

“Sleep in bed with you? No, I need to care for my precarious situation, caused by a bratty new bride.” You giggle and he glares, sobering you up. “You’re giggling at me, the king?”

“N-no. Sorry, my King. I shall see you in the morning.” You say softly now, he scoffs once more, eyeing your body lustfully as you slip back on your robe.

“Tsk.” Is all you get, as he leaves you alone in your chambers. You hesitantly touch yourself, seeing the sticky, glittering wetness still left, from your arousal and his tongue.

Lay there and endure? More like lay there and beg for more and more, blinding fucking pleasure from his tongues. Perhaps everything you think is completely wrong? What more is there to your duty, if you can call it that? You simply must know… and you’re very curious about his… cocks, fuck just the thought makes your pussy clench.

You’re snuggling up to a satin pillow in your new bed, lewd insane images flitting your mind, and for some reason you’re able to shut your eyes, and fall fast asleep, still feeling his touch on you.

Part Two

[andromeda-astrology]

Royal Highness ~ Female!Oc x Isman ( Song Of Crimson Nile )

Harmony walked close to the gates, her body was Itching to open the gates with her magic. But she couldn't, looking back at her friends.

The brown-skinned female smiled at her friends.

Eva's mouth was wide open, and Ramesses eyes were widened, Remmao was confused. While Dia was smiling, she was the only one showing emotions.

“ See I told you it was real” Harmony spoke out loud to the group. Her friends did not expect this. “ But here we go, let's go inside. And please be respectful and be courtesy when you bow”.

The group followed the soon-to-be queen. The moment she opened the door, it seemed a hundred guards came to their sides.

“ Halt! State your name and your business ”. One of the knights ordered.

“ And the others as well” the second knight demanded.

Harmony bit the inside of her mouth, she was always told to hold her tongue, but at the moment she wanted more than to let go.

“ Tell them it's their daughter” She growled.

The knights didn't budge, nor did they believe her.

Behind her, the group was skeptical. They felt like their friend lied about being a princess.

But it was the truth.

The '𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑙 ' truth.

One of the knights nodded slowly after a few moments and walked away. The other guard stayed put, just in case something happened.

~•~

A few minutes later there was the sound of footsteps, a second later the double doors opened, and in came two people. Queen and King Adel.

Queen Aurora walked close to the female that claim to be her daughter. She circled around the female, while the female's friends all bowed to the royals.

King Edmond stayed put, he was just observing all the information he was told. And the people in front of him. It was obvious there was a leader. But whom?.

“ You say you are my daughter yes? Then what's my daughter's name and date of birth?” Queen Aurora asked.

Harmony sighed. This was going to be a long day. She told the Queen about her birth name and other information. After telling her, Queen Aurora eyes widened, she stepped forward and placed her hand on the woman's cheek. “ Ana is it really you?” she asked.

Harmony bit her lip and looked back at her friends. “ Yes, mother. But Ana is my birth name. Harmony is the name I go by” she replied. Queen Aurora hummed and opened her arms to embrace her daughter. Harmony didn't like it, but she accepted it.

King Edmund walked forward to hug his daughter as well. “ My daughter, it has been such a long time since I've seen you. Welcome home, my dear”.

Harmony rolled her eyes, but thankfully no one had seen it. Then it was time for her friends to be greeted. They showed their respect and bowed.

“ Mother, Father. This is my friend's. We study together, and my mentor Remmao, he teaches us”. King Edmund greeted Remmao with a shake of his hand, Remmao was shocked but returned the his hands.

This was shocking and still new to him, but nevertheless, he still showed respect. He wasn't that evil. And besides, he could use the princess to get what he wanted. All he had to do was play his cards right.

But unknown to him, that will never happen.

~

To Be Continued.

[brittle-doughie]

omg can we have more of the fight dialogue thing please 🙏🏻🙏🏻

maybe w others cookie like eternal sugar or mystic flour or pv PLEASE

i love your writing sm

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Eternal Sugar Cookie: “Your happiness is important to me, my heavenly.”

You: “Running away from you would make me happy.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Mystic Flour Cookie: “You have returned to me…”

You: “Do you now see that there is meaning?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You: “The best thing to do would be to work together!”

Oyster Cookie: “Let us talk business when this is over.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Crimson Coral Cookie: “I will clear the way for you, land Cookie!”

You: “Aw, aren’t you going to save some for me?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Pure Vanilla Cookie: “Y/N Cookie! Are you hurt?!”

You: “I’m alright for the 8th time, Pure Vanilla!”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You: “We can get pudding after this.”

Pudding A La Mode: “I like having you around!”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You: “Isn’t protecting you Knight Cookie’s deal?”

Princess Cookie: “You can be my noble escort!”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Herb Cookie: “I’ll show you my garden, Y/N Cookie!”

You: “Which one? You have a lot…”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Royal Margarine Cookie: “Let me see how you move, my dear!”

You: “Stick around, I’ve got plenty of moves!”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Kumiho Cookie: “Have I stolen your heart now, cutie~?”

You: “Never again!”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

White Lily Cookie: “Please, Y/N Cookie. Don’t leave me alone…”

You: “You won’t have to be alone anymore…”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You: “You all don’t want to mess with her!”

Matcha Cookie: “I’ll make them pay for making fun of me!”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You: “I can’t decide…” (whether you should live or die /ref)

Dark Choco Cookie: “When the time comes, do the right thing…”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Raspberry Cookie: “I can teach you how to wield a sword like my family!”

You: “Is this an excuse to spar?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Pumpkin Pie Cookie: “Please be my friend. Forever, and ever…”

You: “I can be forever. Can you?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You: “I don’t have any regrets…”

Werewolf Cookie: “Thank you…for wanting to be my friend…”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Kouign-Amann Cookie: “Y/N Cookie, your paladin has arrived!”

You: “Go. Give me everything.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Sea Fairy Cookie: “You are always on my mind…”

You: “The ocean looks beautiful today…”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You: “The moon has never shined so brightly before…”

Moonlight Cookie: “Let me watch over you in your dreams…”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Crunchy Chip Cookie: “I think we can officially be comrades-in-arms now!”

You: “I won’t let you down!”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[22ayla21]

Family Meeting

The first meeting of the girlfriend with her boyfriend's royal family.

An unusual silence hung in the palace. It wasn't that boredom reigned; rather, everyone had frozen in anticipation of something rare, almost fairytale-like. Leona Kingscholar, the second prince, known for his love of lazy days, had finally decided to introduce his beloved to his family. A real introduction, without haste or false smiles. He had even arrived on time, which in itself seemed like a miracle.

The inner hall was bathed in the soft light of the setting sun filtering through the open windows. A warm desert breeze lazily swayed the thin curtains. The queen mother, the elder brother Farena, and his wife were seated on the sofas. They looked up as the doors opened.

Two figures stood in the doorway. Leona, dressed in a relaxed yet elegant outfit, casually had one hand in his pocket while his other arm confidently encircled his companion's waist. The girl looked flustered but carried herself with dignity, as if she understood: she wasn't just someone's fleeting fancy; she was his choice.

The queen mother smiled almost imperceptibly, a rare warmth flickering in her eyes. Farena, more open and emotional, immediately stood up and clapped his brother on the shoulder.

"Well, look at you!" he chuckled. "Not only did you get up before noon, but you also brought a lady friend. Who would have thought!"

"Anything can happen," Leona drawled lazily, as if it were a trivial matter.

The women immediately surrounded the guest, showering her with questions and compliments, offering gentle smiles and polite jokes. The queen mother, usually so stern, also engaged in lively conversation, attentively observing the one to whom her younger son had entrusted his heart.

Meanwhile, Farena drew his brother aside – not roughly, but rather in a friendly manner. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked at Leona with a narrowed gaze.

"So, how is it? Love until the grave or just a passing infatuation?"

"If it were 'just an infatuation,' I wouldn't have come," Leona scoffed, leaning against a column.

"And yet…" Farena began with that very intonation that older brothers love to use when teasing their younger siblings.

"What 'and yet'?"

"Admit it, you didn't expect things to get this serious yourself. You're our lone wolf, child of the desert. A reclusive lion, a rebel against palace rules."

Leona yawned demonstratively, then, with a crooked but satisfied smirk, he said:

"Apparently, I'm so irresistible that she moaned with delight last night. And you, brother, ever since you became king, at best you hear a quiet 'good morning' from your dear wife. Well, at least a son has appeared – some progress, I suppose."

Farena choked on the air, his face turning crimson.

"Go to the savanna, Leona!"

To which Leona, without flinching a single muscle, replied with a brazen grin, "Been there. And not alone."

Farena opened his mouth as if about to object, but then fell silent, raising his hands in surrender, and couldn't help but laugh.

"Alright, you win."

Both brothers turned around – the female part of the company had suddenly fallen silent, watching them with slight bewilderment.

"What were you two whispering about?" Leona's mother inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Politics," Farena blurted out too quickly.

"Geography," Leona added, stretching lazily. "Savannas, landscapes, sounds… acoustics…"

"Very informative," the queen nodded, although a suspicious glint flickered in her eyes.

Leona's girlfriend cast a telling glance at him. He merely shrugged in response, as if to say, "You knew what you were getting into." She sighed… but a faint smile played on her lips.

[heliosunny]

Hi, can i request for a Yan Mydei with a vampire readerr?? Like how you do with Phainon, but instead the reader is th one who willingly tried to drain all the blood from him not knowing his noble (?) identity

i hav an idea about him, a human, being half dead in near the vampire's house, so they took him in and tend his wounds only for him to find out that theyre keeping him as a food(?) but soon his men will lookout for him and rescue him only for him to come back to reader?? pleasee, i'm craving more mydei x reader from u

Yandere!Prince Mydei x Vampire!Reader

You hadn't fed in days. The moment the aroma reached you, you moved instinctively, the forest around your manor blurring as you followed the trail.

A man lay slumped against a mossy boulder, his cloak soaked crimson. A sword wound tore through his side, and arrows pierced his thigh and shoulder. Yet even on death’s edge, he clutched a bloodied dagger.

He didn’t even flinch when you knelt beside him.

“…Are you Death?”

You didn’t answer.

His blood smelled divine, so you brought him home.

You licked the blood from his skin to close his wounds, fed sparingly to preserve his strength. But you didn’t know who he was.

If you know anything about the royal family, you’ve heard of Prince Mydei—the second-born son, abandoned and cast aside by his own kin. His elder brother, consumed by envy, could not bear the way the nobles whispered of Mydei’s talents, his striking looks, or the loyalty he inspired. So, in the shadows, the crown prince sent assassins to silence him forever. And you—you wouldn’t be foolish enough to save him.

He survived.

Now, he’s recovering in your manor, watched over by you, his mysterious savior. You think he’s a lost traveler.

But every time you bring him food, every time you touch his skin to check his healing wounds, his eyes follow you with such intensity.

“You saved me... Why?”

“Didn’t want the blood to go to waste.” you said flatly. “You’re a walking feast.”

You started walking toward him, your steps silent on the wooden floor. “I figured I’d patch you up. Let you ripen a little.”

“…Meal?” His brows knit faintly.

You reached the edge of the bed and tilted your head.

His eyes widened. He tensed as your legs straddled his hips, your body sliding over his. “I’m a vampire” you whispered, your breath brushing his throat. “You didn’t figure it out from the whole ‘blood licking’ thing?”

“You—” His voice faltered as your fingers brushed back his hair.

“Don’t worry” you said, “I won’t take too much.”

Then your lips pressed to his neck, and your fangs sank in.

His body jolted beneath you, fingers clutching the sheets. A hundred years of hunger wouldn’t have prepared you for the taste of him.

He tried to speak—maybe to resist, maybe to beg—but his strength was fading fast.

Moments later, he slumped beneath you.

You pulled back, licking the blood from your lips. “Tch… You’re weak” you muttered, brushing his hair away from his dazed face. “That’s no fun.”

You slid off him and leaned back lazily against the pillows, watching his chest rise and fall.

When he woke up, the room was quiet.

He looked around—but you weren’t there.

Only a neatly folded note sat on the table nearby, beside a tray of food.

"Eat. Don’t bleed out again."

That was all.

The days passed in fragments.

You were never home when he awoke. Just more notes. More food. Sometimes an extra bandage, a cloth soaked in herbs. Sometimes silence.

By night, he’d wait for the sound of the door—only to find you passing through like a shadow. You’d glance at him, then head to another room as if he didn’t exist.

He started trying to stay awake longer. He sat on the bed, waiting. But every time, you’d return late, and sleep always claimed him before you came close.

And so, it continued.

Until one evening.

You opened the door to his room just before sunset. He was pretending to be asleep again.

But this time… you stayed to check.

He was healing well. The color had returned to his face.

You turned to leave, but his eyes fluttered open. He didn’t say anything—but there was something burning in them.

The next day, for once, you didn’t disappear.

You stood by the wall, arms folded, watching as he quietly ate the food you left him.

When he finished, he wiped his mouth slowly, then looked up.

“…You’re leaving again?”

“I have things to do.”

His fingers brushed your sleeve, “Wait.”

You stopped.

Glanced back over your shoulder.

“Don’t be too kind” you warned, stepping back toward him with a gleam in your eyes. “People might take advantage of that.”

But he didn’t move when you leaned in.

Didn’t flinch when your hand brushed his neck.

Didn’t even blink when you straddled him again, your fingers tilting his chin up.

“Like me.”

Your fangs sank in without hesitation.

He gasped, but… there was no struggle. His hands gripped your arms. He held you closer.

-----

You smelled the fever before you even stepped into his room. His blood was boiling in his veins, you cursed under your breath.

“That’s what happens when you feed a vampire and let them treat you like a wineskin.”

You soaked a cloth and pressed it to his forehead, fingers brushing his cheek.

“…You better not die on me now.”

Still, even in his fevered sleep, he leaned into your hand.

You left before sunrise, locking the door behind you.

He wouldn’t wake for hours anyway.

You needed medicine, food… and answers.

Because last night, in town, you overheard the whispers.

A prince gone missing. Not just any prince—the second one. The one the crown prince had always seen as a threat. Rumors swirled that it was a staged accident… or an ambush.

That night, under the veil of darkness, you paid the palace a visit.

Not through the front gate, of course.

The crown prince slept alone, golden rings on his fingers, a goblet still full on the bedside table.

He woke to the press of cold fingers on his throat.

And before he could scream—

Later, you pulled back with a disgusted snarl and spat into his sheets.

“Yuck.”

He was unconscious before he even realized what you were.

By the time you returned, it was nearly dawn again.

You opened the door silently, the faint light of your lantern casting golden warmth across the room. Mydei was still resting—sweating less, breathing evenly, his fever finally passed.

You sat beside him and rested the basket of supplies on the floor.

That prince’s blood left a foul taste in your mouth. You needed something real to wash it out.

You climbed back on top of Mydei, easing your weight onto him like you had before.

“…You came back…”

“Mm,” you hummed. “Had to rinse the taste of garbage from my mouth.”

He didn’t understand what that meant.

But he let you drink.

Even now, just barely recovered—he offered himself to you willingly.

And you took it.

--------

You swore humans were something else.

Even after all the times you'd sunk your fangs into him, draining his strength and leaving him dizzy with fever, he still flinched and blushed like some sheltered maiden every time you barged in.

Like this morning.

You pushed open the door without a word—just to check on him—and there he was, mid-change, shirt halfway over his head.

You stared.

He turned crimson.

You rolled your eyes.

“Relax,” you muttered. “Not like I haven’t seen more than that while drinking you dry.”

He didn’t respond. Just yanked his shirt down and sat at the edge of the bed, trying to hide the fact he couldn’t meet your eyes.

That should’ve made your appetite wane, but—if anything—it deepened the hunger.

You tilted your head, watching him. His heartbeat was steady again. But your instincts warned you: he was still recovering. Your “walking blood supply” wasn’t ready for another feast just yet.

Ugh.

But you couldn’t have him dropping dead. Not yet. Not when he’d just started tasting good again.

So you spent the afternoon rummaging through your old tomes—dusty, brittle, half-forgotten until now.

And finally, you found one.

A rare herb. Said to regenerate blood thrice as fast. Strengthen the body. Even make the blood sweeter over time.

Perfect

Without delay, you threw on your cloak and grabbed your satchel.

But just as you stepped toward the door, Mydei called out behind you, voice soft but urgent.

“You’re leaving?”

You paused.

“…Yeah.”

“Where to?”

“Somewhere far. I’ll be back.”

“Can I come?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

You smirked, tugging your cloak tighter. “You’ll slow me down. Besides, I’ve got others to feed on if needed.”

That shut him up.

As the door shut behind you, the air in the house turned heavy.

And Mydei sat back on the bed, “…Others, huh…”

He didn’t believe that. He couldn’t.

But still… Why did it hurt so much to hear?

The journey was brutal.

The herb grew deep within a cursed forest, guarded by illusions and creatures that hated anything living—or undead. You battled through fog that whispered in your ears, creatures that clawed at your cloak, mud that swallowed your boots, and shadows that tried to rip your senses apart.

But you made it.

You clutched the herb in your hand like a trophy.

It was worth it.

You knew what this herb meant: he would recover faster, grow stronger, become yours for longer. And maybe, just maybe… you wouldn’t have to hold back next time you fed.

The thought made your blood stir.

The second you stepped inside your house, the door slammed behind you with a loud click.

Mydei stood there.

You noticed the fine magic thread strung across the floor. The faint shimmer of runes etched on the walls. The scent of crushed herbs—some of yours—burned into a faint ward.

Your brows rose.

“…You little snake.”

“You were gone for three days”

You raised the herb lazily. “Brought you a gift, didn’t I?”

He didn’t even glance at it.

“You lied,” he muttered, “You said you had others to feed on.”

“Jealous, are we?”

“I’m not,” he said. “I just thought I owed you a proper welcome.”

Your grin grew sharp.

“Well,” you said, shrugging off your cloak. “You’ve got my attention now.”

You took a single step forward—

And the trap flared beneath your feet.

Your knees buckled slightly as the energy locked your limbs.

“Sit”

You had to obey.

He stood tall in front of you, finally holding the upper hand—or so he thought.

“I’ll give you what you want” Mydei said, “My blood. But from now on, only under my conditions.”

You watched him. His pride warring with the way his pulse sped up just standing this close to you. You could smell the heat in his blood.

It made your mouth water.

“And what conditions,” you drawled, “does my little hostage offer?”

“No biting unless I allow it,” he said firmly. “No sneaking into my room.”

You snorted. “You think you get to own me now?”

He stepped closer. “I want to. If you’ll let me.”

So you waited until he was close enough.

You leaned in.

He thought you were accepting his terms.

You smirked faintly, the crushed herb still between your cheek and tongue. You whispered against his lips:

“Too slow.”

And kissed him. He gasped.

And you took that moment to shove the bitter herb down his throat with your tongue.

His eyes widened as he instinctively swallowed, choking slightly at the sharp, earthy taste.

You grabbed his wrist and yanked his arm upward—mouth pressing into the soft skin just above his inner elbow. The vein there thrummed like music beneath your lips.

You bit.

Harder than usual.

“You—cheated—” he managed to whisper.

You sucked deep, your hand gripping his waist to keep him from falling.

Then finally, when his legs wobbled and his breathing hitched—you pulled away.

“You’ll thank me,” you said coolly. “That herb’s going to make you stronger than ever. You’ll be able to handle so much more of me.”

“...You're insane” he whispered, half in awe, half in breathless disbelief.

You smiled.

“Maybe.”

Then you pushed him onto the floor.

“I hope you recover fast. Because next time, I’m not going to stop until I’ve had all of you.”

----

You expected that herb to make him recover quicker—he should’ve been bouncing back, your little blood bag practically glowing with vitality by now.

But the bite on his arm was still healing.

The skin was bruised. No signs of the usual quick regeneration. It had been days.

You squinted at it when he wasn’t looking.

Something wasn’t adding up.

“…Can you reach the top shelf?” you asked lazily.

Mydei, ever eager to be helpful, nodded and moved to stand on his toes—stretching upward, fingers brushing the jars of dried herbs.

His back was to you.

A perfect moment.

Quietly, you slipped behind him, eyes locking on the side of his neck.

No.

Too obvious.

Your gaze dropped lower—to the soft skin between his shoulder blades. Covered just barely by the loose hem of his shirt. An untouched spot.

Your lips parted.

And you bit.

“Ah—!” he jolted, hands smacking into the shelf as jars clinked loudly. “W-What the hell?!”

You hummed around the flesh, holding him in place with your grip on his hips. It was a small bite, shallow. You drank just a little. Enough to taste the faint herbal sweetness still lingering in his blood.

“Y-You can’t just bite me out of nowhere—!”

“Shh”. You pressed two fingers to the bite, watching intently.

The skin was already sealing.

Interesting.

“So it’s not the herb…”

“H-Huh?”

You leaned back against the wall, licking your thumb as your mind turned.

“It’s the spot,” you said aloud, more to yourself than to him. “Or maybe the duration.”

He blinked at you, shirt half-fallen down his shoulder, flustered and confused. “What are you—?”

“The longer I suck from the same place…” You stepped forward again, “The more damage it takes. The slower it heals.”

He backed up against the shelf.

“That’s why your arm still looks like a bruised peach.”

“You could’ve just asked me to—”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you murmured, dragging your finger across the newly bitten spot. “But this… this opens up options.”

You leaned closer, lips brushing his ear.

“I’ll just have to find fresh spots each time.”

-----

It wasn’t just you who changed.

At first, Mydei had flinched. Shied away. Hid the marks under layers of cloth and half-hearted glares.

But lately…

You noticed the shift.

He no longer yelped when you leaned in. He stopped trying to cover the bites. And sometimes—just sometimes—when your teeth sank into his skin, he’d lean in ever so slightly.

He wanted more of that.

So when you were away one night, he found the old alchemy book tucked behind your things. Inside were potions, ingredients, little scrawled notes in the margins.

And one page caught his eye.

Bloodlust Enhancer.

A simple potion. Nothing too suspicious—just enough to heighten a vampire’s thirst.

He read it again.

And again.

You’d scribbled “dangerous if used frequently” beside it.

He smiled.

And started brewing.

The next evening, you returned to your cozy hideaway.

He greeted you with a smile, already in the kitchen. “You look like hell” he said gently, offering you a mug of warm tea.

You took it with a scoff. “I am hell.”

You sipped.

Bitter.

Spiced.

Sweet.

Your brows twitched, but you brushed it off. A taste like honey and heat hit your tongue, warming your throat as it slid down.

He watched you closely.

And, deliberately, he adjusted his shirt.

It slid lower across his collarbone.

And when he reached for a book, the hem of it rose, revealing the pale skin of his side.

You didn’t even notice you’d stepped closer.

Didn’t realize how badly your body wanted it until your fingers curled in his shirt and you pressed your lips to his skin, just above his ribs.

He gasped, already bracing for the bite.

You didn’t even warn him.

Your eyes rolled shut as a growl built in your throat.

His knees buckled.

He gripped the shelf behind him. His own breath stuttered from the pleasure of it.

He trembled beneath you, fingers twitching against your back.

“…What the hell was that?” You said after regaining your consciousness.

You didn’t see the empty vial hidden beneath the shelf behind him.

-----

It happened one night, after a particularly long feed.

“Make me a vampire.”

You blinked at him, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. “What?”

“I want to be like you.”

You sat back, raising an eyebrow. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard all week.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re delirious.” You stood, brushing your hair out of your face. “You wouldn’t survive the transition. And even if you did, I’m not interested in making a mini-me.”

He sat up, “Then what am I to you?”

You glanced back at him with a flat stare. “My walking blood supply. You’re cute when you blush, and I like the taste of your blood. That’s all.”

You didn’t stay to see how his expression cracked.

He waited until you left again. For herbs, or ingredients—some errand that gave him just enough time to sneak away.

He didn’t take much. Just his coat and a hidden pendant he’d stuffed away in a drawer weeks ago.

It didn’t take long to find his men. They were still searching the outskirts.

“Your Highness!” one of them gasped, “You’re alive—! The crown prince said—”

“Don’t mention him” Mydei said coolly. “I have no intention of returning to that snake’s court.”

“But—”

“I found someone.” He looked off into the woods, where the path to your hideout lay shrouded in shadows. “Someone I’m staying for.”

The guards exchanged uneasy glances.

“I need you to… hurt them.”

“Not kill, of course. And they’ll come to me.”

Silence followed.

------

The world spun.

Branches clawed at your clothes as you stumbled through the forest, your vision blurring.

Blood seeped down your side.

They came out of nowhere. You didn’t have the strength to fight all of them, not in your current state. You barely escaped with your life.

By the time you reached your door, your knees buckled. You nearly collapsed against the frame—but you dragged yourself inside.

“Mydei—”

He was already running out from the back room.

You didn’t even speak.

You just grabbed him.

Pushed him back, pinning him to the nearest surface. Your hands shook as you shoved his shirt up.

And your fangs sank into the skin just above his hip.

Your nails dug into his sides as your lips sealed over the bite, drawing blood like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

And he felt it.

Something was different this time.

Your fangs hit deeper, and something in him responded.

By the time you finally pulled away, he was pale and shaking, his hands gripping onto your shoulders to stay upright.

“You…” you panted, still leaning into him. “Your blood… feels different.”

“So do you.”

You stared at each other for a moment.

----

You were resting for once—deep in sleep, finally letting your body heal.

Mydei sat nearby, a book open on his lap though his eyes never moved along the lines. His senses were buzzing.

Every crackle of the fire. Every heartbeat from the forest outside.

He could still feel the echo of your fangs in his body, the lingering euphoria bleeding into something else.

He heard it then.

Crunch.

A twig snapped outside.

His head snapped up.

Footsteps—three, maybe four.

He was on his feet before he realized it.

The knock came a second later.

“Your highness?” a voice called. “We heard word from the village—someone saw you. We’re here to bring you back.”

They were here to take him.

He opened the door slowly. The men looked relieved at first, two stepping forward.

“Your highness, we feared the worst—”

He grabbed the first one by the throat.

The second man barely had time to draw his blade before Mydei was on him, sucked his blood dry.

Their blood filled his mouth— but it tastes like nothing.

The third man turned to run. Mydei caught him before he made it ten feet from the door.

It was over within minutes.

He stood alone outside your home, blood staining his hands, the corpses of loyal men crumpled around him.

He wiped the corner of his lips with the back of his hand, and when he stepped back inside, closing the door quietly, he looked toward your sleeping form.

No one could ever take him from you—not when he’d rather die than leave your side.

[the-artist-grimm]

Finally got to doodling Anthea in this dress hehehe, plus the family's reaction. Maybe they're at like an event or something idk. Like Midas decided to hold a fancy ball in his cavern for the various factions so the Red Crown 'royal' family had to come to represent theirs. And maybe fight a little once Midas tried robbing everyone blind...

Regardless Anthea gets to show up in probably the fanciest dress he's ever worn, the twins get to be little princes for the night, and Narinder blue-screens over how pretty his spouse is.

(also Crimson Angel Baal now officially prefers dresses for more formal stuff-flowey skirts are fun and he looks cute in them. :D )

Also bonus alt colors for the twins, wasn't sure if I wanted them all to match but I kinda like the twins red/black/white and their parents 'gold' combo a little better for the contrast.

[trashy-corvian]

Asmodeus here putting Lust in Bloodlust~

More Hades AU

Mephistopheles \ Simeon \ Luke \ Leviathan \ Mammon \ Satan \ Beelzebub \ Belphegor

gameplay headcanons under the cut

Poison all the way, baby! Drug—I mean, charming enemies left and right. And if you put enough poison in them, they will explode in a beautiful, gory mess!

Asmodeus's Call: Turn the battlefield poisonous, dealing high overtime damage with a chance to charm enemies.

Legendary Boon "Parasocial Allure"—Charmed enemies deal more damage and stay charmed longer.

Upon Greater Call

"How precious."

"Oh, I'm good."

laughs

"Naughty, naughty... "

"My turn, hon."

"You need a good lashing!"

Unique Greater Call

(Lucifer)

"Some family we are..."

"Even now you look good!"

"I want those raven wings crimson from your blood~"

"Oh, when I'll crawl inside you..."

(Barbatos)

"I had dreams just like this."

"A perfect threesome~"

"Your skin on my chairs, dear!"

"Sloppy seconds is all you'll ever get!"

(Diavolo)

"I'll give you royal treatment, hon~"

"One step too far!"

-moaning-

"Oh YES."

"Take a hint already!"

[aeralux]

"Shadow of Your Past" - Aegon Targaryen

Summary: Long ago, your heart belonged to your past betrothed, Cregan Stark. Those times are long gone, as you now reside in King's Landing with your newborn babe and doting husband, Aegon. However seeing your wolf after all these years makes feelings come up in unexpected ways, making Aegon question your love for him.

Warnings: slight angst; Cregan is the other man (I'm so sorry, Cregan girlies); slight love triangle; jealous and sad Aegon; happy ending; he took you from your home tho; Helaena is dead (gets mentioned once); slight Cregan x Reader

Words: 2.9k

Notes: This was based on an anonymous ask. I changed it a tad bit but kept the original idea. First time ever written something adjacent to angst or fluff.

In the frigid lands of Winterfell, your destiny had long been sealed - to become a Lady of the North, wed to a formidable Lord from the North. Raised within Winterfell, you had been groomed from birth for this inevitable union. This future seemed as immutable as the unyielding winters that gripped the region.

Yet fate, it seemed, had other plans. When Cregan's beloved wife tragically passed, leaving him a widower with their young son Rickon, you found yourself pulled into their lives like the warm embrace of a dwelling fire. A fast friendship blossomed between yourself and Cregan, gradually kindled into the smouldering embers of new love. The whole of Winterfell looked on fondly as the once-bereaved Cregan's heart defrosted in the radiant presence of his new intended bride.

However, the fragile promise of this love was soon overshadowed by the towering curiosity of King Aegon II Targaryen. Whispers of the Northern beauty's unparalleled loveliness and grace had spread like wildfire through the realm. Bewitched by the tales, Aegon stated that this virtuous woman would be his, consequences be damned.

With a heavy heart, you bid farewell to the only home you had ever known and the love you had so fleetingly tasted, bound for the regal prisons of the Red Keep.

Within the crimson towers of King's Landing, a surprise awaited - Aegon's children were nothing like the spoiled, bratty offspring you had envisioned. Instead, they were kind, generous souls, undoubtedly a legacy of their late, beloved mother Helaena. Though resigned to your fate as a mere royal broodmare, you found yourself powerless against the innocent charms of the young princes and princesses, who swiftly embraced you as their "mummy."

Unprepared for the tenderness that blossomed between this makeshift family, King Aegon too found his calloused heart unexpectedly stirred. What had begun as a selfish pursuit of beauty transformed into a spirited courtship of genuine affection. Though still haunted by the ghost of your lost love in the North, over time you developed strong feelings for Aegon, especially after welcoming your first son, Prince Rhaevar. As you embraced your role as mother to Aegon's children and grew into your position as Queen of Westeros, you could not deny the sincerity of Aegon's keenness.

To commemorate the beginning of this new chapter in your life, Aegon declared that a grand tournament would be held in your honour on your name day. The air was thick with excitement, and the vibrant colours of the banners fluttered against a clear blue sky. Laughter and music filled the atmosphere as noblemen and commoners gathered to celebrate.

Yet, even amidst the revelry, shadows of the past loomed large. Your heart quickened as you caught sight of him—Cregan Stark, surrounded by his loyal men, his presence commanding and undeniable. The moment your eyes met, time seemed to stand still. Memories of stolen glances and whispered promises flooded your mind, overwhelming you with emotions long since buried.

In a surge of reckless abandon, you broke through the crowd, propelled by an all-consuming longing. The world around you faded away as you ran into his arms, feeling the warmth of his embrace envelop you like a familiar, cherished blanket. His scent—the wild, crisp scent of the North—stirred something profound within you.

As he pulled you closer, old feelings resurfaced with a ferocity that took your breath away. The way he held you felt both achingly familiar and electrifyingly new. You could hear your heart thundering in your chest, drowning out the sounds of the festival, as you melted into the safety of his arms. In that moment, surrounded by laughter and celebration, it felt as if you had returned to a lost piece of yourself, igniting a fire that you thought had long cooled.

"Cregan," you whispered into the thick furs of his coat, your breath mingling with the cold air that surrounded you. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this moment. Looking up at him, your heart raced as you were met with those familiar, loving grey eyes. The same eyes that had haunted your dreams for years apart.

He seemed taken aback by your sudden rush towards him, a mixture of surprise and warmth flooding his expression. You could see the shadows of longing and concern etched on his face as he stepped back slightly as if he were afraid that if he embraced you too tightly, he would shatter the fragile connection that still tethered your hearts together.

"I missed you," Cregan managed to say, his voice barely more than a whisper. A soft smile crept onto his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that made your heart flutter. "You've changed," he continued, his gaze roaming over you with awe and affection. "You've become a woman."

A blush crept to your cheeks as you recalled the innocence of your past, the days spent dreaming of knightly heroes and fairy-tale endings. "And you," you replied, tinged with affection and sadness, "you've become even more captivating."

His eyes darkened for a moment, and the smile faltered. “Yet here we are, in a world that insists we belong to different stories,” he said, his voice heavy with unvoiced thoughts. “I should never have allowed myself to come here."

You stepped closer, drawn to him irresistibly, the warmth radiating from his body beckoning you like a moth to flame. “You really think so?” Your voice firm yet laced with sorrow.

Cregan shook his head slowly, the weight of reality settling between you like a thick fog. “You know I don't. But we are not in the North anymore.” His voice was a gentle storm, swirling with complex emotions. “You have a life, a kingdom. And I… I am but a shadow of your past.”

Tears welled in your eyes at the bittersweet truth of his words. “A shadow who holds my heart,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of longing. “I thought of you every day, every night.”

He looked down, his fingers running through the thick fur of his coat as if seeking comfort. “Then let me be the one to give you the freedom you deserve. I won’t hold you back. I won't hold you back from loving your husband, your kids.”

You reached out, your hand brushing against his, a soft spark igniting between your fingertips. “But it is you I dreamed of for so long,” you insisted fiercely, pressing your body against his. “You are the one I dreamed of, Cregan. You are my heartbeat.”

His head snapped up, catching your gaze with an intensity that made the air crackle around you. “And yet, we are bound by what we cannot change. If only the fates were kinder…”

You both stood there, worlds apart yet painfully close, the silence wrapping around you like a delicate embrace. Finally, Cregan stepped back, his heart heavy but resolute. “Go back to your life, my queen. But remember this moment. Remember us… even if we cannot be together.”

With that, he turned away, every step echoing with unfulfilled promises and lingering affection, leaving you standing in the cold, the weight of your love a bittersweet reminder that some stories, despite their depth, are never meant to unfold.

It felt like a shard of glass had been driven into your heart for the second time, twisting painfully with every thought of Cregan. The memories flooded back, uninvited and relentless, like a storm you couldn’t escape. You stood there, grappling with the truth he had laid bare before you. It wasn’t just about nostalgia; it was the realization that he was right. You had built a new life, filled with the laughter of children and the warmth of a husband who loved you deeply. Yet, no matter how hard you tried to bury those feelings, your first love left a mark that time could not erase.

You remembered the way Cregan had looked at you, that spark in his eyes igniting something profound within you — a connection that felt electric and raw. The ache of what once was gnawed at your insides, threatening to unravel the carefully woven fabric of your current life. You wanted to forget, to silence the inner turmoil that his memory stirred, but how could you, when a piece of your heart belonged forever to him? The struggle was suffocating, a cruel reminder that some loves cling to your soul no matter how far you run.

The icy reality of Aegon's presence loomed heavily over King's Landing as he stood on the balcony, his piercing gaze fixed upon the tournament and the people. The vibrant colours of the celebration below only intensified his resentful fury, each laugh and cheer from the crowd grating against his simmering emotions. How dare that barbarian come so close to his sweet wife, daring to touch her with such intimacy? The very thought ignited a wildfire of jealousy that blazed in his chest.

He knew he had snatched you away from Cregan, that steadfast Stark who had cherished you. But Aegon was the King, a crown heavy with authority resting upon his brow. He convinced himself that he could do as he pleased, but the sight of you laughing, your eyes sparkling with delight as you spoke to another man, felt like salt in an open wound.

Aegon raised the ornate golden goblet to his lips, the richness of the deep crimson wine swirling within—a stark contrast to the bitterness seeping into his soul. The velvety liquid flowed smoothly down his throat, but it did little to quell the storm raging inside him. Rage coursed through his veins like a volatile poison, making him feel as if his heart might burst against the confines of his chest.

From the intensity of his stare, one could almost feel the air crackle with tension; any Stark worth their salt should have sensed it, and should have begun preparing for the inevitable conflict that was brewing. He envisioned himself unleashing the full fury of his wrath, flames licking at every corner of the city, consuming anything and anyone that dared to come between him and his queen. The jealousy, sharp and relentless, gnawed at him, and with each passing moment, it became more apparent that he would not let this slight stand unchallenged.

Aegon stalked across the polished wooden floor, his long strides echoing in the grand hall as he approached your still figure in the stands. The sound of his boots clinking sharply against the wood pierced the air, drawing attention from those nearby. You turned around swiftly, the remnants of tears shimmering in your eyes like morning dew. With a quick motion, you wiped your cheeks, summoning every ounce of strength to mask your vulnerability. A shaky smile broke through, holding onto the semblance of normalcy.

“Aegon, my love,” you called softly, your voice barely above a whisper, quivering with emotion.

His eyes narrowed, a storm brewing beneath the surface. “Do not play games with me,” he snarled, the low growl of his voice sending a chill down your spine. “What did he say to you? I demand to know, right this instant!” The intensity of his accusation was palpable, rage and jealousy intertwining as he loomed closer.

You took a small step back, startled by the ferocity of his words. “It was nothing, truly. He only greeted me, husband,” you stammered, your heart racing as his gaze bore into you, searching for the truth amidst the tension of the crowd’s watchful eyes.

“Nothing?” Aegon scoffed, throwing his arms wide in a dramatic display of disbelief. “You think I would believe such an absurd claim? What man merely greets a lady of the court without ulterior motives? You know better!” His voice was a fervent mix of jealousy and protectiveness, each syllable dripping with accusation.

“I assure you, Aegon, it was merely a courteous exchange,” you replied, striving for calm amidst the chaos swirling within. “You know how these formalities are.”

“Formalities?” he echoed, his tone laced with sarcasm. “You may call it that, but I see a man with intentions far from noble. Do not underestimate my concern for you, for your well-being—my beloved wife.”

You watched as the tension washed over him, the play of emotions battling within those stormy eyes. “Please, my king, I ask you to trust me,” you implored, reaching out to touch his arm gently, hoping to quell the tempest within him. “There is nothing more between us than mere civility.”

His gaze softened slightly at your touch, but the underlying fury simmered beneath the surface. “Civility, they call it, yet it feels like a betrayal,” he murmured, clenching his jaw. “I would not let any man tarnish what belongs to me.”

“Aegon,” you said, your voice steadier now, “I belong to you, and only you. Let us not allow jealousy to poison what we hold sacred.”

The tension hung thick in the air, a palpable force that seemed to wrap around you both, suffocating yet electric with unspoken words. Aegon stood before you, his posture rigid, an imposing figure clad in regal attire that glinted with the weight of his title. His expression morphed swiftly from blazing rage to sharp realization, as if the realization itself cut deeper than any dagger.

"You still harbour feelings for him, don't you?" His voice was cold, each word deliberate, imbued with a bitterness that struck at your very core. His eyes, usually filled with warmth, now gleamed with a piercing scrutiny that threatened to unravel the very fabric of your devotion.

Your heart raced, a wild drumbeat of panic and despair. "No! No, of course not!" You exclaimed, an edge of desperation creeping into your tone. "I only love you and our children. You must believe me!" The plea dripped from your lips, each word a frantic attempt to bridge the chasm of doubt that had formed between you. You nearly sank to your knees, the guilt eating you alive.

Aegon’s lips curled into a cruel smirk, a devilish glint in his sapphire eyes. "Do you even love me? Or has this all been a grand farce?" His voice, while playful in tone, carried an undercurrent of pain that clutched at your heart with icy fingers. The regal confidence he usually commanded wavered, revealing the vulnerability that lay beneath the surface.

Tears, unbidden and unwelcome, began to stream down your cheeks, trailing down to your chin. You could feel the weight of your emotions, raw and unfiltered. "Of course, I love you, Aegon!" you cried, your voice cracking under the strain of your sincerity. "You must know that. Every part of my soul is bound to you!" The desperation washed over you, carrying with it the echoes of your commitment, louder than any accusation.

Aegon’s gaze softened for a fleeting moment, the familiar warmth flickering beneath the icy facade, before insecurity took hold once more. “Then why does he haunt the corners of your heart?” he challenged, crossing his arms, the royal crown upon his brow seeming heavier than ever.

You took a shaky breath, the air thick with tension and longing. "He is a shadow from the past. But you, Aegon," you implored, your eyes locking onto his, "you are my present and my future. Please, don’t let envy poison what we have built together. Can you not see how much I need you?" The words tumbled out, a cascade of heartache and fervour, hoping to illuminate the depths of your true feelings.

Aegon’s expression faltered for a brief heartbeat, the storm in his eyes giving way to a vulnerability that he rarely let show. “You swear it?” he whispered, his voice softer now, laced with hope and disbelief.

“I swear it,” you replied fervently, your heart laid bare before him, an offering of unwavering love despite the tempest that had arisen between you. “You are my king, my love, and the father of my children. I would never betray you.”

At that moment, the air shimmered with unspoken oaths, and you both stood on the ridge, caught between jealousy and the desperate hope for reprieve.

Aegon's face softened, the storm in his eyes receding like clouds parting after a storm. He reached out, his fingers gently brushing away the tears that stained your cheeks. The tenderness of his touch sent a shiver through you, a reminder of the love that had grown between you over the years.

"My queen," he murmured, his voice a low, comforting rumble. "Forgive me. I should believe you over anyone." He pulled you close, enveloping you in his strong arms. The familiar scent of him - smoke and spice - filled your senses, grounding you in the present.

You melted into his embrace, feeling the rapid beating of his heart against your cheek. "There's nothing to forgive," you whispered, your fingers curling into the rich fabric of his tunic. "We've weathered storms before."

"But I cannot bear the thought of losing you. Not to him, not to anyone," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Gently, you placed your hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palm. "You won't lose me, Aegon. I am yours, now and always."

His eyes closed at your touch, leaning into your hand as if it were a lifeline. When he opened them again, they shimmered with unshed tears. "I love you," he breathed, the words carrying the weight.

[theroyalthrones]

Behind the Scenes | Various Locations | Rosiers, Toulon, Orillia

beginning | previous | next

script below↓↓

The leaves are falling as Francesca walks. The air is crisp in a way that Francesca had never been used to. Having grown up in the more so humid and warm weather of Castellon. Her little sister is chirping at her on the phone. She will miss these times, Just as she misses the times before the present.

Leandra] Yeah, and my friend’s having a birthday party this weekend. I wanted to go but I don’t no if Papa will let me.

F] chuckles Don’t worry Lea, I’lll convince him.

L] I don’t think you can, he’s already asleep. He’s been sleepy a lot!

F] I’ve got my ways…

As she walks, she can feel people staring at her. They are afar, but they are whispering. As she walks up toward the steps of the building, someone bumps into her. Her things clatter to the ground, but the assailant does not help her pick things up.

Person] watch were you’re going, you gold digging leech.

She feels her cheeks burning, but does nothing instead of walking forward toward her counselors office.

C] Ms. Ortega, there really isn’t anything to complain about. You are on track with a high gpa, and a possibility of early graduation if you keep up the good work.

F]Thank you mr.-

C] but your grades currently… I notice a slip since the semester began.

C] Whoever you might be associating yourself with, might not be in your best interests academically. People like you need to work harder. If things keep going in this direction, Post Graduate options might dwindle.

F] Y-Yes I understand.

C] I hope you do.

The sky is dark, it’s been raining all evening. Lucian and Francesca have been sitting in the library, studying for exams. it’s Finals week, of their sophomore year in school. They’re sectioned off a corner of the busy library. They’ve been there since the morning, and the cluttered desk makes that evident.

Francesca phone rings, it echos in the quiet space. She picks it up and whispers.

F] Lea, I can’t-

L] crying Cesca, it’s dad.

She barely registers the words, she’s up before she can even think. Lucian looks up at her puzzled. She’s hyperventilating, she’s crying.

L] Francesca, what?-

F] My dad- cries harder I-

L] Can you walk?

He carts her over to the door.

L] you need to be there.

F] mmhmm she barely makes out

he cups her face in his hand. he forces her to look at him, to focus on what he’s going to say.

L] Listen, Everything’s going to be ok- you’ll be ok. I’m going to make sure of that, ok Francesca?

F]cries harder

They are now at the airport. They rush in to the check-in area. Things are chaotic in the airport like they always are. Lucian pulls her hand, and spins her around to face him.

14-16

L] Are you sure I can’t come?

F] Yes, Stay. It’s finals, you must take them.

L] But yours-

F] I’ll figure it out, Luc.

L]… I love you, Cesca.

They kiss, and he watches her go. It’s 2093, and little does he know that this will be the last time he sees her in person since that fateful day in the news room, 6 years from then (2099).

Weeks pass as she is in Castellon.

She waits for hours in hospitals that feel like asylums. She is anxious always, she feels the clock ticking. This is a waiting game, her father, in a condition neither thought would be possible.

She is with her sister at times too. Eating dinners in hospital cafeterias after picking her up from school. This is just as hard for Leandra as it is for Cesca. Leandra being the one to find him collapsed.

She has also been feeling increasing sick. She looks and feels terrible in fact. She is fighting symptoms of pregnancy, but of course she does not know that yet. She is also throwing up, and showing signs of pregnancy(and in the details of the post. Show bottles of medicines and stiff)

The doctors come in to announce what had already been in the back of her mind for days now.

D] It’s lung Cancer.

F] shocked gasp C-Cancer?

D] He’s in the fourth stage, Ms. Ortega. It’d be best to get his affairs in order, as he might…

The sentence blurrs out because, No, she isn’t listening. An overwhelming piercing sound overwhelms her. She is in shock, the last parent she has in the world is dying. And it’s too late to save him. In the room full of doctors, Francesca Ortega Collapses.

She wakes up, she herself is in a hospital bed of her own. A nurse who happens to be in the room, rushes to her side. She tries to speak.

F]Wh- What am I?

N] There’s no need to worry. You collapsed due to dehydration and fatigue. Ms. Ortega, were you aware of the pregnancy?

F] Pregn-?

N] Pregnancy—Yes, you are going to have a child, Ms. Ortega.

This shocks Francesca of course, on top of everything, she is also pregnant. Of course things start clicking into place.

“I’m pregnant” she thinks.

Of course, she has been feeling nasceous, sick, fatigued,etc. all of the normal ailments that something like this could cause. She thought it was because of the stress of her father. Of course she understands now, And this understand makes her panic. How is her life going to be even more fucked up than it already has become? How will she go to graduate school with a mortage to pay for? How will she become what she wants with two children to raise(her little sister)? Her life is forever messed up, and how could she wreck his?

She decides she wont, she won’t say a thing. A few months later she begins to show, she’s on the phone with Lucian, who is none the wiser. (in the shot, show her with a close up on the phone, and then a wide show with her huge belly)

L] Nick is on my ass about trying out for the team next year. I don’t think I will.

F]…

L] My parents are forcing me to figure out my degree. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it, It’s just that…

(fade off, next slide is the next part)

F] Are you excited for the semester?

L] I can’t be, not if you’re not there.

F] she laughs I can’t promise you that.

L] Are you alright, Cesca?

F] couldn’t be better. fake gleefulness

Standing in the hall of the hospital (another day). A Leandra rushed up to her, saying her father is awake.

She runs to his room, Leandra snuggles up to him. he’s laying in the bed, he’s laying with his eyes open, but he can’t speak. He doesn’t move as she gets close to him, and Cesca knows. She walks up to the bed, and lays her head on his chest. She cries.

F] crying Papa

P] Oh, La luz de mis ojos [The light of my eyes]

F] crying somore

P] I’m sorry for all the trouble i’ve caused, You’ll see. This will be behind all of us.

The scene changes, it’s nighttime. Leandra is sleeping in the bed with her father still. Francesca is sitting in a chair close to the bed. She is also dozing but is quickly awaken by the sound of a loud, singular screech. It’s the heart monitor, he’s dying.

beepppppp

F]waking up Papa?

Nurses rush into the room, it’s chaos after that. Cesca scoops her sister into her arms, as the nurses rush around (***use the motion filter on ps). ****The girls stand apart from the chaos. Francesca is shaking, she is scared. Her world has forever changed.

Fully pregnant now, in her second trimester, the girls are in a small church, they are alone in the pews. The only sign of a funeral is the large wreaths and image of their father smiling happily. And the Casket at the front. She is staring blankly, nothing is quite feeling. She feels a buzzing in her bag, it’s a call from Lucian. She see’s this as she stares at her phone.

She goes outside of the place, she stands alone outside in a dark atmosphere of rain and cloudiness.

L] Francesca! You haven’t answered any of my calls!

F] I’m sorry… things have been busy.

L] You’re voice sounds rough… Is everything ok, Cesca?

F] hoarse laugh I love you, Lucian. You know I do?

L] chuckling Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?

F] I am.

L] laughing now Sure, I love you too.

She stands in the hallway, the atmosphere darker than ever. She knows that’s the last time they will speak.

Time goes on like it always does. We see shots of her kissing her sister on their way to school. She runs off excitedly.

We see Cesca working at multiple jobs, A barista, a cashier.

We see them surviving, we see them laughing. We see her even more pregnant than the last time. (*maybe in a shot with her being in her third trimester with that skin detail. And in a crop top)

In one of the last scenes, she is at work. Fully pregnant and doing her job. She hunches over in pain, clutching her stomach. Possibly show a bit of blood trickling down her legs. Francesca yells in pain.

She is rushed in an ambulance, the lights are flashing. At the hospital nurses are rushing in and out. All she can do is cry, all she can do is scream.

F] NO! No-nooo

The screams fade to black, They are now back in the present. This clip will be brief. They are now in Francesca’s apartment. sitting on the floor or something. They are both crying, Francesca and Lucian.

F] through the tears Are you happy now? 6 whole years later.

L]also crying…

F] I’ve tried, Luc. To protect— I- there is no amount of words to describe this pain… I feel. How did you not notice, Luc?

L] I didn’t—…I-

F] He is- Was yours, Lucian.

L] crying intensified Mine? My?… (clearly in shock)

L] sobbing…

F] leave. GET OUT LUCIAN, LEAVE! Please. crying

he gets up, and leaves. this is it, they’re done.

[novaursa]

Web of Gold (royal wedding)

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Pairing: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen (+Aemond Targaryen?)

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: aegon is jealous

- Next part: honeymoon

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @purple-1995 @thisbiann @whiteoakoak

- A/N: The last part was skipping from present to past. I forgot to mention that. It has been fixed now.

The grand hall of the Red Keep has never looked so splendid. Golden tapestries hang from the walls, catching the light from the myriad of candles that bathe the room in a warm, shimmering glow. The floors are strewn with rich red and gold carpets, their colors a perfect match for the union taking place today—a union that has the blood of the dragon and the wealth of the lion entwined.

Your wedding to King Aegon II is nothing short of a spectacle. All of the nobility of Westeros is in attendance, their finery dazzling, but none more so than the families of the bride and groom. The Hightowers and the Lannisters are well represented, their seats in the front rows filled with dignified faces that watch every movement with keen interest.

At the head of it all stands Aegon, his usually unruly silver hair smoothed back for the occasion, though he still carries that familiar smirk as if he's already thinking about the revelry that will follow. He’s dressed in a regal black and red ensemble that reflects his Targaryen heritage, but with touches of gold embroidery—no doubt a nod to your Lannister lineage. As you approach down the aisle, his eyes are fixed solely on you, and his smirk softens into something more genuine, more admiring.

You, in turn, glide down the aisle with all the grace expected of a Lannister bride. Your gown is a masterpiece, shimmering gold and crimson silk, with intricate embroidery that mimics the flames of dragons and the roaring lions of your house. The entire court seems to hold its breath as you make your way toward Aegon, your steps light and confident, a smile playing at your lips.

Behind you, your uncles, the infamous Lannister twins, Tyland and Jason, follow with their usual contrasting expressions. Tyland, ever the composed and political one, watches the proceedings with an air of satisfaction, knowing how well this match bodes for the Lannister name. Jason, on the other hand, appears more relaxed, casting admiring glances around the hall and clearly enjoying the pomp and grandeur of it all. He leans over to Tyland at one point, whispering something, likely a comment on the opulence of the Red Keep, which Tyland responds to with a curt nod, his face impassive.

At the altar, Dowager Queen Alicent stands beside Otto Hightower, her father, both of them watching the ceremony with varying degrees of restraint. Alicent’s expression is one of controlled politeness, though there’s a tightness around her eyes that betrays her discomfort. She still hasn’t entirely warmed to the idea of her beloved son marrying someone who so effortlessly draws his attention away from her. Otto, however, seems entirely pleased, his hands folded neatly in front of him, his sharp eyes scanning the room as if mentally counting the alliances being forged today.

Aemond stands beside his brother, his face a mask of impassivity, though you know him well enough by now to catch the faint flicker of amusement in his eye. No doubt he finds the spectacle of Aegon getting married as something of an ironic twist, considering how hard Aegon fought to maintain his so-called "freedom." Aemond’s hand rests lightly on the hilt of his sword, as always, a silent reminder of his ever-watchful nature.

Helaena is there too, her dreamy expression focused on something far beyond the festivities, though she smiles softly when you pass her by. She’s dressed in a lovely gown of pale blue, her hair adorned with delicate silver ornaments shaped like butterflies. She murmurs something to herself, perhaps a quiet blessing for your future, though it’s impossible to tell for sure.

As you finally reach Aegon’s side, the High Septon Eustace begins the ceremonial words, his voice echoing through the hall. You can feel the eyes of the court on you, but your focus remains on Aegon, who is staring at you with a look that’s equal parts admiration and barely restrained mischief. His hand, warm and steady, slips into yours as you both face the High Septon, the weight of the crown on your head a constant reminder of the power this union represents.

“Do you, Aegon Targaryen, take Y/N of House Lannister to be your lawful wife, to honor and protect, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?” the High Septon intones.

Aegon’s grin spreads wide across his face, a flash of amusement dancing in his eyes. “I do,” he says, his voice rich with confidence, though there’s a playful edge to it that makes it clear he’s already thinking of what comes after the ceremony.

“And do you, Y/N of House Lannister, take Aegon Targaryen to be your lawful husband, to honor and stand beside, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

You meet Aegon’s gaze, the room around you momentarily fading as you reply, “I do.”

The High Septon raises his hands in blessing, proclaiming you husband and wife, and the hall erupts in applause. Aegon, ever the dramatic, doesn’t wait for the formal conclusion before leaning in to kiss you, his hands cupping your face as if you’re the only person in the room. The kiss is bold, full of the reckless passion Aegon is known for, and the court watches with varying degrees of approval and amusement.

Tyland and Jason exchange glances, Jason stifling a chuckle while Tyland remains impassive, though his eyes gleam with pride. They know the political weight of this match—House Lannister is now further entwined with the crown, and their power has only grown.

Alicent, however, watches the display with barely concealed annoyance, her lips pressed into a tight smile. She claps politely, though there’s a stiffness to her movements, a reminder that, in her mind, no one could ever truly be good enough for her precious son. Otto, on the other hand, seems entirely pleased, his eyes flicking toward Alicent as if to gauge her reaction, though he remains composed.

Aemond watches the kiss with a raised brow, a flicker of bemusement crossing his features. He shifts slightly, as though resisting the urge to roll his eye, though a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

The rest of the court stands, applauding as you and Aegon turn to face them, now husband and wife. You can feel the weight of expectation on your shoulders, but you stand tall, regal, with Aegon by your side. The cheers of the courtiers fill the hall, a cacophony of voices celebrating your union, and for a moment, it feels as though you and Aegon have already won over the entire kingdom.

As the feast begins, Jason Lannister raises his goblet in a loud toast. “To King Aegon and his golden bride! May their union bring strength to the realm!” His voice booms across the hall, earning cheers and nods of approval from the Lannisters in attendance.

Aegon, never one to miss an opportunity to revel in attention, raises his own goblet and smirks at you. “And may she forever spoil me with her affection, wine, and… other delights.”

The court erupts in laughter, and you can’t help but laugh too, casting a glance at Aemond, whose eye twitches in amusement, though he’s quick to hide it behind another sip of wine.

The night is long, filled with feasting, laughter, and the clinking of goblets as alliances are silently solidified with every toast. And as the evening draws on, you and Aegon bask in the glow of your new roles—King and Queen, dragon and lion, forever entwined in the history of Westeros.

The grand feast is in full swing. Laughter echoes off the vaulted ceilings of the Red Keep’s great hall, the clink of goblets and the shuffle of servants bringing more trays of roasted meats, fruits, and breads filling the space. At the high table, you sit next to Aegon, who is already well on his way to being pleasantly drunk. His cheeks are flushed, his laughter a little too loud, and every so often, he leans in to whisper something entirely inappropriate in your ear—something about what he intends to do later, no doubt—but you smile and nod, indulging him.

Across the table, Helaena sits quietly, her dreamy eyes fixed on the flickering candlelight as if it holds secrets only she can see. She picks absentmindedly at her plate, her fingers twirling a piece of bread like it's a delicate piece of embroidery. You catch her eye and smile warmly.

"Helaena," you say softly, leaning toward her, "are you enjoying the feast?"

She blinks, her gaze shifting to you as if coming back to the present from some distant dream. Her lips curve into a small, sweet smile. "It’s beautiful," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "But the butterflies… they’re dancing too close to the fire."

You pause, tilting your head, unsure whether she’s speaking in metaphors or if this is just one of Helaena’s usual cryptic musings. Either way, you smile back. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye on the butterflies, then.”

She giggles softly, her fingers finally releasing the bread as she takes a sip from her goblet. There’s something endearing about Helaena, her quiet innocence standing in contrast to the rowdy festivities around her. You find her company refreshing—though you’re well aware that others find her eccentric nature unsettling.

As you pour another cup of wine for Aegon, who is now thoroughly engaged in a one-sided conversation with Ser Criston about something involving dragons (though Criston’s blank stare suggests he’s only pretending to listen), you feel a sharp gaze on you. Without even looking, you know it’s Alicent.

You glance up to find her watching you with that familiar tight-lipped expression of disapproval. Her hands are clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles have gone white. It’s clear she doesn’t appreciate the way you cater to Aegon’s whims, particularly when it involves filling his goblet over and over. But tonight, she says nothing, her lips pressed into a thin, sour line as she watches you with silent judgment.

You flash her a smile, sweet as honey, and deliberately pour Aegon’s cup a little fuller than necessary, making sure the wine sloshes right to the rim. He grins up at you with a sloppy, grateful smile, lifting his goblet with an exaggerated flourish.

“Ah, my perfect queen!” Aegon slurs, raising the cup in a toast that sends a bit of wine splashing over the side. “Always knows exactly what I need.”

You pat his hand and nod, biting back a laugh. “Yes, my love. Always.”

Alicent’s expression tightens even further, but she still says nothing, clearly choosing to hold her tongue rather than cause a scene at such a grand occasion. Her frustration, however, is palpable.

With Aegon now thoroughly distracted by his wine and the increasingly nonsensical conversation with Ser Criston, you take the opportunity to slip away for a moment. The noise of the feast dulls slightly as you move toward the quieter end of the hall, where Aemond stands, ever the watchful observer, his gaze scanning the room like a hawk searching for prey. He doesn’t sit—Aemond never seems to relax the way Aegon does. Instead, he stands with a goblet of wine in hand, his tall frame as rigid and poised as ever.

As you approach, he glances at you, his single eye cool but alert, that faint smirk already playing on his lips as if he knows exactly why you’ve come.

“Your husband looks quite… spirited this evening,” Aemond says, his voice low and smooth. His gaze flickers to where Aegon is now halfway through another story, clearly embellishing the details for the benefit of anyone still bothering to listen.

You chuckle, standing beside him, your fingers brushing the stem of your own goblet. “Yes, well, that’s to be expected, isn’t it? A wedding and an endless supply of wine—it’s a dangerous combination for Aegon.”

Aemond’s lips twitch with amusement. “Dangerous for him, perhaps. More tiresome for the rest of us.”

You raise your goblet slightly, giving him a sidelong glance. “I suppose you’re used to enduring such… tiresome things, aren’t you, Aemond?”

His eye narrows slightly, a knowing glint in it. “I endure what I must. Though some things…” He pauses, his gaze lingering on you for a fraction longer than necessary, “are more tolerable than others.”

You hum in response, your lips curving into a small, playful smile. “How kind of you to say. And here I thought you preferred your solitude over any company.”

Aemond sips his wine, his eye never leaving yours. “Solitude has its merits. But there are certain… exceptions.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air between you, subtle but unmistakable. You glance back toward Aegon, who is now attempting to stand, swaying slightly as he raises his goblet in yet another toast, clearly drunk beyond reason. The sight is both amusing and pitiful, and you can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for your new husband. But at the same time, the pull of Aemond’s presence is undeniable, the tension between you two thickening with every passing second.

“And would I be one of those exceptions?” you ask softly, turning your attention back to Aemond. Your tone is light, teasing, but there’s a sharper edge beneath it.

Aemond’s smirk deepens, his gaze darkening as he lowers his goblet. He steps closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You already know the answer to that.”

Your heart quickens, but you keep your expression neutral, unwilling to give too much away. This dance between you and Aemond has been ongoing for some time—never spoken of directly, never acted upon, but always there, clawing just beneath the surface. And tonight, with Aegon too drunk to notice, the tension feels sharper than ever.

Before you can respond, Aegon’s voice cuts through the room, loud and slurred. “Y/N! Where are you, my queen? Come! We must… celebrate!”

You bite back a laugh, casting Aemond a glance that’s equal parts amused and exasperated. “Duty calls,” you say, stepping away with a sigh.

Aemond’s eye follows you as you move back toward Aegon, the weight of his gaze lingering on you like a silent promise.

[weebslawyer]

Il Capitano x reader (!fem !wife)

ANGST (based on the last AQ more or less)

AN: please excuse any grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language and I worte all this at 3am with blurry vision 😭

Words count: 1716

For five centuries, you had traversed the shifting sands of time, a quiet sentinel to the rise and fall of nations, the birth and ruin of dreams. The world flowed around you like a ceaseless river, its current reshaping mountains and cities, but you remained a stone beneath the surface—weathered, unyielding. Your soul had become a vast archive of echoes: the laughter of lovers turned to dust, the roar of battles etched in crimson, the whisper of civilizations swallowed by the maw of eternity. To endure beyond the reach of decay was not a triumph; it was a symphony played too long, a dance that outlived its music.

Beneath the shifting constellations, you stood as a paradox—unchanged as the stars rearranged their myths above him, eternal yet burdened with the ache of transient beauty. Eternity was not the gift poets promised, it was a weight that bent the very core of his being, a mirror reflecting centuries of loss. He bore it all—the unbearable light, the endless air thick with memory—not as a choice, but as a truth. You were the keeper of an unbroken vigil, a shadow in the unending dawn, a solitary defiance against time’s relentless march.

That's what you were.

Five hundred years passed since the fall of Khaenri'ah. The land still whispered its lament. Blackened spires clawed at the heavens, their jagged silhouettes etched against a sky that had long since forgotten the stars that once guided your people. The cursed earth beneath your feet bore the scars of divine wrath, its once-thriving beauty now a wasteland of sorrow and silence.

Five hundred years since the world forgot the name of your husband, now known as Capitano. Five hundred years since you fought alongside him for a better world, for the sake of Khaenri'ah people, for the safety of the royal family. Five hundred years since you were round and glowing with his children, their essence long gone now, their bodies dust in wind, the only remains are the little stones you created out of what was left, hidden and stored away. Five hundred years since you last touched your husbands soft, yet scared skin, a symbol of all the fights he has been through, always a champion, and formidable warrior. Five hundred years since you saw the face of the man you love so dearly. A man hunted by his past, a man hunted by his mistakes, his regrets. He was a strong man, and you knew that. He knew that. But yet, all you could do was to wrap your arms around him from behind, a simple gesture to show him that you are there, no matter what, no matter where his choices lead him. His hands always finding yours. The wedding ring, still shining on his finger, matching yours, triumphing over the pass of time, the countless battles. You were always there when he was reminiscing of that kingdom, a fragment of its lost glory, cursed with eternal life but stripped of everything that made life worth living. In his eyes burned the memory of the golden halls of old Khaenri'ah, now reduced to ash, and the faces of those he had loved, now shadows haunting his immortal heart.

Yet somehow, after the passing of time, of challenges, of loss and grief, it was only you and him, him and you.

You were a storm wrapped in flesh, the fire to Capitano’s shadow, a presence as unyielding as the steel of his blade. Where others faltered in fear before his masked visage, you met him with unwavering resolve, your eyes a mirror of his endless determination. From the blood-stained fields of battle to the silent corridors of treachery, you had walked beside him—not as a fragile tether to humanity, but as an anchor that steadied him in the tumult of his unrelenting duty.

You had seen him rise, a towering force among mortals, his loyalty bound not by sentiment but by a fierce, unshakable will. When the world turned against him, branding him a monster, you stood defiant at his side, your voice sharp as any blade, declaring his truth to a world deaf to honor.

In the quiet moments between wars and commands, you were the calm that soothed the tempest within him. You traced the edges of his mask with your fingers as if memorizing the unseen face beneath, whispering truths only he would hear. "You are not alone," you would tell him, her words a shield against the abyss of his solitude.

Through victories and losses, betrayals and triumphs, you remained. Even as the Harbingers gathered their might and the skies darkened with the weight of impending fate, you presence was his unspoken strength. You were not merely his wife but his equal, a force as indomitable as the tides, as eternal as the stars.

In you, Capitano found not just a partner but a reflection of his own relentless spirit—a reminder that even in the cold, merciless march of duty, there could still be warmth, still be love. Together, you were an unstoppable force, your bond a defiance of the world’s cruelty, your story a testament to the power of loyalty, love, and unyielding resolve, but no one will be able to learn about it.

The battlefield was eerily silent when the news reached you—a silence that followed the storm, a silence that mocked your fury. Capitano was gone. The unyielding tower of strength, your shield, your partner through centuries of unrelenting trials, had fallen.

Your breath hitched, with sorrow, but also with a rage so fierce it burned away any tears before they could form. They dared to take him from you.They dared to strike down the one constant in your life, the man who had fought against gods and monsters, who had endured a world that sought to crush him, and who had always returned to you.

You stood on the precipice of the world’s madness, your grief transforming into an inferno that would consume anything in its path. The stars themselves seemed to tremble as your voice split the air, a cry of mourning and of war. A war so painful yet so devastating on your soul.

"Capitano," you whispered, your hands trembling as you looked at him, sitting on a throne that held no king, but a throne that held your lover, the man of men, the warrior of all warriors, the man that long ago was holding your children

"I swore I would stand with you through everything. And now, even in death, I will not abandon you." You said as you slowly approached his lifeless body.

You slowly crawled closer to him, pain eating your soul alive, seeing him like this destroying you. You made your way on his lap, a place where you always find comfort through storms and angry thunders, but this time his arms couldn't comfort you anymore, they couldn't wrap around you anymore, soothe you again. You could hear his weak breathes, a body who's soul long left. You looked at him while your tears where washing your face, not seeming to stop soon. Your trembling hands reached to pull his mask off, to see the man. To see your husband. To see the man that promised you eternity.

"You were my strength" you murmured into the night, your voice a steel-edged whisper. "Now I will be yours."

You spoke softly, even if the tears in your eyes made everything so hard to see. You put his mask on your lap, so now your hands can touch his face, feel the cold skin against your fingers. Your touch so gentle, not wanting to hurt him even in death. You took in every detail, like he will vanish the second you close your eyes.

"You promised me I won't lose you too. Not after everything, my love. Not like this." You whispered biting your lip, before speaking again "I don't know if you will ever hear me, if you are even around like a stray ghost, but I promise we will meet again soon. I will hold you again, kiss you, and love you all over again in the afterlife. Just don't forget me until then, my brave warrior. Oh my love, my peace, my place, my forever. This time be my light through the darkness" you said, kissing his cheeks, his forehead, and his lips one last time, cradling at his chest, being close to him like that, your mind slowly calming down, remembering all the comfortable moments like that, where being in his arms and presence where the only moments of peace in your life.

You spend days like this, not moving in the slightest from his lap. Moving away from him would feel like a divorce. But slowly, beside the immense pain that threatened to rip your heart out, anger started to settle in. Was his sacrifice necessary? Was there anyone to even pretent his heroic act? Why did death consider now that it's time for Capitano to join him and leave you here all alone? You had all those thoughts, crying and breaking down every time you remembered where you were. Pain consuming you hole, whispering to take your revenge, to destroy whoever did that, to hunt down everyone who let this happen.

Your fury was a thing of legend, a tempest that dwarfed even the wrath of gods. You would not rest until you knew the truth of his fall, until the blood of those responsible stained the earth beneath your feet. The Harbingers would hear your fury, the Archons would feel your wrath, and the heavens themselves would tremble beneath your rage. They took every from you, they took the melody that lingers in the chords of your soul, his name the refrain in your heart that keeps singing.

And unfortunately, your vengeance was not reckless, it was calculated, cold, and precise. Every step you took was deliberate, every strike a tribute to the man who had fought for a world unworthy of him. You would burn the skies and sunder the earth if it meant avenging him. For you, love was not a gentle thing, and your anger, born of loss, would not be silenced until the scales of justice were balanced—until those who had taken him paid in kind.

[a-hermit-pining]

LaDs Men as RomCom Movies

AN: Sylus' is major canon divergence. But that is the way of romcoms. I reckon this blog needs some fluff after the last post.

Pairing: LaDS boys x gn reader

Genre: rom com au, canon divergence

Ingredients: 100% fluff

My Fav: hmmmmm idk

(I do not own any of these characters)

Rafayel: Midnight in Paris 🧜🏻‍♂️

You were just an archaeologist. Specializing in Lemurian court ruins. Quiet. Logical. Never believed in myths. Only in stratigraphy and proper carbon dating.

So naturally, it made sense when you were cataloging an unclassified pearl and stepped through a half-collapsed archway… only for the world to shift around you.

Gone was the dig site. In its place: marble columns, flowing water, and a spring that shimmered like it was blessed by a god.

Which, as it turns out...it was.

A man...no, a siren, lounged lazily in the center of the pool, draped in silks and annoyance. He blinked at you. Stared.

Then said, in accented Lemurian: “A mortal? How dare you.”

A bar of soap hit your head. You blinked.

He blinked harder.“…Leave before I drown you out of sheer embarrassment,” he muttered, sinking slightly into the water.

You should run. You should record. You should definitely not flirt with the shirtless demigod pouting in a moonlit pool.

And yet. "You're real," you breathed.

Rafayel rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately.”

Xavier: 10 Things I hate About You 🤺

It started as a bet. A desperate one.

The knights of House Flame, exhausted, bruised, and teetering on the edge of mutiny, cornered Crown Prince Xavier behind the barracks and begged him for mercy.

“Just one night,” they said. “One gods damned evening without patrol rotations or combat drills or Captain Death’s Right Hook breathing down our necks.”

The condition? Get the captain to attend the royal ball.

Easy, Xavier thought. How hard could it be to charm a soldier? Then he met you.

You, with your armor still half on and your sword strapped across your back at the banquet table. You, who glared at the string quartet like they’d personally offended your ancestors.

He tried every line he had. You blocked every one with a deadpan stare and a curt, “I don’t dance.”

He said it was strategy training. You said it was entrapment. He brought flowers. You threw them at his second-in-command.

And yet. Here he was. At the ball. With you.

You in dark crimson, your armor traded for something that somehow still made you look like war incarnate. Your fingers on his. Your brow furrowed like you were still trying to figure out why the hell you were here.

The knights cheered from the edge of the ballroom. The bet was won. But Xavier wasn’t thinking about that anymore.

Because somewhere between your refusal to waltz and the way you let him twirl you, once, clumsily, but with a smile, he realized something terrifying.

He wanted a second dance. And this time, he wouldn’t need a wager to get it.

Zayne: Me, Before You 👩🏻‍🦼‍➡️

He’d done this before.

Treated war survivors. Cursed aristocrats. One fire witch who tried to hex the entire ward because her IV drip was "aesthetically insulting."

That’s why he had the reputation he did.

So when famous Dr. Zayne was assigned to you, the terminally ill, emotionally volatile heir of a very wealthy (and very dramatic) family. He didn’t expect much.

Another spoiled patient. Another person who’d given up long before the prognosis did.

What he didn’t expect was to be:

Forced to judge midnight wheelchair races in your family’s marble hallways ("Speed is relative, Zayne, don’t be boring.")

Learning to DIY allergen-safe brownies that wouldn’t send you to the afterlife faster than fate already planned

Thrusted into corset duty during an impromptu costume ball you hosted in your bedroom ("Don’t ask." "I wasn’t going to." "You paused." "...Fair.")

He was supposed to be your doctor.

Not your chaos coordinator.

Not your reluctant best friend.

And definitely not the man who sits on your balcony every sunset, holding your hand like he’s already mourning something that hasn’t happened yet.

Sylus: The Proposal 💍

When Sylus, yes, that Sylus, head of Onichynus, past dragon, terrifying, charming, a little too beautiful to be legal, tells you you’re getting married…

You assume it’s a joke.

“Married,” you repeat.

He nods once, solemn. “To me.”

Pause. “…Why.”

“There’s an inheritance clause. Council won’t release the southern territories unless I present a bonded partner.” He looks away like it pains him. “I would rather die than marry any of the harpies they lined up. So.”

He slides the ring box across the table.

You open it. There’s an actual, live ruby in it. It purrs.

Next thing you know, you’re flying first-class (on the back of his cousin) to his ancestral villa in the Drakherin mountains, where:

His grandmother keeps saying “finally”. His cousin tries to duel you for fun. The staff already embroidered your initials on the sheets. And Sylus keeps doing things like pulling you close for warmth and forgetting to let go

“You’re doing it again,” you mutter one night, pressed against his chest.

“What?”

“Holding me like it’s real.”

He stiffens. Then shrugs. “Maybe I’m just a good actor.”

“You’re literally growling when I talk to other people.”

“Authenticity is important.” He murmurs, suddenly very interested in the satin pillowcase.

Caleb: 13 Going on 30 ⏳

You wake up in a bed that isn’t yours. The ceiling’s too high. The sheets are too soft. The arm around you is heavy. Cold. Metal.

You scream. You fling yourself out of the bed with so much force that you hit the floor sideways, taking the blanket and your dignity, with you.

The man in the bed bolts upright. Half-asleep. Half-naked and fully terrifying. “Pips?!” he shouts, voice panicked. “Are you hurt?!”

You point at him. “DO NOT CALL ME THAT!”

He stops mid-motion. Eyes wide yet confused.

You crawl backward. “You’re a STRANGER and you have a METAL ARM and WHY ARE YOU IN MY BED?!”

He stares. “I...this is my bed?”

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not—”

“You know my nickname!” He looks even more confused. “I know everything about you.”

GROSS.” You grab a pillow and yeet it at him with alarming force. “STALKER.”

“I’m not...Pips, it’s me. It’s Caleb.”

You freeze. Blink once. Stare at him. “…No you’re not,” you whisper.

“Yes. I am.”

“Caleb is twelve. He likes bugs and eats chalk and cried when I kicked him in tag.” You squint at him like he’s an imposter sent by a very dramatic cult. “You have, like, abs. And a jawline. And chest hair. Caleb is my age and has braces, okay?!”

He blinks. “Huh... what?”

Your eyes widen. “CALEB!!” you scream, full volume, as you bolt from the bed and take off sprinting through the unfamiliar apartment. Clearly this man had abducted you. Or time-cloned you. Or age-spelled you into your thirties and was trying to pretend to be your best friend.

Either way, this was STRANGER DANGER: LEVEL APOCALYPSE. The transformer man yells after you. You shriek again and dive behind a dresser.

He follows, confused and shirtless, cautiously peeking around the corner. “Pips, please,”

You grab a lamp. “I SWEAR I’LL THROW THIS,” you warn, shaking.

“…That’s grandma’s heirloom.”

[enyaliuswrites]

➽ By Sword or By Love

Prince!Sylus x Warrior Princess!fem reader 100 followers special. 1.89k words.

Prince LADS Masterlist

Prince!Sylus, who’s feared by everyone—soldiers, commoners and even the royal family. The Warrior Prince, once a small boy holding a sword too heavy for his blistered hands, was molded into the cold and ruthless General by going through hell and back.

Prince!Sylus, who spends nights inside meeting halls, formulating strategies, and days outside in training grounds, sharpening both his own skills and those of his soldiers. Although his looks and achievements could make a grown man cower, the prince doesn’t lack compassion. He watches over his soldiers, ensuring they rest when they’ve pushed too far and offering both guidance and understanding. 

Prince!Sylus, who is almost always riding out to battle. Mounted on his black stallion, he leads a trail of soldiers beyond the safety of the capital’s walls. As they pass, the common folk watch—some with admiration, others with quiet criticism.

Prince!Sylus, who makes an effort to engage in royal public affairs but almost always fails. It’s not exactly his fault if an emergency at the border demands his attention or if a riot in the crowd forces him to intervene. More often than not, these events end in the townspeople divided—some casting wary glances and murmured disapproval, while others raise him onto an impossibly high pedestal.

Prince!Sylus, who finds himself on yet another abrupt mission—riding his black stallion to the kingdom’s border to quell a serious rebellion attempt, all while in the middle of yet another failed attempt at royal public affairs. Having spent more years on the battlefield than he can count, the prince has seen many things—but a woman from the neighboring kingdom fighting their rebels is enough to make him raise an eyebrow.

The familiar crest of the neighboring kingdom was the first thing that caught Sylus's eyes after he had cut down the rampaging rebels. Confusion washed over him next but he quickly pushed it aside as he ordered his soldiers to tend to your wounds. 

And that’s where you found yourself, waking up to a sore body and the white haired man who was sleeping in a chair in the corner of the room. Instincts kick in and you immediately search your surroundings—nothing but a normal looking inn. Four walls, two windows, a door, a bed, a chair and a table. Looking down, you find your side wrapped in bandages as well as your left arm. 

“Don’t move too much, I wouldn’t want the precious princess to be injured.” 

The first thing that caught your eyes was his crimson eyes, the second was that cocky smile of his that all you wanted to do was punch it right off his face. You knew who this was almost immediately. You recognized him instantly. The renowned Warrior Prince, ruthless and bloodthirsty. As a soldier, you always knew your paths would cross someday, but never did you expect it to happen like this.

Getting up to leave, that’s when you feel a tug on your right wrist and immediately realized you were chained. “What the heck? I demand to be released at once, unless you want our kingdoms to go to war.”

It wasn’t an empty threat. Sure your kingdom may have been smaller, but you had a team of elite forces that your father had cultivated for decades, even against Sylus's overwhelming numbers of troops and advanced technology, you were sure that victory would be assured.

Sylus smirks, leaning in slightly as he meets your glare head-on, “War? Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” He tilts his head, his crimson eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “You’re not a hostage—you're a key to peace. So, why don’t we talk?”

A scoff leaves your throat as your eyes roll. Who in their right mind would hold up a princess, chain her up and say that ‘she’s not a hostage’. The thought alone seems absurd and here the mad man sat, his muscular legs spread as he wore lavish clothing. 

“Are you not afraid? Holding a princess like this. What makes you so sure that as soon as I’m back I won’t wage war on you?”

His crimson eyes glinted under the dim inn lights, sending a wave of unease through you. He was too calm, too collected. The sheer audacity of his actions had to be backed by something—otherwise, he wouldn’t have done something this reckless. “I have my ways.”

Manipulation? Torture? Those were the first thoughts that raced through your mind. But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for this. The Warrior Prince, feared across battlefields, was… harvesting fruit? Wearing a simple farmer’s hat, he plucked cherries from the trees with practiced care, ensuring the stems remained intact before placing them gently into the basket on his back.

The scene seemed unreal. What was even more unreal was that you were helping him. Turning your head to look behind you, you saw how your basket was half full with cherries and suddenly a plan brewed in your head, “If I collect more cherries then you’ll let me go home.” “And if not?” His deep, husky voice cut through the air as he didn’t stop—his attention was still on the cherry tree in front of him as he continued to pluck. 

“Then I might consider not waging war.” 

After an hour, it became painfully clear that this deal had never been in your favor. Your basket was full, yet Sylus had already filled two—and he was still going. Only after enduring a few snarky remarks from the prince did you finally, albeit reluctantly, admit defeat.

He took you to a restaurant. At first, you held your ground, refusing to eat as you watched him casually enjoy his meal, occasionally feeding nuts to the crow perched on his shoulder. But then, one particular dish arrived, and its scent hit you like a charging horse. That was the moment you gave in—and what a decision that was. The cuisine of Sylus's kingdom was rich in flavor and creativity, with unexpected ingredients complementing each other in ways that somehow worked out. 

You didn’t want to see it, but nonetheless the sigh of Sylus's smirk returns as he leans forward, resting his chin on his hand, “For someone so stubborn, you sure caved pretty fast.” 

Ignoring his words, you continue to eat, thinking of a response. Any time wasted on him would be time wasted from eating and you sure as hell weren’t sure when you would be back to eat this. However, before you’re even about to retort, he speaks again, this time his voice lower,

“You don’t always have to put up a front. You can just… enjoy things. No one’s going to think less of you for it.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift. The way he says it—so casual, yet oddly sincere—makes your heart skip a beat and the gears in your brain malfunction. Sure, you were also a renowned warrior, but this was empathy shown by someone who’s name revolved around being cold and inhumane.

But before you could answer or dwell on it, his smirk returned, "That said, if you keep eating like that, I might start thinking you were starving before I found you."

The tone had shifted back. But that didn’t mean you had forgotten what he said. The whole day had revealed a side of the Warrior Prince that wasn’t so warrior-like. Those rumors were almost instantly shut down, and honestly, you were intrigued with what was more to come.

Prince!Sylus, who spends the next few days with you. Harvesting fruits, cooking and nightly walks were full of competition. Who could harvest the most? Who could cook the better food? Who could run to the other side faster? Who could find the most constellations? Each time Sylus would win, and even though it did sour your mood, it was refreshing to see what he did afterwards. He would never gloat, only being quiet and then asking you something about yourself and your kingdom. 

Prince!Sylus, who you finally see when he practices his swordsmanship when you woke up early one day. The sun hadn’t risen yet, yet you heard the sounds of grunts and swinging just outside of the inn. And that’s where the prince was, standing outside in the dark with only the moonlight being his light source as he practiced hundreds of techniques. 

Prince!Sylus, who the next day allowed you to win in a contest of who could guess the most ingredients in a dish. He had made it seem close, but you knew he had let you win by the soft smile he thought was discreet when the chef, trembling from Sylus's imposing presence, hesitantly declared you the winner. You surprised yourself when you, in return, asked something about him, instead of leaving. The moment the question left your lips did you realize how much more you were curious about the white haired man.

Prince!Sylus, who engaged in more competitions with you; who could shoot the farthest. Who could best each other at the spear. And finally, who would win in a swordfight. The training grounds grew a crowd as you two battled it out. The fight lasted for hours and only stopped because Sylus had urgent matters to attend to, one of his two faithful soldiers rushing over and nearly getting decapitated by your sword.

Prince!Sylus, who apologized to you and gave you a smug smile before saying how he hopes that you don’t wage war on him. He arranged a carriage for you and assigned soldiers to ensure your safe journey back. And just like that, you found yourself back in your kingdom, your mind swirling and trying to comprehend that the last two weeks weren't a dream.

Prince!Sylus, who swiftly sent a message to your kingdom, his loyal soldier racing to deliver the news to your father a mere 3 days after your return. The message conveyed Sylus's intent to form a peace treaty, and he hoped the king would graciously welcome his visit in a week's time.

Prince!Sylus, who kept stealing glances at you during the welcoming banquet. His eyes were practically glued to you, and he didn’t even try to hide it. Shame? He had none. The entire hall could see his intense focus, and even when you caught him, he refused to look away. It was like a silent staring contest, and when you finally broke the gaze, he couldn’t resist the small, satisfied smirk that tugged on his lips.

Prince!Sylus, who announced a marriage treaty. If you married him then both kingdoms would have peace for many more years to come. Peace that even if you betrayed him he still wouldn’t attack you or your kingdom. It was sudden and your father was reluctant, waiting for your answer. However, with your officials only supporting the idea and informing you of how much that would benefit your kingdom, you agreed.

Prince!Sylus, whose vows, even though the marriage was shallow in terms of relationship and deeper in functionality, touched your heart. He vowed to protect your kingdom as fiercely as his own. To cherish every quiet moment with you, even in the midst of chaos. He promised to be your refuge, your unwavering presence, no matter the storms that may come. And to, above all, ensure that you never had to fight alone—whether in battle or in life. 

A/N: IM SO SORRY ITS BEEN LIKE A WEEK- I HAVE NO EXCUSE EXCEPT FOR WRITERS BLOCK. I promise Caleb's one will be within 3 day this time T^T. THANK YOU GUYS FOR 192 FOLLOWERS HOLY- honestly I might need to also make this into a 200 followers special soon because of how fast you guys give me love :,). I love all of you guys so much aughh <3333 Dividers by @mikeykuns

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