DNI: Anyone who fits the basic DNI criteria, minors (<18), ageless blogs, blank blogs, anyone who uses or supports AI
Just remember that this is not a democracy; I will block you if I deem it necessary. However, if you're kind and respectful, you shouldn't worry too much ♡
‧₊˚. Delving Deeper ‧₊˚.
This is a sideblog, so interactions such as likes and follows will come from my main @/pastelpixies
The pond is a bit of a catch-all blog; it's mostly me rambling, fandom related things, and me reblogging things I enjoy
It is also my self-ship blog, so it will be a bit self-indulgent at times. If that's not something you want to see, feel free to curate your space as needed. I'm always open to talk about your ships though! Feel free to stop by and chat any time :)
I'd like to kindly ask that my self-ship and personal posts (which will be tagged accordingly) stay personal. Interacting is fine, but please be mindful
‧₊˚. The Depths ‧₊˚.
I can get quite busy at times, so if I don't get back to you quickly, I promise I'm not ignoring you. I likely haven't seen it yet, or I'm waiting until I have more time to give you the attention you deserve. It's never personal, I promise
That said, unfortunately, even when I do have time, I move at a snail's pace, so please be patient with me
Please feel free to tag me in whatever you'd like, I love seeing the world through your eyes
Also, feel free to spam like/reblog, I'll likely do the same (with those that are comfortable)
‧₊˚. Tags ‧₊˚.
As of right now, the tags are the friends we made along the way, because if I waited until I had a proper tag list to make this post, we would be waiting forever. As such, there will be untagged nsfw at times. However, I will do my best to tag potentially triggering content when applicable
HOUSE OF ALVIN "The Marquess" Dress and Jacket 2026
pls help me get out of debt donating to: ko-fi.com/fashionrunways or dinahlance-shop.fourthwall.com
Yes yes we all love the thought of that vampire biting you but have we considered biting them? Have we thought about the shocked gasp they let out when you do and how much it turns them on? Have we thought about that?
knight!dante x princess!reader. cw: mentions of childbirth with very few descriptors. romantic, the process naming a child. | wc: 1.5k
You labored through the night to welcome this country’s future queen.
Through the ferocity of contractions, pains so excruciating no more experienced woman who had done the same thing six times over could have ever prepared you for no matter how hard she tried, the blood, the tears, the screams, you made it to the other side.
Now, you rest and Dante, the man you love so dearly, has taken control of the room just as he used to on the battlefield.
The light of dawn filters in through parted curtains, the sun rising over the kingdom that this girl who is no larger than the length of his forearm will someday roar over. Her lungs are certainly going to be up for the job if her grand entrance into the world gave everyone a preview, similar to yours as you bellowed the cries of pain that broke the heart of the man pacing across the expanse of the large window that gives a stunning view of the courtyard.
For all the understandable fuss the two of you made, silence is what now rules in the quarters of the new parents. Not a midwife remains; the man who vowed himself your protector before he was granted the honor of being your husband sent any nurses that lingered away, wishing for privacy after your condition was confirmed to be stable and okay.
The ordeal of childbirth was illuminating for both of you in different ways. It reminded him just how strong you are and have always been despite the terror that ripped through him upon seeing you in such a state, a shock to the man who used to wade knee deep through blood and death, even administering much of it himself.
He never wants to see hurt or suffering. It’s why he has periodically checked on you for hours, shifting from the chair by the bed to sitting on the other side of it cradling the littlest thing he’s ever held to pacing around to placing the baby in her bassinet and kneeling beside you, simply watching.
How can he sleep when he has two things to look over now?
Perhaps this has all been part of your plan since you decided you loved him, keeping him busy for the rest of his days even at his age. Shaking his head, amused, he looks down at the face of his daughter. He sees himself, most prominently in what appears to be blue eyes when they’re actually open, but he sees you in everything else. Nose, lips, and hair, she’s all you, the second coming of the kingdom’s delight.
Lucky girl.
“You put your mother through quite the fight, rosebud,” he mutters softly to the beautiful, soft thing in his arms.
From the ornate bed he hears a tired laugh, turning to see you propped halfway up with your hand cupping your face.
“Rosebud, eh? Sounds as though she already has you wrapped around that little finger.”
Your voice is raspy, unused for hours until now to the breathtaking sight before you – your daughter and her father bathed in the golden sunlight’s glow. The downy hair atop her head looks the same color as yours when the light shines on it, a crown to mirror the one she will someday wear.
Emotion overwhelms you yet you swallow, remembering that you are regal and unflappable even when faced with the magic of the new life that you created.
“If her mother is the rose of the kingdom, would that not make her daughter the rosebud?” He retorts, returning to his post at the side of the bed.
This time he takes a seat atop the recently changed linens, next to you, his body turned to show off your labor of love to your bleary eyes.
“She’s beautiful, just like her mother,” he continues, carefully moving her from his chest to the crook of his arm so you can gaze upon what love has made. “God willing, may she give me fewer issues.”
You smile softly though it turns into a grimace as you move. His face contorts in concern but you shake your head as you reach to wrap your hand around his shoulder, instinctively using him as leverage to pull yourself all the way up to sitting.
It’s uncomfortable but it’s nothing compared to the pain you were in mere hours ago.
“And I’m certain she will be as kind and insubordinate as her father,” you whisper, leaning to rest your cheek against his bicep.
Looking down at you, his heart swells with pride.
The reality of the situation is such that it will never just be the two of you and the inane things you get up to again. Despite this, a strange sense of wholeness fills his chest just the same, a future he was uncertain he’d ever claim promised before him.
Once upon a time he’d vowed to leave his life behind on a battlefield, far away from the kingdom he called home. Now he cannot imagine being even one day’s ride away from the two of you, mind turning in terror at the mere thought.
Sir Dante, the Demon of the Killing Fields, has a family.
Smiling at you, he nods down toward her for just a moment before returning to gazing lovingly at the first precious thing he ever held.
“What should we name her?”
His question moves you. Part of you was concerned that your husband would be as uninvolved with childrearing as your father was to your mother – absent at every birth including the one that thrust you, his successor, upon the earth – but he’s ever stalwart and vigilant at your side, eager to be involved.
“We could name her after your mother,” you suggest, considering what a lovely name it would be in honor of the lovely woman you have faint memories of.
Dante shakes his head, hiding how his heart skips a beat over your constant generosity toward him. Your devotion to creating a place for him not only in your heart but in the family royal has always been unparalleled. It’s one of the reasons he’s found it easy to fall as deeply in love with you as he has despite your pouts and demands and the paces you’ve put him through.
They were all worth it to end up here, as far as he’s concerned.
“I’d like her to have a name all her own. She’s going to be queen someday, it’s the least we can do.”
Nodding in understanding, you finally reach with a trembling hand to touch the soft cheek of your child. Before you can stop them, tears well in your eyes, sliding down your cheeks and dripping onto the fabric that clings to his arm.
“She’s really ours, my love,” you marvel, sniffling, lifting your head to lean down and take a good look at her for the first time since giving birth. “You’re our fearsome, thorny little rose, aren’t you?”
Furrowing his brow, he leans down to kiss your forehead.
“My daughter has no thorns.”
You snort, looking up through your eyelashes to meet his eyes.
“The pain between my legs would beg to differ,” you offer humorously, punctuating your words with a sniffle which concerns your husband.
“Are you alright or should I beckon a nurse?”
Shaking your head, you lean against him once more, reaching across his lap to pet the top of her head.
“No. I’m alright, I merely wish to name our child, Dante.”
Unshakeable as ever, aren’t you? He chuckles, unable to help himself, and hums quietly while you breathe at his side.
What’s in a name? He wonders how his own father felt when he named his twin sons, tasked with coming up with two instead of one. Did he mull it over like this, turning every possibility over in his head? That would be unlike Sparda, knowing he’d name solely off of instinct rather than a carefully considered decision.
Taking a theoretical page from his father’s book, he goes with his instincts, looking down at the little red cheeks and lips of his daughter.
“Rosemary,” he states confidently, just as the child begins to slowly open her eyes.
Leaning over his lap despite the ache in your groin, you look at her and nod.
“I believe she agrees,” you giggle, placing a kiss on her little hand that stretches out toward the ceiling, so overwhelmed with love and perhaps exhaustion that your eyes well up, unable to contain the emotions running through you.
As little as the knight-turned-husband-turned-future-king envisioned such a thing, you envisioned it even less, convinced no man would ever be able to tolerate much less truly love you and all that comes with your life.
Fortunately, you found such love and as they told you upon your wedding day, true love multiplies. You are more grateful than any one woman should be, tears falling freely, unable to even speak to your child.
Dante looks down and reaches to wipe your cheek with his thumb, reminding you that he’s still your protector first and foremost and forevermore.
“Do you agree, my heart’s treasure?” he asks, continuing to thumb away every last tear.
You nod, vigorously, eager to let him name not only this child but however many more he will bless you with to come.
For now you welcome Rosemary, the symbol of fidelity. An ode to her father’s loyalty and her mother’s faithfulness.
