#he clearly loves his son fiercely

[sweettkstrand]

Did anyone else just love Owen’s reaction when he opened the door to TK? I mean he practically squealed. The way he said his name was so cute. I love that we’re getting back to season 1 Strand Boys.

[multific]

Moonlight 

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Wife!Reader

Warnings: childbirth (no detailed description)

Summary: Aemond loves his little wife, so naturally, when you give birth to your first son, Aemond falls in love even deeper. However, when a simple refusal of his breaks your heart, it will be difficult for him to win you back.

It was hard to keep you close. You were much like Aemond, a true fighter. You had a fire in you which couldn't be questioned. A fire towards him, pure love. And now, fire towards your son.

Aeren was only born a week ago, yet you protected him fiercely like a dragon.

And you refused to let the small child out of your hands.

When Aemond was allowed in the room, he saw the blood, he heard your screams and many times, he wanted to barge in but he knew he couldn't.

So, once he was allowed in, someone informed him that it was a boy and that you were in bad shape. 

Aemond could see it, you looked beyond tired, yet you smiled.

But your smile didn't last long.

Aemond refused to hold his son. 

"Give him to me." he heard your voice as he looked from the woman holding his son to you. You looked angry. Way too angry.

It was too late when Aemond realised what he had just done.

He refused to hold his own child.

And since then, you didn't speak a word to him.

You slept in a different room with your baby, sometimes, late at night, he heard the cries. He wanted to get up and go to you but he couldn't, his guilt was overbearing. 

"You should put a leash on her, brother. If I had a wife like that, she wouldn't be sleeping in another room." Aegon taunted his brother daily. 

One day, you were in the gardens, walking with your son in your arms when Aegon spoke up.

Aemond never heard his brother speak with such longing.

"I truly wish she was mine." 

Aemond looked at his brother who was watching you.

"But she's mine." was his simple and firm reply.

But you truly weren't.

You used to be, now, you just sat next to him during dinners. 

One night, you excused yourself, and he followed you.

In an empty corridor, he spoke up.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he knew why. He very well knew why.

"I'm sorry, My Prince." you turned and looked at him. "I believe you are mistaken. I'm not avoiding you, I just hate to see the disappointment on your face." this surprised Aemond. "I gave birth to a child you refused to even look at. I loved you, Prince Aemond, I truly did. But I love my child more. And if you cannot look at him, you won't get to look at me. Fill your bed with whores for all I care. Goodnight." 

"You are mistaken." he said, not letting you leave, but you did grab the handle. "You-You were in that bed, crying, screaming and bleeding for hours. I couldn't do anything. And when they let me in, the blood... so much... they told me you were weak, you survived but you needed a lot of rest. How-How could I hold my child when the love of my life almost died? How could I look at him when I was worried to even look at you? I feared you would die giving birth. I was shaking. I feared losing you and my child. That is why I didn't hold him. I was scared." you stood there, your hand on the door, you looked away from his eyes.

"Then you could have just fucking say so, Aemond! For fucks sake!"

"That is not very lady-like."

"FUCK lady-like, you made me believe you hate me and our son! I believed I disappointed you since you wanted a daughter."

"I said I would be happy either way. My emphasis was on a girl because I feared if you had a daughter, you would see that as disappointing my bloodline."

"You are fucking terrible at communicating." you opened the door and walked into the huge room in which you stayed the last couple of weeks.

Aemond followed you, and watched as you walked over to the small bed and picked up your son. "Next time, you should just tell me. Letting me assume things clearly don't work out." 

"Of course." a small smile found its way onto his lips, next time, it was the promise of a future, a promise of more, something he could work towards. He walked over to you after closing the door. "I wish to hold him." you handed him the small child who didn't even stir in his sleep. "Aeren you named him I recall." Aemond's attention was now fully on his son as you decided to leave the two alone after watching them for a couple of minutes.

You got changed and when you arrived back, Aemond was sitting on the bed, his son on his chest.

"Some nights I heard his cries. It broke my heart but I broke yours far more. I apologise for not being clear and for causing you pain. I am truly sorry."

"I'm sorry as well. I should have asked." you said as you sat down next to him. "I will have to feed him soon."

"I will stay here with you."

You smiled as the moon shined through the window, illuminating the room a little more, helping the fire so you could see your husband's face.

"I love you so much Aemond."

"I love you too, My Queen." you giggled, moving closer to him as he leaned down to kiss you.

You two kissed in the moonlight until your son made it clear that he was hungry.

It all made you look towards a better future.

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse  @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @brascaris @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[quotergirl19]

Random thoughts on Colin & Portia:

I loved watching how the “neighbor boy,” Portia Featherington assumed was a typical rakish gentleman, out of reach and unrealistic for Penelope to like:

Declared his love for her daughter assuredly, fervently and loudly to make sure nobody dared question that he wanted to marry her.

Defended Penelope fiercely even against her own mother to make clear that mistreating or disrespecting his woman would not be tolerated.

Discovered Penelope was Lady Whistledown (after he himself said no one would ever marry LW because she would bring ruin on her family) but not only did he not end the engagement despite being upset with Penelope about it, he married her anyway and his vows were undeniably heartfelt and sincere, he gave her a wedding ring which was not necessary or common practice at the time apparently (Daphne just got the one ring from Simon), and he danced with her in broad daylight at their wedding breakfast (rather romantically).

He was immediately furious the second he heard that someone would dare blackmail his wife, and not only would he not stand for it, he immediately acted (however misguidedly he did so) intending to protect Penelope and when the situation escalated, he was willing to lie to his family and pay a fortune to keep her safe.

And much to Portia’s surprise, he took accountability for his part in making things worse when he could have blamed everything on Penelope.

Then Colin supported Penelope’s choice about how to handle the LW situation and when she revealed herself to the ton.

When Penelope offered him an annulment to free himself of association with Lady Whistledown, he insisted he was lucky just to be with her because he loved her.

Then Colin danced with Penelope, clearly sending the message to the ton that he loved and supported his wife. Lady Whistledown did not trap him nor would he be turning his back on her. This was our first glimpse of Colin “My Wife” Bridgerton.

Colin gave Penelope a son, and the Featherington estate the heir they so desperately needed, and Colin will no doubt raise her grandson to be a man of honor, elevating the formerly mocked and disrespected Featherington family to a level of respectability on par with the Bridgertons.

As if that weren’t enough, Colin continues to support Penelope as a wife and mother, encouraging her passion for writing/working.

That Bridgerton neighbor boy single-handedly made his mother-in-law, a justifiably jaded cynic, believe in love.

I cannot wait to see their relationship in future seasons.

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in a Bottle - Chapter 4

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

ANGST, very bad self image, some sort of non graphic self-harm (if you squint), Rhys is kinda an asshole, vomiting

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

There wasn’t so much as a scratch on his son. 

Not a hair on his head was harmed. 

Nothing. 

Feyre cleaned him with shaky hands, running a rag wet with warm water over his skin. Nyx was babbling in response, shaken but clearly…alright. 

Nyx. His son. 

The sudden weight that was lifted off Rhys' shoulders, as he crossed the room in three long strides...it felt like he could breathe again…as he pressed a kiss to Nyx’s head breathing in that scent that was unmistakenly his and then doing the same with Feyre. 

Her scent was thick with misery, shaking against him…Lilac and Pears, usually so perfect...

“Eira’s blood is all over him,” Feyre whispered. “I’ll wipe it off and I just find more.” 

Elain was sitting across from them, silently drinking tea, eyes concentrating on something far away. He wondered if she saw anything…any vision at all? But she didn't say anything. 

Feyre hung onto his hand and he cast out his mind, feeling Madja’s determination, as she…she tried to…

Save her. 

Save her from dying because she had thrown her own body between death and his son. 

For years, Rhys had believed the second-born Archeron sister to be... 

She had just been there. 

Existed in his periphery. 

She had been the only one who had at least tried to make Feyre’s life easier, the one who had cooked and cleaned and hacked up wood and washed the blood out of Feyre’s clothing and mended it when she had taken a tumble…Eira had at least tried. He still didn’t think that it had been enough but she had that going for her. 

Privately, Rhys had thought that the only thing that was fierce about Eira Archeron was her ability to love. 

The one and only time she had outright argued with any of them… had been about her sister… about Nesta and their intervention. 

She had argued harshly and fiercely about how they had no right to do this, about how it wasn’t fair…about how she would pay back that money if it meant that they would leave Nesta in peace. 

It had not only surprised him but also Amren and even Feyre…and even when they hadn’t listened to her…

It didn’t matter what Nesta threw at her head, her sister was still there every week, waiting for him to bring her up to the House of Wind. 

Every week. Like a clockwork, she had been there. 

Rhys easily admitted that he hadn’t been particularly understanding to her at that time.

And now, that ability to love had been…it was going to be the one thing killing her, wouldn’t it?

He hadn’t said it. He had only said that it looked bad…but he could feel how Madja was slowly reaching the limits of what she could do for her. 

Everything that was…

Eira Archeron, the one cauldron-born sister with no great ability. The one that had seemingly adapted well enough to being fae…never complained, never said anything. If she had suffered, she had done so silently. 

The quiet one, the one that liked the background…the one that had pined away silently over his brother, when her twin sister had been the object of his desires. 

Rhys had half expected that to end in a brawl, but once again…Eira hadn’t…nothing had been said. She had been willing to silently pine away.  

And then the mating bond had snapped for Az and that had been…

Quite frankly, the last fucking thing Rhys had expected. 

Every…every other female would have somehow made more sense in his mind. 

“Where’s she?” Nesta stormed into the room, Cassian hot on her heels. 

“Upstairs,“ Feyre answered. “Nesta, let Madja work,” his mate tried but Nesta fixed her with one look. 

“She’s our sister. If she dies, I am not letting her die alone!” Nesta snapped out, stomping upstairs. 

And that was that. 

Nobody tried to stop her. 

“She won’t die. It’s Eira,” Elain said, her voice strangely detached. Like that was written in stone, with all the trust in the world and Rhys wished, he had some of her confidence. Nobody else had it. 

Mor sat on one chair, knees hugged to her chest. His normally always so bright, colourful cousin curled together in one miserable ball. Feyre shook next to him and he reached out for her hand, gently squeezing it, before he let her go. 

He could feel the very foundations of his brother's mental shields wobble. 

His eyes snapped to Azriel.

To Azriel who stood there, hands still covered in Eira‘s blood, red streaks on scarred skin. 

Outwardly there was only a flurry of shadows trailing around him, worriedly. No other signs. 

But his eyes…his stare was empty. 

*Cassian. Don’t let him leave your sight,* he told his other brother sharply, mind to mind. *And try and get him to clean his hands,* he added as an afterthought. Maybe that…Maybe that would help…maybe…

*Rhys,* Caddian whispered into his mind. *If she dies…I don’t know if we’ll be enough.* Cassian didn’t say anything that Rhys wasn’t thinking. Nothing that he wasn’t dreading. *You know how he…he spent centuries waiting. He never talks about it but we both know how much he wanted a mate. How much he just wants to be loved…and…*

And the mating bond had just snapped. And if Rhys hadn’t pushed for Azriel to wait, they wouldn't even be in this fucking situation. 

Azriel’s mate’s blood…Feyre’s sister’s blood…Eira’s blood…it was on his hands. On Rhys’ hands. 

*I know.*

*If she dies, I don’t know what he’ll do.*

Neither did Rhys. 

“Madja is the best. If anybody can save her it will be her,” Cassian said aloud, probably for Azriel’s benefit, crossing over to Az, gently reaching out to touch their brother’s shoulder. “Come on, we’ll get you cleaned up,” he said quietly, gently pushing Azriel from the room, probably in search of a bathroom. 

Rhys pressed a kiss to Nyx's head, who was looking around the room wide-eyed, not understanding a thing what was going on. There seemed to be no sign of their son being exhausted from the magic he had expelled. Nothing. 

A problem for another day maybe. As long as he seemed fine... 

 “Mor?” he said quietly as he kneeled at his cousin’s side, reaching out for her, hand hovering…Mor looked at him, brown eyes wide and tearful. 

His cousin. He had killed Keir with nary a thought. 

“I never thought he would…do this,” Mor whispered, reaching out for his hand. “I thought…”

There was a tiny part of Mor that still believed that her family could change…that had still loved her parents…hadn’t wanted them dead. And he had taken that from her. 

“I know,” he whispered and she squeezed his hand in response. 

*I am sorry…* he said nonetheless in her mind and he could feel her surprise and then her acceptance. Mor wasn’t angry. Even when she had every right to it...Right to hate him for killing her father, even when Rhys had every right to do that as well. Hate could fester easily under such circumstances. 

*I am not,* Mor disagreed. *He got what he had coming…* A pause. Then she pushed a memory at him…Eira’s still body…the grey pallor of her usually pale skin…the way she had been limb and cold in Mor’s grasped as she had winnowed them to the River House and then fetched Madja…all in the span of seconds.

The blood…the dagger to the heart she had taken…Azriel’s magic pulsing around her, the shadows that hovered…all of it…it looked like the scene out of a nightmare. 

*It’s not looking good, Rhys,* Mor whispered. *Az doesn’t deserve this.* No, he didn’t. But neither did the female laying up there and fighting for her fucking life. 

All of it just because of…

He had pulled it all out of Keir’s head before he had killed him. The whole hare-brained plan, if one could call it like that. 

Nyx’s wings an obvious sign of his “half-breed” status…and with that, not something that Keir could stomach the thought of bowing to one day. Kill the heir, destablise the whole Night Court…Hope that Rhys could be baited. And then Keir would have made his move and the Night Court would be reunited under the glorious reign of Keir. 

And because of that, of the obsession of one male…his son had nearly died. 

He looked up sharply as he heard the steps. “Madja.” 

“I removed the knife. I stopped the bleeding,” Madja said, the dress she wore blood-flecked. “I did all I could.” 

He didn’t doubt that. The question was just if that was going to be enough. 

“She’s alive. For the moment,” Madja cautioned them quietly. “She’s…She’s fighting. The poison they dunked that knife in was…particularly nasty. It stops the blood from clotting…makes the pain feel much worse than it is.” 

She didn’t need to spell it out. It was torture. “Is…Is there an antidote?” Feyre asked, her voice shaking. 

“None that her body would be able to absorb without killing her right now,” Madja said carefully. “She’s…magically exhausted. She expelled…most, if not all of her magic.” 

“She never had much in the first place,” Mor choked out. “She probably tried to winnow and…”

And that hadn’t worked. It had failed. 

“What…what can we do?” Feyre asked, her voice shaking. 

“We wait,” Madja answered calmly. “I gave her every potion I could…I healed as much as I could… If she pulls through the night…I would be cautiously optimistic,” she told Feyre, her voice gentle. “Infection has already set in. She’s feverish. Lady Nesta is with her.“

And Rhys didn’t doubt for one moment that Nesta would stay right at her side…she was stubborn like that. 

“Is she…is she in pain?” Feyre asked, her hands tightening on Nyx, who was sucking on his thumb. 

Madja hummed softly. “She will be for days, High Lady,” she told Feyre, not unkindly. 

*Rhys…Could you…Please, I don’t want her to be in pain. Even if she doesn’t…even if she dies, Eira shouldn’t be in pain.* 

No, she shouldn’t be. 

*Of course, Feyre Darling,* he agreed quietly. As much pain as he could take from her, he would. 

“Mor?” he said aloud, and his cousin looked up, unfurling from her little ball. 

“I’ll deal with the fallout,“ she said, her voice only shaking around the edges. “Amren and I will manage." 

“She should be back soon,” he said aloud.  *She’s dealing with…the carnage,* he said into Mor’s mind and his cousin just nodded. It was better that…most people didn’t know what had happened...they didn't need to deal with the bodies…especially when they themselves didn’t even know how it had happened yet. 

Instead, he pressed another kiss to Nyx’s head and then, even when he didn’t want to leave him…he walked up the stairs to Eira’s bedroom. 

She had taken over a room on the third level of the house…away from both the master bedroom and also the room Elain had chosen, overlooking the garden. 

Eira’s room overlooked the River. It wasn’t the biggest bedroom either, with sloped ceilings that made it look smaller than it was…and the usual furniture that Feyre had picked for every room in the house. 

He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but maybe he had expected the room to have gotten a little bit more personality in the over 2 years that Eira now lived there. Something. Anything. 

The only thing that made it obvious that it was her room, was a box of thread spilling over her desk. 

Eira was on her bed and Nesta was sitting at her side, glaring at him as he opened the door. “Out!” Nesta snapped. “I do not want you to see her like that.” 

“See her like what?” Rhys asked, eyebrows climbing into his hairline. Half dead? Her skin was still grey, breath raspy…as he stepped closer to the bed, he could see the sweat beading at her hairline…

Nesta glared at him as she tugged a sheet around her, covering her.  

“In a state of undress,” she told him sharply. 

He blinked twice. 

He really couldn’t care less about it. Besides, she was still wearing a dress, even when Madja had cut it open to make it easier for her to reach the wound on her ribcage. And he had seen her in less…when she had been thrown into that cauldron and spat out again, the white cotton of her nightgown had become translucent. 

He hadn’t cared, because the only female he even wanted to look at anymore was Feyre, and her sisters were his now…

“I really don’t care about that,” he assured Nesta, who just glared at him. 

“She would,” Nesta spat out. “Eira would care, Rhysand.  She saved your son at the expense of her own life. The least you could give her is some fucking respect and her modesty.”

Right. 

“Is there ever going to come a day where you don’t expect the worst of me?” he asked with a sigh, moving to her desk to pick up the chair and bring it over to her side. 

He watched with surprise as shadows started to cover her body…becoming nearly solid in places, obscuring her torso from view, only leaving out her face and her limbs. 

Nesta stared at them for a moment but then seemed to think that they couldn’t possibly make it any worse. 

“Why are you here?” Nesta demanded from him. 

“I am a daemati,” he gave back drily as he sat down in the chair, mustering Eira’s prone form. Fine-boned, pale skin with a smattering of freckles just like Feyre. Not fragile, but…delicate.

“You are not poking around in her head,” Nesta seethed. 

“Even if it would take away her pain?” he offered lightly. Nesta harrumphed.  

“Then what the fuck are you waiting for?”

 Rhys took that as the only agreement he was going to get.

He reached out with his mind, expecting to carefully brush up against Eira’s mental shields…It seemed to be the only magical thing that she had easily caught on to. 

He had always left her mind alone, no reason why he should delve any deeper than surface sweeps he did on instincts…not when Eira’s mind had always been…soft in a sense. More worried about how other people felt than herself…

Now…unconscious. Ravaged by fever…there were no shields. Her mind bloomed under his touch, suddenly, harshly... She dragged him inside and he tumbled right into her memories. 

One quick snapshot after another. So quickly…too quickly. 

***

Wooden Ruler to her knuckles. Pain biting. Hard. Crying. Do not lie to me. 

She hadn’t lied. She hadn’t. The letters had truly changed places in front of her. She couldn’t help it. She couldn’t…

***

A hand grasping underneath her chin, so tightly that it hurt. Steel grey eyes. Her eyes. She inherited them. 

Your resemblance to a mole rat is rather unfortunate. But don’t worry. I am sure you’ll make a proper wife someday. To a farmer maybe. 

That was alright. She could be a wife. She wanted to be a wife. Even to a farmer…she…She wanted to be a wife. She wanted to have children…a baby…

***

Molten ore being poured into her veins. Humanity burned away. Fury. So much fury poured over her body. Your sister stole from me… And she paid the price. In blood and pain and drowning. 

Heat and Cold and burning alive and freezing…

She hit the floor, her whole body not her own…not anymore. 

Not her body. Never her body. Never again. 

***

Again. And Again. And Again. 

Back and Forth and Back and Forth and Back and Forth…

A quiet moan as she pulled at her ears, too long, too pointy, not hers, not hers, she never wanted these, but they were there sprouting from her head and they heard too much and she saw too much and she…

Back and Forth and Back and Forth…Iron taste in her mouth, too sharp teeth biting into her lip. 

She didn’t care. 

Back and Forth and Back and Forth and Back and Forth and maybe she would fall asleep and she wouldn’t hear heartbeats and she wouldn’t hear voices and she wouldn’t be heard, sat in that closet, in that tight and dark little place, because everything else felt too much. 

Back and Forth and Back and Forth and Back and Forth…

***

Peace. For the first time…in a long time. Peace. Just her hands, stitching on that button, one after another…the notes building in her throat. A children’s lullaby. Feyre had loved it. 

Stop your screeching, girl, I am getting a headache.

Said the scary one. 

The words stuck in her throat. 

She didn’t do it again. Not where anybody could hear it. 

She should make no noises. She wasn’t allowed to make any noises. Not allowed to take up any space. 

***

Screams muffled by pillows, shaking and crying and weeping and she didn’t know how she could stand it…Griefing and crying and she wanted to shout and scream and she couldn’t…she couldn’t…she couldn’t…

***

She was a failure. She always was a failure. Never enough. It didn’t matter what she did. She was dumb, she was stupid, she wasn’t good enough. 

As far as cauldron-made goes, she is pretty much useless.

So pretty. So beautiful…so blonde, with golden hair. So powerful. Everything she wasn’t. 

Everything she shouldn’t be.

Laughter. 

It was the truth. She was useless. 

She couldn’t do what came so easily to everybody else. No winnowing. No anything. Not good enough. Regardless of how hard she tried. 

***

Please. Please. Please. Just once…Just one time…

Garden. Wrought Iron table and chairs…broad wings sunning in the sun…a quiet conversation…a male’s laugh. So beautiful…so handsome…so kind. 

Her sister turned…he smiled. 

So beautiful.  So handsome. So kind. Hazel green eyes…dark curly hair. 

She wanted him. 

But he didn’t want her. 

So in love. With Elain. 

Not with her. Never with her. Never would be. 

Nobody would ever want her. He wouldn’t ever want her. 

***

Her sister. Her sister. Regardless of anything. 

Don’t come crying to me if she bites off your head. I warned you.

She wouldn’t. Her tears didn’t matter. To anybody. She would deal with them herself. It was her own fault. She didn’t listen. 

She couldn’t listen. Her sister. Her sister. 

Her fault. 

She should know better. 

***

Don’t you have anything better to do? Like make another ugly dress?

Silver embroidery floss, red silk. 

Black thread. 

Little hands painstakingly stitching, only for the dress to be just as painstakingly wrapped up and put in the chest at the bottom of her bed, never to be seen again. It was better that way. 

Never would be worn by a bride on her wedding day…or a Valkyrie on the day of her mating ceremony. 

Ugly Dresses. Not pretty enough. Not good enough. Never good enough. Not for Nesta. Not for anybody. 

***

Her own fault. Shouldn’t eavesdrop. They never heard anything good about themselves. 

We don’t need Eira. Quite frankly, it’s better if she doesn’t go. Elain is the prettier one, anyway.

Nobody needed her. Better if she didn’t bother anybody. Elain was prettier. Always was. Always would be. She was the ugly one. She wasn’t needed. She was worth nothing. 

***

Delicate tea. Ginger Cookies. Her sister’s favourite. Sun outside in the garden, dancing on the wooden floor…

Eira, find somewhere else to be. I really have more important things to do. 

Of course. She was a bother. She shouldn’t. She should know better. Others were more important. Shouldn’t bother. Stupid. Stupid. STUPID. 

***

Quiet. Don’t bother anybody. Make yourself useful. 

Nyx. 

So beautiful. 

Just like Feyre. 

Sing. Softly. So nobody could hear. 

So nobody… just Nyx. Hers and not hers. Feyre’s. 

Envy. So much envy, because she wished she had what her sister had. She wished she had a husband and a baby and somebody that loved her. 

Somebody who didn’t hate her. But she didn’t. 

So she sang. Another human lullaby for the future High Lord. 

Again and Again and again and her broken heart broke even more. 

***

Blue velvet box. Winter solstice. 

Pearl Earrings. Beautiful. So beautiful. 

But for her…for her useless. Her ears weren’t pierced. 

He hadn’t even noticed that. It hurt worse than even his smiles at her sister. 

He had brought her a gift…but it wasn’t a gift that she could use, no gift that…no gift that was special to her…no thought behind it… just an item on a list to be checked off. 

Something for Eira. Beautiful and Impersonal and…

No attention paid to her. 

She didn’t deserve his attention. Never. 

But she wanted it. Just once…

Please, Please, Please, Please…

***

She wanted to help. She always wanted to help. 

At least I found two males in my life willing to marry me. The one you have your ridiculous puppy crush on is never even going to look at you!

Her sister. Her sister. Her sister. 

She wished to cease existing. She didn’t care anymore. 

She could disappear and she would do them all a favour. 

Especially him. 

***

Fledgeling happiness shattered like a glass bottle on a stone floor. 

Could you at least try to get over him? It’s…it would be better for…this court.

Her feelings. An inconvenience. Should get over them. Now. Before they make trouble. 

Even when she never told anybody. Kept that secret close to her heart….

Of course. She would never tell him. 

She would never say a word. She would close her eyes and wish herself far, far away. 

Better that way. 

Wasn’t good enough. Useless. Stupid to think that she had a chance. She didn’t. Ugly. Not Enough. Worthless. Do not take up space. Melt into the background. Cease to exist. 

***

Rhys snapped himself from her brain, and then promptly wretched, vomiting onto the floor. 

[koiiiji]

threats

summary ; no-one dead au, Gapryong love his kids, him and Baekho thinks their youngster have crush on Jinyong’s daughter, while he being delulu and calls their sons wolves (Jinyong secretly cheering for Jake)

tw ; none, pure fluff and actually happy Kim family

pairing(?) ; kid!jake kim x kid!reader(?)

The celebration at Gapryong Kim's mansion was in full swing,the occasion was significant - his birthday - the air thick with laughter, clinking glasses, and the warm glow of camaraderie. The adults, slightly tipsy and buoyed by nostalgia, sat around the large dining table and in clusters throughout the spacious living room.

Jake, with his boundless energy and cheerful demeanor, was busy running around the garden, making jokes and laughing. Jerry, more reserved and stoic, watched his friends with a calm smile, while you, being a bit moody yet generally happy, played nearby. Gitae, Gapryon’s oldest son, sat on the steps, brooding and occasionally rolling his eyes at the younger kids' antics. He was in that difficult transitional age where he felt misunderstood and often annoyed by everyone around him.

Inside the mansion, Gapryon and his right-hand men, Jinyong Park, Baekho Kwon, and other members of Gapryong's fist enjoyed the party. Gapryong, a fierce yet caring leader, laughed heartily with his friends, while Jinyong kept an eye on whole buster - trying to mesmorise warm moments with his dearest friends.

Suddenly, the door to the grand room burst open, and you ran in, tears streaming down your face. The room fell silent as you launched yourself into your father’s arms, sobbing.

"Daddy! Daddy!" - you cried, clutching Jinyong’s shirt tightly. - "Jake is threatening my life!"

The adults in the room exchanged confused glances. Jake, the sunny and optimistic boy, threatening someone? It seemed impossible. Moments later, Jake stumbled into the room, his face flushed and red as a tomato. His heart raced with a mix of embarrassment and panic, as he feared what you might say. - "I'm not threatening her life!" he exclaimed, clearly flustered. The room erupted in confusion at the sight of the two young children so passionately arguing. Jinyong petted your hair gently, trying to soothe you.

"What happened, sweetheart?" - he asked softly. You wiped your tears and took a deep breath, ready to present your case. - "Daddy, Jake said he wants to MARRY ME! Can you imagine?!"

Laughter filled the room as Jake, embarrassed and blushing even harder, protested, - "No, I don't!"

"Yes, you do!" - you insisted, sticking your tongue out and pointing at him with your finger. But Jake kept arguing and room filled with child's screams of "Yes" and "No"

"I'm gonna marry only my daddy!"

Gapryong, who loved you as his own child, chuckled and decided to tease you a bit. - "But doesn’t your dad already marry your mother, huh?"

You froze, shock and confusion crossing your face as you turned to look at your father, your eyes welling up with fresh tears. Gripping his shirt tightly, you asked, - "Daddy?... Is that true?" - Jinyong, trying to contain his laughter, nodded. - "You know, baby, your mother still needs a husband, right?"

"Traitor! Daddy is a traitor!" you declared dramatically, eliciting more laughter from the adults. Jake watched you, feeling a pang of resentment and a deeper, unspoken feeling. He had a childish crush on you, and though he didn't fully understand it, he knew he liked you a lot. The idea of marrying you seemed natural to him, even if he was too young to grasp its full meaning. Determined and full of childish resolve, you slid off your father’s lap and marched over to Gapryong. "Then... then..." - you stammered, trying to form your next plan. Gapryong, enjoying the moment, leaned down to your level. - "Then what, little one?" - he asked with a warm smile.

"Then I'll marry... Uncle Gapryong!" - you announced, much to the amusement of everyone present. Gapryong laughed heartily and scooped you up in his arms. - "Well, I'm married as well! And I’m afraid I’m too old for you, sweetheart."

As everyone in the room tried to hold back their laughter, you pouted, realizing your grand declaration might not work out as planned. But the genuine affection and warmth from your family made the moment one to remember. Jake, still blushing, sighed with relief and muttered to his father, - "See? I wasn't threatening her life..."

The room erupted in laughter again, the adults and children alike sharing in the joy and absurdity of the moment, making it a birthday celebration to remember. Just as the laughter began to die down, Gapryong, still smiling, said, - "How about Jake anyway, huh?"

You shook your head vigorously. - "NO!! Uncle Gapryong, don't you understand that Jake spends all his time with Jerry! And they're always hugging!" - You crossed your arms defiantly, misinterpreting their fights as affectionate embraces - "I don't want my husband to hug someone else!" - More laughter filled the room, but you remained serious, big tears still streaming down your cheeks. You jumped off Gapryong's lap, desperately looking for a solution. Your eyes landed on Gitae, who was brooding in the corner of the room. With sudden determination, you ran to him and clung to his neck.

"Then I'm gonna marry brother Gitae!" - you announced with a bright, triumphant smile. It seems that a clear vein of discontent appeared on your father’s forehead and with an innocent smile the glass in his bare hand burst with a crash.

Gitae, caught off guard and visibly annoyed, was about to complain, but you turned to him with the most serious face, as if you were already an adult. - "One wrong word and I will say that I saw how you smoked this morning." - Gitae swallowed hard. It wasn't that he was scared of his mother's reprimands about smoking, but he simply nodded, not wanting to cause more drama. - "Whatever, kid," - he muttered.

Jinyong, not a big fan of Gitae, still with his eyes closed and that innocent smile said, - "I will apply for divorce next morning, hun. Come back to daddy."

bonus :

The adults had announced their departure a thousand times, each attempt to leave thwarted by another round of drinks, another shared memory, or another joke that sent the room into peals of laughter. Gapryong, at the center of it all, held court with his booming laugh and sharp wit, Jinyong Park matched his pace drink for drink. The room was alive with stories of old scars and forgotten battles, of triumphs and losses, each tale punctuated by hearty toasts and the occasional rowdy song.

In the midst of the adults' revelry, the children, worn out from their own antics, began to succumb to sleep. Jake had run out of steam, Jerry yawned widely before finally giving in, and you, found your eyelids growing heavier by the minute.

As the night deepened, the adults continued to assure one another that they really should be heading home, only to be drawn back into another round of drinks or another hilarious story.

Unbeknownst to the adults, the three of you sneaked out of main room to try to distract yourselves from the impending sleep and fatigue, and decided to play hide and seek. As the hours ticked by, the party showed no signs of waning. But eventually, the night began to wind down, and the adults started to gather their belongings, preparing to leave.

"Alright, everyone, I think it's really time to go now," - Gapryong announced, albeit somewhat reluctantly. His words were met with nods and murmurs of agreement, though none made a move to actually stand up. Jinyong glanced around, suddenly realizing that the children were nowhere in sight. - "Where are the kids?" - he asked, a note of concern creeping into his voice. The adults exchanged worried glances and began to search the mansion, calling out names and checking every room. The once noisy and cheerful group was now a flurry of anxious activity, peering behind furniture, checking under tables, and opening every door they came across.

"Jake? Jerry? Where are you?" - Gapryong called out, his deep voice echoing through the halls.

It was Baekho Kwon who finally stumbled upon the scene. Opening the closet door, he found the three of you nestled among the fallen clothes, fast asleep. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight before calling out to the others.

"I found them! They're in here!"

The adults rushed over, relief washing over their faces as they took in the adorable sight. You, still peacefully asleep on Jake's hand, throwing your head back and drooling on his arm, while he drooling on your shoulder and his arm protectively around you, Jerry's head rested gently on your lap, his calm, steady breathing a testament to the deep sleep only children could achieve. Gapryong smiled warmly at the sight. - "Well, would you look at that," - he said softly, his voice full of affection. - "Looks like they had their own little adventure."

Jinyong knelt down, carefully scooping you into his arms, not wanting to disturb your sleep. - "Come on, sweetheart," - he whispered, - "let's get you home."

Gapryong and Baekho followed suit, gently lifting Jake and Jerry, who barely stirred, their exhaustion too great to be roused by the movement.

loool i love annoyed daddy Jinyoung so much!!

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

Just here to beg for a crumb-- just a little blurb about Marcus as a new dad? All those swimming lessons would have paid off before long, right?

⤷ Credits: Pinterest

Marcus Acacius x Wife!reader | WC : 1.7k | Proof read : YES | Navigation | Notifications | asks : OPEN | Under a False Alter

Warnings: DUB-CON (Forced/Arranged marriage), Birth, insecurity, vulnerability, fluffy romance vibes with a hint of the reality of parenthood

A/n : Sorry this took a second but i hope you enjoy

"MOTHERFUCKER!" you shouted, your voice echoing through the chamber as you clung to Marcus' arms, your grip iron-tight. Midwives swarmed around you, their practiced hands moving swiftly, their voices a blend of soothing reassurances and urgent instructions.

"It'll be alright, love," Marcus murmured, his voice steady despite the worry etched across his face. He wiped the sweat from your brow, his touch tender. "You're the strongest person I know."

"Strongest person you know?" you snapped, glaring at him through the pain. "If you had just kept your hands to yourself, we wouldn't be in this mess, Marcus!"

Marcus chuckled softly, though there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. "I recall you being quite persuasive that night."

"Don't you dare put this on me!" you retorted, another contraction making you wince. "If you had any self-control, I wouldn't be screaming my head off right now!"

"Almost there," the head midwife announced, her voice cutting through the haze of pain. "I can see the head."

Marcus looked at you, his eyes shining with pride and awe. "Just a little more, darling. You're so close."

"Close to killing you," you muttered, though your grip on his hand tightened, drawing strength from his presence.

With a final, primal scream, you pushed with all your might. The room seemed to hold its breath as the midwives sprang into action. And then, a new sound filled the air—the cries of your newborn son.

Tears streamed down your face as the midwife placed the tiny, wriggling bundle in your arms. You looked down at him, your heart swelling with a love so fierce it took your breath away. Marcus leaned in, his arm around your shoulders, his eyes filled with wonder as he gazed at his son.

"He's perfect," Marcus whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "You did it."

"We did it," you corrected, meeting his gaze. "And you owe me a lifetime of back massages and foot rubs for this."

Marcus laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Deal. And I'll start by being the best father I can be."

As you held your son close, feeling the warmth of his tiny body against your chest, you knew that whatever the future held, you and Marcus would face it together. This was the beginning of a new chapter, one filled with hope, love, and endless possibilities.

The midwives busied themselves around you, cleaning up and murmuring congratulations. You glanced at Marcus, who was still watching you with that same awestruck expression.

"Stop looking at me like that," you teased, though there was no heat in your words. "I look like I've been through a war."

"A beautiful war," Marcus said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "And you, my love, are a warrior."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you replied, though you couldn't suppress a smile. "But I suppose I can let you off the hook. Just this once."

"How generous of you," Marcus said with a grin, leaning in to kiss you. "I love you."

"And I love you," you whispered, feeling a deep contentment settle over you. "Even if you did get us into this mess."

"Well, it's a beautiful mess," he said, looking down at your son. "And I wouldn't change a thing."

"Marcus, you can't hold him like that," you said, trying to suppress a laugh as you watched him awkwardly maneuver the tiny, squirming baby in his arms. Your son wriggled, his small fists waving in the air, clearly unimpressed with his father's attempt.

"I'm trying!" Marcus replied, a mix of frustration and amusement in his voice. "He's just so slippery."

You stepped in, gently guiding Marcus' hands to support the baby's head and body correctly. "There, like this. See? He's not that hard to handle."

"Easy for you to say," Marcus muttered, though a smile tugged at his lips. "You've always had a way with handling difficult creatures."

"Are you calling our son a creature?" you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"Only the cutest one I've ever seen," Marcus said, his eyes softening as he looked down at the baby. "Alright, little man, let's get you clean."

You carefully poured warm water over your son's tiny body, making sure the temperature was just right. The baby let out a small, surprised squeak, his eyes widening at the sensation. Marcus chuckled, his large hands gentle as he helped you wash the baby’s delicate skin.

"He's not so bad once you get the hang of it," Marcus said, his voice filled with wonder. "Look at him. He's so small, but so perfect."

"Just like his father," you teased, running a soft cloth over the baby's head.

Marcus grinned, his eyes twinkling. "You think I'm perfect?"

"In your dreams," you replied, but there was no denying the affection in your tone.

As you continued the bath, Marcus took over washing the baby's tiny feet, his fingers incredibly gentle. "These little toes," he mused, "I can't believe something so small can be so perfect."

"Careful, Marcus," you warned with a laugh. "You're turning into a sentimental sap."

"Too late," he admitted, looking at you with a smile that made your heart melt. "This little guy has completely undone me."

The days and nights blurred together as you adjusted to the whirlwind of new parenthood. There were moments of sheer joy and wonder as you watched your son grow and change, his tiny features becoming more defined with each passing day. But there were also moments of exhaustion and doubt, when the weight of responsibility felt overwhelming. Your pregnancy had been a mix of excitement and anxiety, each milestone bringing a new set of emotions. Now, holding your baby in your arms, you felt an intense love that was both beautiful and terrifying.

You marveled at his tiny hands and the way his fingers would curl around yours, his innocent eyes gazing up at you with trust. Those were the moments that made everything worth it, when the world seemed to stand still and all that mattered was the bond between you and your son. But there were also nights when he would cry inconsolably, and no amount of rocking or soothing seemed to help.

One particularly long night, as the baby cried relentlessly, you found yourself on the brink of tears. The exhaustion was bone-deep, and the frustration of not being able to calm him gnawed at you. "Why won't he stop crying?" you whispered, your voice trembling with fatigue and despair. You rocked him gently, trying every trick you knew, but nothing seemed to work.

Marcus appeared in the doorway, his hair tousled from sleep, his eyes instantly alert with concern. He had been your rock throughout the pregnancy and now, in the chaos of new parenthood, his support was unwavering. "Hey, hey," he said softly, crossing the room to you. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," you admitted, your voice breaking. "I feel like I'm doing everything wrong. I can't even calm my own baby."

Marcus took the baby from your arms with practiced ease, his strong hands cradling the tiny body. He began to hum a gentle tune, swaying back and forth as he did. Almost immediately, the baby's cries began to quiet, his small body relaxing against Marcus' chest. Watching them, a mix of relief and sadness washed over you. Relief that your baby was finally calm, and sadness that you couldn't seem to provide the same comfort.

"See?" Marcus murmured, looking at you with a reassuring smile. "Sometimes, he just needs a change of scenery."

You sank into a nearby chair, the tears finally spilling over. "I feel like such a failure," you confessed. "I love him so much, but I can't seem to get anything right."

"You're not a failure," Marcus said firmly, kneeling beside you, still holding the now calm baby. "You're an amazing mother. This is hard—it's supposed to be hard. But we're doing it together, remember?"

You nodded, wiping your tears away. The weight of his words began to soothe the ache in your chest. "I just... I want to be perfect for him."

"And you are," Marcus insisted. "Look at him. He's healthy, he's loved, and he's got the best mom in the world."

A small smile tugged at your lips as you reached out to touch your son's cheek. His skin was soft and warm, and you felt a rush of love so powerful it almost hurt. "I guess I just need to take it one day at a time."

"Exactly," Marcus agreed, standing up and offering you a hand. "Now, let's get you both back to bed. I'll take the next shift."

You allowed Marcus to help you up, feeling the fatigue in your bones but also a renewed sense of hope. The journey of parenthood was far from easy, but with Marcus by your side, you knew you could face the challenges ahead.

“He’s growing up so fast,” you whispered, a bittersweet ache in your voice as you took in the sight of your little boy, so full of life and promise.

Marcus nodded, his voice a gentle balm. “He is. But look at him—strong and happy. We’ve done well, haven’t we?”

You leaned back into his embrace, savoring the warmth of his presence. “It’s been an incredible year,” you agreed softly.

Marcus pressed a tender kiss to your cheek, a playful glint lighting up his eyes. “How about we make this weekend even more special? A trip to the sea, just the two of us.”

You turned to face him, excitement mingling with a hint of anxiety. “But what about our son? I don’t want to leave him.”

“Don’t worry,” Marcus reassured you, his voice soothing. “I’ve spoken with your mother. She’s thrilled to have him for the weekend. We’ll be close by if anything happens.”

You hesitated, biting your lip as you considered his words. The thought of time alone with Marcus was enticing. “It would be nice to spend time together,” you admitted.

Marcus smiled, the warmth in his eyes making your heart flutter. “We deserve a little break. And perhaps… we could start thinking about giving him a little brother or sister.”

[deliciousangelfestival]

Luxury and Lessons - Bucky Barnes

Character: concierge!Bucky x heiress!female reader

Warning: A lot of curse words.

Summary: A spoiled heiress is sent to work at her family’s luxury hotel, where she clashes with Bucky, the handsome and strict manager who is fiercely dedicated to the hotel’s success.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 ,-

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Birds chirped softly in the background, their melodies blending with the gentle rustle of leaves in the warm breeze. The sun shone brightly over the Serene Sanctuary Resort, casting dappled shadows on the vibrant array of flowers lining the walkways.

Their petals swayed lightly, adding a touch of color to the already picturesque surroundings. In the distance, a crisp thwack sounded as someone struck a tennis ball, the rhythm of play harmonizing with the resort's tranquil atmosphere.

Serene Sanctuary Resort was known among high-budget travelers as a luxurious escape, a place where every detail was meticulously curated for comfort and elegance.

At the heart of this paradise stood a man adjusting his suit with precise movements. The suit, clearly tailored to perfection, hugged his frame with a classic elegance that spoke of both sophistication and tradition.

His name was James Barnes, but everyone called him Bucky. His badge gleamed on his chest, catching the light just so, perfectly straight and centered.

Bucky was known for his exacting standards. His office was a testament to his need for order—each object had its place, not a single pen out of line. Even the slightest tilt in a flower vase did not escape his notice, and he promptly adjusted it with a practiced hand, ensuring that everything was just as it should be.

His colleagues respected his attention to detail and the unwavering precision he brought to his role as hotel manager. For everyone who worked there, James "Bucky" Barnes was a familiar presence, the very essence of the resort's commitment to excellence.

Bucky Barnes had a polished appearance that perfectly matched the elegance of the Serene Sanctuary Resort. His dark hair was neatly combed, and his sharp blue eyes scanned his surroundings with a practiced gaze that missed nothing.

His suit, tailored to fit him like a second skin, spoke of classic sophistication, and his polished shoes reflected the light as he moved with a quiet confidence. He wore the hotel's badge with pride, a small but gleaming symbol of his dedication.

To him, the resort was more than a job; it was a labor of love. He took pride in its reputation and in every guest who walked through its doors.

Bucky walked through the lobby of the Serene Sanctuary Resort with a calm confidence that immediately put people at ease. His polished appearance and the way he carried himself radiated professionalism and warmth, making him the perfect face for the hotel.

As he approached the front desk, a couple waved enthusiastically. “Mr. Barnes! Good to see you again!” the woman called out, her face lighting up at the sight of him.

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson! Welcome back,” Bucky replied with a genuine smile. “How was your flight?”

“Smooth, thanks to your tip about avoiding the morning rush,” Mr. Thompson said, clearly grateful.

“I’m glad to hear it. We’ve got your favorite suite ready, and I’ve made sure the minibar is stocked with that Pinot Noir you love,” Bucky added with a wink.

The Thompsons beamed. “You always remember the little things, don’t you?” Mrs. Thompson said warmly.

“It’s my job to make sure your stay is perfect,” Bucky replied, his tone sincere. “Anything you need, just let me know.”

As he moved toward another guest, an older gentleman patted him on the shoulder. “Bucky! Good to see you, son. My usual room, I hope?”

Bucky nodded, a respectful smile on his face. “Of course, Mr. Martin. I’ve already sent up fresh flowers, just like you prefer.”

“You’re the best, Bucky,” Mr. Martin said with a chuckle. “Honestly, I come back to this place mostly because of you.”

Bucky laughed lightly, his eyes twinkling. “You’re too kind, Mr. Martin. But I’m happy to hear that. Your loyalty means a lot to us.”

As he continued to make his rounds, more guests greeted him by name, exchanging warm smiles and friendly banter. It was clear that Bucky had a unique ability to make every guest feel special, as if they were the only ones staying at the resort.

And in return, the guests adored him, many coming back year after year just to be welcomed by his familiar, reassuring presence.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over Bucky. He turned to see Steve Rogers, the hotel’s head of guest relations, standing with a serious expression. Steve was usually calm and composed, so the worry etched on his face instantly caught Bucky’s attention.

"I've got bad news," Steve said, his voice low.

“What is it?” Bucky asked, his brow furrowing.

"You've got to see this first," Steve replied, pulling out his phone and handing it to Bucky.

On the screen was a video of a woman, clearly intoxicated, slurring her words as she stumbled through a crowded party. "Whose gonna pay for all this?" a voice in the background asked, laughing.

The heiress grins broadly, waving her glass in the air. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” she says with a dismissive laugh. “I’ll just cut my employees' salaries to cover the cost! Let them eat cake, right?”

The group bursts into laughter, clearly finding the comment hilarious. The camera zooms in on the heiress, who’s now giggling uncontrollably, oblivious to the implications of what she just said.

“Yeah, yeah!” another friend chimes in, mockingly raising a toast. “To the hard-working folks who don’t get a break!”

The heiress rolls her eyes dramatically and raises her glass. “To the workers! May they always work hard… for me!” She bursts out laughing again, almost spilling her drink as she does.

The video cuts off abruptly, but not before capturing a few more drunken cheers and clinking glasses, leaving a bitter taste in the viewer’s mouth.

Bucky’s face tightened with anger as he scrolled through the video. “Little narcissist who puts herself above everyone else,” he muttered under his breath. He continued scrolling down, reading through the online comments:

"This is outrageous. The rich really don’t know what it’s like for us working-class people."

"How can someone be so out of touch? Does she think this is funny?"

"As someone who works at a hotel, this is infuriating. We work hard every day to make these places run smoothly, and this is the thanks we get? A pay cut to fund her parties? Unbelievable."

"Maybe if she spent a day in our shoes, she’d think twice before making fun of us. The ignorance is mind-blowing."

“She’s the sister of the hotel owner, right?” Bucky asked, looking up from the phone.

“Right,” Steve confirmed. “And she’s coming here.”

“Hiding?” Bucky guessed, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing.

“No,” Steve said, shaking his head, his expression turning even graver.

“Then what?”

🏨🏨🏨🏨🏨

The room was dark, the curtains drawn tightly to block out any hint of daylight. The air was thick with the stale scent of alcohol and the aftermath of a wild night.

Suddenly, the room was flooded with blinding light as someone forcefully yanked the curtains open. Sunlight poured in, stabbing through the darkness and landing squarely on the figure sprawled across the bed. The clock on the nightstand showed 11 a.m., but the person under the covers showed no signs of stirring.

"Wake up!" barked a voice filled with anger. It was Tom, head of Serene, the global luxury hotel chain. He stood by the window, glaring down at his sister, who was still buried under a pile of blankets.

You groaned, pulling the covers over your head to shield your eyes from the blinding light. "Leave me alone," you muttered, still drunk from the party last night, and slapped Tom’s hand away as he tried to pull the blanket off.

Tom's face twisted with frustration. "I'm going to fucking kill you with my own hands!" he snapped.

"What the hell are you so mad about?" you mumbled, slowly waking up, rubbing your eyes. "Did you forget to take your meds this morning?"

Tom's patience snapped. "Take out your damn phone and see for yourself," he shouted.

You sat up reluctantly, grabbing your phone from the bedside table. Your eyes widened as you saw hundreds of missed calls and countless notifications mentioning you on Instagram.

"Are you out fucking of your mind?" Tom yelled, pacing back and forth, his hands clenched into fists. "I just met the investors last night, then talking with the union about employee salaries, and now this? You're dragging the company’s name through the mud!"

You squinted at the screen, reading the news headlines. Your stomach sank. "Shit," you muttered, slapping your forehead. You remembered last night’s party, the alcohol, the recklessness. "Fine, call the PR team and have them handle it."

"Already did," Tom snapped, his voice dripping with exasperation. "Were you completely out of it last night? Did the drugs and alcohol fry your brain?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking at you with a mixture of disgust and disappointment. "And you stink," he added with a grimace.

Great. Your brother was really pissed. You could feel his anger radiating off him.

"This isn't just about me, or you, or our damn reputations," Tom continued, voice low but fierce. "You’ve jeopardized the whole company. If the royal family cancels their stay at our hotel because of this, that’s on you."

You rolled your eyes, still groggy. "Just drop it, okay? I made a mistake. Big deal. Everyone knows I'm a mess."

Since your parents died, Tom had taken over the Serene hotel business with remarkable responsibility. Meanwhile, you, the other heiress, had floundered. Used to a life of luxury and indulgence, you struggled with discipline and responsibility, leaving Tom to constantly clean up after you.

Your carefree attitude contrasted sharply with Tom’s dedication, and despite his best efforts to guide you, you remained the spoiled, irresponsible sibling who never quite lived up to the family legacy.

Tom sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as if carrying the weight of your actions. "I’m done letting you get away with this. You're going to own up to what you’ve done."

"Ugh, fine. What do you want me to do?" you muttered, annoyed.

“You’re going to work at the hotel,” he said, leaning closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “You need to understand what it’s like to work hard, just like our employees do.”

“No way. Absolutely fucking not,” you protested, panic rising in your chest. The thought of actually working at the hotel seemed unbearable. “You’re such an asshole, Tom!”

“It’s for your own good,” he said, his tone softening just a fraction.

Tom turned and walked out, leaving you to stare after him in disbelief.

"I’ll show you!" you shouted after him, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at the door as it closed behind him.

You slumped back against the pillows, feeling the headache and the consequences of your actions pounding in your skull. You were screwed. Big time.

✈️✈️✈️✈️

“This is not going to work,” you murmured under your breath, clicking your seat belt into place. You glanced over at Tom, who sat beside you, staring out the window of the private jet with a stern expression. He was serious about this—serious enough to send you to one of the hotels four hours away by plane.

“Just let it be. Or send me to the rehab. I’m the youngest, the irresponsible one,” you continued, your voice edged with frustration. “And you’re the oldest, Mr. Perfect, the responsible one that everyone looks up to.”

Tom sighed, turning to face you, his eyes sharp and unyielding. “Yes, as the oldest, it’s my duty. And I’m happy to do it. But you—you need to stop using that excuse. You have to change this narrative about yourself.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Well, congratulations. You finally got what you wanted—to get rid of me.”

Tom's expression softened, just a little, as he leaned forward. “For the last time, I’ve never seen you as a burden. You’re my sister. I’m the only family you have who actually watches out for you.”

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to get into another one of his lectures. “Don’t start with the family guilt trip. It’s a long flight, and I don’t need you giving me a headache.”

Tom ran a hand through his hair, clearly exhausted. The bags under his eyes were evidence enough that he hadn’t slept much, likely from dealing with the fallout of your latest screw-up. “Calm your tits,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “And try not to be a pain in the ass for once.”

You glanced over at him, noticing the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders slumped slightly from the weight of it all. “Whatever, Tom,” you muttered, looking away, but you could feel the sting of guilt creeping in. Maybe this time, you’d actually pushed too far.

🏨🏨🏨🏨🏨

After the long flight, you and Tom finally arrived at the resort. Stepping out of the car, you took a moment to take in the sight. The Serene Sanctuary Resort was nestled among lush greenery, with elegant architecture that blended seamlessly with the natural beauty of its surroundings.

The air was crisp, and the scent of fresh flowers mingled with the sea breeze. You had to admit, even though you’d never been to this particular resort before, it was one of the nicest you’d ever seen.

As you approached the entrance, Tom guided you toward a man waiting by the front doors. He was tall, with sharp blue eyes that seemed to notice everything, his suit impeccably tailored.

“Bucky, this is my sister,” Tom said, nodding toward you. “She’ll be staying here for a while, learning the ropes.”

Bucky extended a hand politely, his expression neutral but professional. “Welcome to Serene Sanctuary Resort.”

You looked at Tom, narrowing your eyes. “I’m gonna remember this, asshole,” you muttered under your breath.

Tom smirked, clearly enjoying himself. He gave you a mocking little wave before turning back to the car. “Play nice,” he said over his shoulder, then got in and drove away, leaving you standing there with Bucky.

Bucky, unfazed by the exchange, turned his attention back to you. “Let’s get started,” he said, leading you inside. “Tell me about your work experience.”

You shrugged. “I was a barista once.”

“For how long?” Bucky asked, his tone measured.

“A day,” you replied, trying to sound casual.

Bucky paused, giving you a look that was more evaluating than surprised. “Miss, I don’t want to be rude, but this hotel is more than just a business. It has stories, a witness to history. I need you to take this job seriously.”

You raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback by his earnestness. “Seems like you really love this hotel.”

Bucky nodded, his expression softening for a moment. “I do. Who wouldn’t? I’m proud to wear this uniform.”

You rolled your eyes, getting impatient. “Alright, cut to the chase. How much do you want?” you asked, your tone brash.

Bucky didn’t flinch. His face remained calm but firm. “Forgive me for my frankness, miss,” he said, a hint of steel in his voice, “but you’re broke. Your brother has cut off your funds.”

You blinked, stunned for a moment. “What?”

Bucky nodded. “You’re here to work, not to buy your way out of this. So, let’s get to it.”

You gritted your teeth. Great. Now you're stuck with a workaholic.

Bucky led you down a hallway to your room, which was much smaller than you were used to. You couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose as you stepped inside. The space barely had enough room for a twin bed and a tiny closet. Your luggage towered awkwardly in the corner, looking out of place in such cramped quarters.

"Here we are," Bucky said, his tone matter-of-fact. He didn’t wait for your reaction, guiding you down another hallway to the locker room. “And here is your uniform.”

You looked at the plain white shirt and black skirt hanging in the locker, feeling a wave of disdain wash over you. “Why is it different from yours?” you asked, pointing to Bucky’s tailored suit.

“This?” Bucky gave a small, amused scoff. “You have to earn this uniform, prove yourself, and show loyalty.”

You rolled your eyes. “Great. So, what’s next?”

Bucky glanced at his watch. “Starting tomorrow, your shift begins at 5 a.m. sharp.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “5 a.m.?” you repeated, disbelief clear in your voice.

Bucky nodded, not fazed by your reaction. “Yes. And for your first task, you'll be cleaning the guest rooms on the third floor. Make sure everything is spotless. And then you’ll help the kitchen staff prepare breakfast.”

You stared at him in horror. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’ve never cleaned a day in my life! And breakfast prep? I didn’t sign up to be a maid.”

Bucky gave you a stern look. “This is a team effort. Everyone here plays a role in maintaining the hotel’s reputation. That includes you.”

You scratched your head in disbelief. “I’m going to sue you.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his expression unphased. “If you have the money.”

He continued calmly, “Ah, your brother told me he’ll give you back your credit card once you make it through working here for a month.”

You blinked, taken aback. “What?!”

Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone in the locker room.

Fuming, you yanked out your phone and dialed your brother. The moment he answered, you didn’t even give him a chance to speak. “Fuck Bucky, the concierge! Damn it, Tom! He gave me an impossible job! My nails will get ruined, and he put me in a tiny room that can’t even fit my bags!”

Tom’s voice came through the line, calm but firm. “You need to start from the bottom, just like everyone else.”

You could feel your blood boiling. “You have to fucking fire him! This is ridiculous!”

Tom sighed, clearly unimpressed with your tantrum. “No can do. He’s the best employee this hotel has ever had. He’s practically a legend around here.”

“Shut up!” you screamed, your frustration reaching its peak as you hung up on him.

Meanwhile, Tom was already on his way back to the jet, surprised by the abrupt end to the call. He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips despite everything.

His assistant, Jill, who had witnessed your outbursts a few times, looked at him with concern. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to leave her there? Alone?”

Tom chuckled, shaking his head. “She’ll be fine. Bucky’s there to keep an eye on her.”

Jill raised an eyebrow. “You really trust your sister with him?”

Tom nodded, his smile growing wider. “If Bucky could make a notorious dictator say that Serene Resort was the best hotel he’d ever stayed at,” he said, recalling the amusing headline from a few years back, “then taming my sister should be a piece of cake.”

Jill laughed softly. “Well, if anyone can handle her, it’s Bucky.”

Tom leaned back in his seat, relaxing a little. “Exactly. Besides, she could use a little discipline. And who knows? Maybe she’ll surprise us all.”

Author's Note: Hey everyone, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this! I’m currently grappling with a writer’s block and have tried various methods to spark new ideas, but nothing seems to be working.

Any feedback or suggestions you have would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for your support!

❤️❤️❤️❤️

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[vulpes115]

Narcissa, specifically the Marauder’s fandom take on her, makes me want to sob and I need her to be appreciated more. Just, imagine you are the third daughter of parents that only wanted sons. A flower in a sky full of stars. A flower, an object only meant to be looked upon and be pretty. You know your parents never loved you, will never love you, you who is not the long awaited son they asked for. But even still, you can’t help pushing yourself to fulfill the mold they expect from you, beautiful and perfect. But even still you receive love from your family, just in the form of your older sisters. Your eldest who tries so fiercely to protect you and your sister but is clearly starting to slip into insanity. The middle starting to slip away, finding comfort in a man who’s kind you were poisoned to hate. Still, you love them. No matter what you love them, you have so little else. The only other one you have is your baby cousin, made in the same mold as you, who you try so desperately to protect.

At Hogwarts you are expected to be a good mark on your family, prefect, ace student and quidditch player. Willing to drop it all as soon as graduation to be a wife and mother. You only let yourself break the rules once, for her, the one decision you made that goes against your family wishes, the girl whose kisses taste like powdered sugar, whose natural kindness and beauty shines like a candle in your otherwise dark life. For years you let yourself indulge it. For years you pretend. But you know it must end.

The end comes quicker than thought. Your middle sister comes to you, she’s going to elope with her own secret love, she’s going to escape the family and the rot it contains. She asks if you want to come with. You want so badly to say yes. But you have been the perfect daughter for so long, being anything else scares you. So you say no. So you close the door. So you marry the fiancée that sister left behind. So you accept it when your lover breaks up with you, unwilling to be just a mistress. So you tell yourself you’re better without her, all the while knowing you will never find love like her again. Never stop loving her. You say as much when your cousin asks you if it ever gets better, heartbroken over his own Gryffindor. But still you made your choices and well, your fiancée is…fine, as pure-blood men go. He loves you but you don’t love him, can’t ever love him but you’re ok playing your part, even if it’s never him you picture when you play it, not even on your wedding night.

Before you know it, war is at your doorstep. Your eldest, no, only sister and your husband both pledge allegiance to the Dark Lord. So does your youngest, no, only cousin. Your cousin, so young, so naive. He dies, you never find the body, he was only eighteen and you couldn’t do anything to protect him. And the only person you ever loved? Well when you first realized she was going to be fighting on the opposing side you figured she’d be ok. Her and her new husband were powerful, well respected aurors, true Gryffindors, if anybody was going to be ok it was them. You were wrong, oh so wrong. Death would have been kinder with the fate they suffered. A fate brought on by your sister. The only one you ever loved as much as the love of your life. A love now only matched by hate.

You watch as your sister is dragged off in shackles, trying to hide any expression behind an icy mask. You watch as your lover looks back at you with distant lifeless eyes, eyes that don’t recognize you. You visit as often as you can but it’s hard to get away from your duty as mother and wife, even harder to see your lover permanently near death like this. You don’t mean to, but you stop visiting as often.

You only have one thing left to hold on to now, your son. Your darling boy. As a second war fast approaches you fear for him. You saw what happened to your cousin, you fear history is doomed to repeat itself. You do everything you can, extract whatever vows are needed, you do not believe you can survive if he too is taken from you. Then the pivotal moment comes. You have no idea if your son is alive or dead, but the chosen one is lying on the ground and he tells you he’s alive. In that moment you make a choice, you lie, you lie to the most powerful man alive, you lie to a mind reader, you lie to save your son, and you never admit it to yourself but you lie to avenge your lover he stole the sanity of, your cousin he stole the life from, and your sister he stole the soul of.

When the war is over, your action lets your family escape consequences. For the first time since the war began, you find the courage to come and visit your old lover. You apologize for not visiting more, and tell her about your sons, how her son had finished what she started, how your son had done what you never could. It takes several years longer until you make a visit to a different ghost of your past, knock cautiously on the door, a door opened by your sister, a woman you haven’t seen in almost thirty years. Things are awkward at first, of course they are, she is resistant, she’s lost so much to this war and she is slow to trust again, but eventually you two are having a heart to heart over tea, apologizing to each other about old wrongs. It’s not much, but it’s a start. As for your boy, he finds comfort in, of all people, the chosen one, the boy your whole family was supposed to hate, the boy who you helped save the life of. You are glad he is happy, you saw how miserable he was during the war. But a small part of you can’t help but feel envious, that this is a happiness that you could’ve experienced, that your cousin could’ve experienced, if you had made different choices, better choices, found your voice earlier, instead of being left with just an empty shell. Still, you made those choices, had made your bed, and now you must lie in it. But, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, if you get to see your son smile, if you get to hold your grandchildren, if you get to see your sister for monthly tea, if you get to hold your old lover’s hand once in awhile and pretend for just a minute that everything turned out ok between you two.

That’s something your parents didn’t know when they named you after a daffodil, that even after a harsh cold winter, they can make a comeback.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Has monster! konig and reader ever had hybrid daughters that looked mainly like the reader? And if so, is he more merciful with his hatred for his kids in general with his daughters than his sons that look just like him?

Oh, it's a complicated question... on the one hand, Konig hates children. He doesn't care about them; he tosses them into the ocean as soon as they are born, and the only child thing he allows around you is the weird octobaby you keep around because you just love your weird son. However, if his daughters are clearly incapable of surviving being thrown into the ocean and you're fiercely protective of them, he might think about leaving them with you - just as a experiment. Almost like using them as pets for you, not his actual offsprings. It took a lot of convincing for him to let you leave your hybrid daughters with you. You had to ride him whole might, you had to take almost twice as much eggs as usual, rendering you unable to move without his help, and he even got a monopoly on your breast milk, even as you tried to convince him he has to let his kids take a turn...parenting with monster!Konig is hard, especially when he threatens to fly your kids off the cliff whenever you are having a fight. But, god, he loves seeing you act all soft and motherly. you play with your weird hybrid daughters, you coo at them and smile as they shift from one form to another - and while your monster husband still ignores his kids, he is more than willing and wanting to look after you. the way you bend over to play with them, the way you smile...if it takes him a few weird hybrid kids to make you act so soft and motherly, he will fuck a few more into you. Besides...your daughters are kinda nice. They look like you, so already a few points above weird octobaby. He plays with them, sometimes, and he watches over them so the poor hybrids won't be bullied by other recruits...he mostly does this so you can see what a good boy he is and be an extra participant in the bed activities, though...he is still jealous of your children.

[feanoryen]

Something I noticed about the Feanorians…

A&A seem to take mostly after Nerdanel, specifically in the later drafts

Amrod clearly had very different ideas from Feanor at Losgar, wishing to leave & get back to his mother who initially pleaded with him to stay. Or if he wasn’t on the ships to go back, he at least seemed to expect the ships would be sent back to his uncle’s host.

Amras was brave enough to speak against Feanor after losing his brother, something the others did not do, & then minded his own business in ME instead of causing trouble besides his involvement in the Kinslayings, which may be inherited wisdom from Nerdanel as she also stayed out of conflict.

3C almost take exclusively after Feanor

Celegorm is Feanor with a greater fall from greatness

I think Celegorm started out as a better person than Feanor. Maybe it was due to lacking the trauma & grief that plagued Feanor since birth, but he seemed to have held no ill will towards even those his beloved father held in contempt. He was once someone who befriended so many of his half cousins with little reason to have an ulterior motive for doing it, and was a valued companion of Orome, being the most famous elven hunter in the Legendarium.

He doesn’t sound like someone rotten from the start, yet he became someone more infamous & hated than Feanor had ever been.

Caranthir is Feanor who changed for the better

The dark one, the angry harsh one, the loner. You’d think this would be the son of Feanor who turned out the worst & most hated right, rather than his fair & social brother who was once favored by a Vala?

Caranthir’s descriptions do not paint him pleasantly. He inherited a temper from Feanor & he was undoubtedly being a little cruel, like his father was capable of being, in that scene with Angrod. Yet unlike Feanor, he changed. He never became a perfect person, but he learned to keep his emotions in check & became a better person. He went from a haughty a-hole who fought with everyone he was displeased by to a guy who helped others, made alliances, & saved people.

Coming to Middle Earth improved him as much as it worsened Celegorm. Had it not been for the oath & kinslayings, I think he could have been fulfilled to his greatest potential as much as Finrod & Turgon were.

Curufin is Feanor without an identity

I have less to say on him than I do the other 2 Cs because we already know how Curufin is like Feanor. He’s Curufinwe, but he’s not Feanaro.

He has the face & body, but not the soul. The spirit of fire, an essential component to who Feanor is.

Feanor was revered as much as he was hated, Curufin is just hated. Feanor was everything Curufin is, yet Curufin is nothing close to what Feanor was.

M&M have both so much of Feanor & so much of Nerdanel in them at once, yet in different ways

Maglor's temperament is canonically his mother's. He has her gentleness & rationality. But though he is kind, he has a brutally unforgiving side to him, which likely comes from Feanor. He's an artist like both his parents, but like Feanor, he's a prodigy.

Maedhros's most famous feature, his hair, is Nerdanel's. His kindness, wisdom, & morality are his mother's.

Everything except for his father's craft, Maedhros's shares with Feanor. His fury, his pride, his fierce unshakable love, his loyalty, his bravery, his soul, are all his father's.

[cassie48]

Dark! Paul atreides x sweet! Crybaby! Pregnant! Reader

𝘙𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘕𝘎𝘌

Pairing : Paul atreides x Naive! Pregnant!reader

Summary : Paul is obsessed with reader, reader gets harmed, Paul goes crazy, paul gets his revenge. Less focus on plot more on relationship

…………………………………………………………………………….

Paul had brought you with him when he drank the water of life. He knew you’d have to do it with him to not see him as insane.

As soon as you saw his eyes go blue, you’d panicked. But paul calmed you down “Our baby must see, he must see the truth when he enters this world” he had told you.

After that night, the two of you had changed. Paul became 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳. If anyone dared touch you or upset you, they would die.

The two of you spoke in Chakobsa, even forgetting you once spoke English. Your life was amazing. Paul had taken the emperors throne, killing him and his daughter, making you empress.

He doted on you 24/7, as cold as he was he never treated you any differently. On this particular morning, Paul woke, looking down at you, in your pretty white nightdress, your stomach round, and clearly sticking out. You were now seven months into your pregnancy.

Two months ago a doctor confirmed your baby was to be a boy, which pleased Paul, an heir. You however didnt care what the gender was, and deep down you knew Paul didn’t either.

Paul sat up, in your large bed, and climbed out of the covers, resting his hand on your bump, smiling as you sighed in your sleep.

He leant down to your bump, whispering to his unborn son “When you grow older, you must protect your mother” he said in Chakobsa.

After a moment he sat up, placing a kiss on you cheek, and getting dressed and leaving you, knowing he had lots of work to complete that day.

Around an hour later, you woke up peacefully, looking over to see Paul’s spot empty, you sighed sadly wishing your husband could be there.

Suddenly your large doors swung open, revealing a man, you quickly jumped pulling the covers completely over yourself, knowing Paul never wanted any other man to see you in such a state.

“My lady, excuse me, I’m here to attend to your needs” the man spoke, holding back a smirk.

“W-Where are my maids?” You stuttered, still shocked by the man’s sudden entrance.

Paul had a rule where no man was allowed enter your room when he was not there.

“Oh they are…busy. His lordship sent me himself, he said you need to prepare for the day.

“Oh em…we’ll I guess if Paul thinks it’s fine” you said reluctantly getting out of the bed, your white nightgown covering you, but your seven month bump on show.

“Allow me to brush your hair” he said, gesturing her to sit down.

At this point you felt extremely uncomfortable, something felt wrong, surely Paul would have helped you himself if your maids were unavailable.

Reluctantly, you sat in your chair, and the man picked up the big brush. He began to brush your hair, and the silence was thick.

“W-Where exactly is Paul?” You asked nervously.

“What lovely hair you have my lady” the man said, ignoring your question.

You gulped, and prepared to question him once more, when he roughly pulled down on the brush hard, making you cry out. You had a very low pain tolerance.

“Ouch” you whispered, your eye’s already pooling with tears.

The man did not however ease your nerves, as he continued to roughly pull your hair.

“That’s hurts!” You said, tears now falling.

“Stop!” You said, trying to stand up, but he grabbed your throat roughly.

“Shh, your stuck with me, all alone, me and the empress” the man sneered, making you feel sick.

Your cries worsened when he placed his hand on your almost exposed breast, you squirmed, and prepared for the worst.

Suddenly, his hand dropped from around you throat, allowing you to breathe once more, relief entering your body.

Yet you screamed once more, seeing the man’s throat being slit, and when he fell to the ground, your husband stood, a fierce expression written on his features.

Paul kicked the man’s body away from you, before moving over and taking you in his arms, lifting you up and sitting on the chair, you in his lap.

“Shh, I’m here” he said rocking you gently.

Your cries didn’t die down, and you felt sick from crying this hard. “He, he touched me Paul! I’m sorry! H-He said you sent him, I should ha-have said no” you explained crying as you did.

“It is only his fault” he said, his voice laced with pure anger.

He gently lifted you up and climbed into your bed, laying your head down on his chest. “Sleep my love, I’m not going anywhere” he whispered, caressing your bump gently as you tucked your head into his chest, your tears beginning to dry.

After a few minutes you drifted back to sleep, your husband holding you protectively. He was a possessive man, whoever dared touch his wife would die.

………………………………………………………………………..

Ok I know this is like so bad and short but I just wanted to write something….

[baelarys]

๛𝐌𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

Aegon ii targaryen x Reader tully x Aemond targaryen

word count : 1750

Warning :Infidelity,anguts, bad words

Note:This was a Request but I accidentally lost the comment I hope you see it,I did my best, I hope this is what you wanted or close to it,I don't do smut, I'm sorry, but I hope you still like it.

I never believed that what started as a simple rumor would spread so quickly. I never imagined that a few exchanged words would lead you and Aegon to something more than just flirting in the corridors.

It was just a couple of nights, furtive meetings behind your husband, Prince Aemond's back. No one was supposed to suspect, but unfortunately, that wasn't the case. When you gave birth to your second son, Aenys, you hoped that inheriting Valyrian features like his father would dispel any suspicions, but the resemblance to Aegon was undeniable.

Your older son was undoubtedly a miniature version of Aemond—same gaze, straight hair, and a fine, small face. But Aenys had rounder features and wavy hair. Thankfully, those rumors never became an impediment for Aemond. He loved his children and was always there for them, whether to play or to tell them stories.

You held the little baby in your arms while Baelor played with small wooden toys on the floor. Suddenly, a shout of excitement echoed in the room.

"Kepa!" Baelor exclaimed upon seeing his father enter through the door.

"Rūklon zaldrīzes" Aemond said, lifting the little one in his arms with a smile.

"Husband" you greeted as Aemond approached to plant a kiss on your cheek.

Since Aegon's coronation as the new king, Aemond was constantly away. With a war on the horizon, securing the support of all the houses was crucial, and Aemond took on that task diligently.

Aemond sat on the floor next to Baelor, who proudly showed him his wooden toys.

"Look, Kepa, I made a dragon" Baelor said, holding up a roughly carved figure.

Aemond smiled and took the toy in his hands. "It's a very fierce dragon, Baelor. What's its name?"

"Vhagar! " Baelor exclaimed enthusiastically.

You chuckled softly from your seat, watching the interaction with tenderness. Aemond placed the baby on the floor, allowing him to crawl towards his older brother.

"Rūklon zaldrīzes" Aemond murmured as he watched the little one explore the world around him.

Baelor started playing with his brother, carefully showing him his toys and making sure the baby didn't get hurt. Aemond, relaxed for the first time in weeks, joined his sons in play, creating a tower of wooden blocks and helping Baelor knock it down with a hearty laugh.

You decided to join in the game. "How about we read a story?" you suggested.

Baelor jumped with excitement. "Yes, yes! A story!"

"Good idea." Aemond nodded, smiling.

You got up and fetched a storybook from the shelf. You found one of Baelor's favorites, filled with tales of dragons and knights. Sitting on the floor with the baby in your lap, Baelor snuggled up beside you, and Aemond sat nearby, forming a family circle.

You opened the book and began to read, using different voices for each character. The baby listened attentively, his big curious eyes following every movement. Baelor was absorbed in the story, his eyes shining with excitement as he followed the adventure.

As the story progressed, the room filled with warmth and tranquility. It was a moment of peace and unity, away from the worries of the outside world.

When you finished the tale, you closed the book gently and looked at your family. Baelor yawned, clearly ready for bed, while the baby was already half asleep in your arms.

"I think it's time for bed" you said with a smile.

Aemond nodded, getting up to take Baelor to his bed. He followed you with the baby in his arms, making sure both children were comfortable and tucked in.

When Aemond approached Aenys's crib, you noticed how he scrutinized the baby. Before you could say anything, Aemond apologized and said he needed to discuss some matters with Ser Criston. That eased your mind a bit; at least you wouldn't have to confront Aemond at the moment.

You could hear the sound of guards hurriedly walking through the halls, but you decided not to pay much attention. Suddenly, your door swung open and two guards entered urgently, quickly scanning the room.

"What's happening?" you asked with concern.

"Prince Jaehaerys is dead" one of the guards responded, bowing his head "The king demands your presence."

Shock and grief instantly washed over you, but there was no time to process. You quickly made your way to Aegon's chambers. The castle was eerily silent, a reflection of the tragedy that had just struck the royal family. Upon opening the doors, you saw Aegon sitting in one of the armchairs in his room, his expression lost and his body weighed down by sadness.

Your heart broke seeing your brother-in-law like this. You approached him cautiously, trying not to startle him.

"Aegon" you called softly.

Aegon looked up, his eyes red and filled with tears. You knelt beside him, taking one of his hands in yours.

"I'm here, Aegon" you said gently and reassuringly.

Without saying a word, you embraced him tenderly, allowing him to cry on your shoulder. You felt the weight of his grief, and a deep sadness washed over you for the loss of your nephew. You stayed strong, holding him as he let out his anguish.

"I'm so sorry, Aegon" you whispered, softly stroking his back "There are no words for this pain, but I'm here with you."

Aegon nodded weakly, clinging to you like an anchor in the midst of a storm. "Why... why him?" he asked between sobs.

"I don't know" you answered honestly "Life can be terribly unfair. But we'll always remember him, and his memory will live on in our hearts."

Suddenly, he pulled away slightly, his eyes darkened by growing rage. "This wasn't an accident" he said in a low voice, but filled with hatred "It was Rhaenyra. I'm sure of it. That witch has always wanted to destroy me. She's taken my son's life to hurt me, to weaken us!"

You fell silent, feeling the intensity of his fury. It was a pain mixed with hatred, a dangerous combination that could consume him.

"I don't need proof!" he shouted, rising abruptly from the chair "It was her. She's always coveted the throne, and now she's willing to kill her own blood to get it. She'll pay for this! I swear she'll pay!"

You stood up and embraced him again, trying to calm him down. "I understand your pain and your anger, Aegon. But we must be careful. Blind vengeance will only bring more suffering."

Aegon breathed heavily, his body trembling with anger. Slowly, his breathing calmed a little, but the spark of hatred in his eyes still burned.

"I won't let her get away with this, Y/N. Not after this" he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper.

–––––––––––

It had only been a couple of days since Prince Jaehaerys's death, and the atmosphere in the castle had become tense and somber. The loss of an heir had left a void that couldn't be ignored, and both Otto and Alicent were starting to worry about the lack of a clear successor for Aegon.

In a private meeting in the council chamber, Aegon, visibly affected by grief and anger, made an abrupt decision.

"I have decided that Aenys will be my heir" Aegon announced, his voice firm but laden with emotion.

Otto and Alicent exchanged concerned looks. Otto was the first to speak.

"Your Majesty, I understand your pain and the need to secure succession, but we must consider all options. Baelor is the elder of your nephews, and it would be fairer to name him as heir."

Alicent nodded, supporting her father's words. "Baelor is a good boy. Besides, it would be more appropriate to follow the natural line of succession."

Aegon clenched his fists, his expression hardening. "No. Aenys will be the heir. It's my decision."

The tension in the room increased, every glance filled with distrust and concern. Finally, Otto sighed and nodded, knowing that pushing further would only make things worse.

After the meeting, you found yourself alone with Aemond in one of the castle's corridors. His expression was serious, his eyes searching yours with intensity.

"We need to talk" Aemond said, his voice tense but controlled.

"I've tried to ignore them, but I can't anymore" Aemond said with tension "Is Aenys my son?"

"Of course he is" you began to respond, but Aemond interrupted you, his voice filled with emotion.

"I want you to be honest!" he exclaimed, his eyes desperately seeking the truth in yours.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself and find the right words. "Aemond, I understand your doubts, but I assure you that Aenys is your son. The rumors are just that rumors. They're designed to divide us and sow mistrust."

"Sure? Because apparently people don't think so" Aemond said, cornering you against the wall, his anger vibrating in his voice "I'll ask once more: Is Aenys my son?"

You felt a lump in your throat, fear and anguish mixing inside you. You tried to defend yourself, but the words were stuck, unable to come out. You couldn't lie to him.

"Aemond, please…"you murmured, your voice barely audible, struggling against the weight of his gaze. You know I love you.

"That doesn't answer my question, Y/N" he replied, his eyes cold and filled with distrust. I want the truth.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the strength to face him. Tears began to fill your eyes.

You shook your head as you wiped away the tears that slid down your cheek.

"Aemond, please let me explain" you said, your voice shaking as you tried to contain the emotions that were overwhelming you "It was a mistake, a terrible mistake that I regret every day. But Aenys is our son in every way that matters."

Aemond looked at you with a mix of pain and fury, his breathing heavy and his eyes burning with an intensity you hadn't seen before.

"How could you?" he asked, his voice low and full of bitterness. How could you betray me like this?

"It wasn't intentional, Aemond" you murmured, tears flowing again. " It was a moment of weakness, an impulsive decision that I cannot undo. But I love you, I have always loved you."

Aemond walked away from you upset, you could hear the sound of his footsteps walking away, you felt terrible as a wave of anger and regret washed over you, you tried to silence your sobbing as best you could as you wiped away your tears and returned to your room.

[ellecdc]

Hello dearest, how are you?

Congratulations for the exams🥳 hope you get better(because I know exams can get us mad LOL)

CBBH

Do you think Draco would ever pull the “you are not even my real mother” to Vix, and if he did what would be the others reaction

hi sweets! thanks for your sweet words and also your request - I've not been spending much time in my CBBH universe but I know this is how most of you found me, so here's your request!!

Sirius Black x Vixen!reader who deal with a tempertantrum from Draco

CW: brief mention of the war, brief mention of character death, adopted child worries, parental struggles, fluff, hurt/comfort

Sirius barely had time to throw up a silencing charm down the hallway to the baby’s room before he heard the door slam and heavy foot falls head towards the kitchen. 

“Draco Malfoy!” He heard you call sternly; Sirius winced at the use of the full name. “Do not walk away from me when I am talking to you.”

“You’re not talking to me, you’re shouting at me.” The ten-year-old argued back.

“I would not have to shout if you would- I’m not arguing with you.” You corrected yourself, finally following Draco into the kitchen where Sirius could see his son’s red and frustrated face whilst yours looked frustrated and exhausted. “I have specifically told you again and again to not fly your brooms south of the manor!”

“I know!”

“Then tell me why I had to come chasing you lot all the way to the Jones’ farm  lest you be seen by muggles, or worse, hit the power lines! You know I don’t just tell you not to go there to be boring, right? To be bossy? It’s to keep you safe, Draco.” You insisted severely. 

Draco had the audacity to scoff at you for that. “Why are you only shouting at me about this? Why not yell at Harry, huh? He was there too!”

You stuck your tongue in your cheek as you raised your eyebrow at the boy. “Because Harry is not mine, Draco. It is my job as your mum to-”

“BUT YOU’RE NOT MY MUM!” Draco screamed, causing the room to fall painfully silent. 

You and Sirius had never tag-teamed in your parenting; there’d never really been a need to. Draco had always been a super easy child, and both of you trusted the other to handle it, or, to let the other know when you needed back up. 

But this, this was uncharted territory, and Sirius wasn’t completely proud of the fierce protectiveness he felt roar to life inside of him as you let out a disbelieving breath. After the war - your death disappearance, finally finding you again only to have you snatched out from under his nose, and then to finally be able to care for you the way you so deserved to be cared for - this felt like an assault on Sirius’ favourite person; son-or-not, Draco had crossed a line. 

“If Harry’s not your son, I’m not your son either! So sod off with your lecture!”

“Draco.” Sirius barked, causing you to hold out a hand in your direction.

“Sirius, don’t.”

“Love, he-” He started.

“Go to your room, Draco.” You ordered; a determination in your eyes Sirius wasn’t sure he’d ever seen from you before.

It didn’t appear Draco had either, if the slight wavering in his glare was any indication. But it appeared his frustration and stubbornness won out as he continued to stare at you defiantly.

“Go to your room, now.” You repeated quietly.

The boy finally turned and stomped his way down the hall before slamming his bedroom door behind him; Sirius wanted to smack him upside the head for that alone, let alone what he’d just said to you. 

“What the hells has gotten into him?” Sirius asked in disbelief, seeming to startle you out of your shock as you moved to grab a glass of juice from the cool storage.

“He’s just frustrated.” You muttered quietly.

“We don’t talk to each other like that.” Sirius argued, earning him a tired sigh from you.

“Well, apparently we do now.” You said as you sat at the table across from him. 

Now that you were stationary, Sirius could clearly see the reflection of the manor grounds from your glassy eyes as you stared unseeingly out the window.

“You okay, my love?” He asked quietly, reaching a hand out across the table to yours. You sniffled and took his hand quickly; your muscles relaxing slightly as he rubbed soothing circles across your wrist with his thumb. 

“I’m fine.” 

And there may have been a period of time where Sirius would have believed that, but the two of you were nine years into your parenting game, and fourteen years into your relationship, so Sirius liked to think he knew better.  “I’m going to go talk to him.”

“Don’t.” You spat; your hand creating a death grip around Sirius’ hand forcing him to return his arse to the seat. “He’s upset, Pads.” You offered more gently. “Let him cool down.”

“How many times have you told James the same of me?” Sirius teased, eliciting a sad smile from you, though it was a smile nonetheless. 

“He’s just like his dad.” You whispered, looking close to tears again. 

“He didn’t mean it, my love.” He implored, causing you to shake your head. 

“Doesn’t make it not true.”

“Vix…”

“She would be doing such a better job than me, Siri.” You let out through a choked sob. “She should be here with him; he deserves his mother.”

“He has his mother.” Sirius argued; feeling the protective anger bubbling up again in his oesophagus. 

“Sirius.”

“He deserves his mother, but he was gifted with you, Vix; we all were.” Sirius pressed severely. “He is unbelievably lucky to have a mum like you.”

You took a shuddering breath and let it out with a sigh. “I just wish I knew I was doing a good job with him.”

“You are.” Regulus said in a bored tone, causing the two of you to jump nearly a foot in the air.

“Buggering fuck- how long have you been there!?” Sirius shrilled.

“We were literally mid-conversation before your wife and child stormed in, Sirius.” Regulus drawled. 

“Fucking hells.” 

“Children are bastards.” Regulus continued as if the two of you weren’t currently trying to restart your hearts. “And just because you’re doing a great job with him doesn’t mean Draco’s any less of a bastard.”

“Okay, well, I don’t know that you should be calling my son a bastard?” You argued in the form of a question.

“Well he’s sort of acting like one.” Sirius muttered petulantly, earning him a kick in the shin under the table.

“Narcissa trusted you with him, Y/N.” Regulus pressed; grey eyes boring into yours as memories of the final months of the war that only the two of you were privy to passed through your understanding. “And she was right to.”

And like the creepy fuck he is, Regulus turned and silently left the room; floating like a victorian ghost haunting the halls of Potter Manor.

“He’s a weird bloke.” Sirius proclaimed, earning him another kick in the shin. Luckily for Sirius, he knew the kick was coming and caught your ankle with his hand, holding your foot hostage under the table. “But he’s right, my love. You’re the best mum.”

“As good as Effie?” You asked quietly.

Sirius felt his left eye twitch; he wanted to say yes, because you’re you and you’re his and you’re perfect, but he also felt he couldn’t because…well…Effie was the greatest mother in the whole wide world?

Thankfully, you simply chuckled and reached a hand across the table to caress Sirius’ face. “Thank you, my love.”

He quickly turned his face to kiss the palm of your hand before he stood up.

“Okay, I’m going to go talk to our bastard of a child.”

“Sirius!” You scolded, but he was already half way down the hall. 

Sirius knocked twice before he propped the door to Draco’s bedroom open, where he saw the little squirt laying face down on his bed with his face shoved into his pillow.

Sirius took a steadying breath as he closed the door behind him and moved into his oldest child’s room.

Patience didn’t always come easily to Sirius; that is to say, patience and grace was not his automatic response. 

But he refused to be like his parents; he wanted to be better.

So, he thought of Effie, and Monty, and Hope Lupin, and you, and he sat on the edge of his little boy's bed and placed a gentle hand on his back.

“Hey buddy.” He said quietly, rubbing circles onto his back. The only sign Sirius got that Draco had heard him was a small sob into the boy’s pillow. “What was that about? Hm?” He continued gently.

Draco let in a (quite disgusting, if you asked Sirius) sniffle and sat up on his bed; face wet and red, littered with tear track stains.

It always felt like everytime Sirius blinked, his children were bigger than he remembered them. But right now, Draco seemed so small; sitting in front of Sirius was the sad and scared one and a half year old boy who had just watched his birth mother die whilst protecting him as his adopted mum shielded him with her body. 

And in that sad, scared, distraught little boy's face - with eyes so much like his own - Sirius saw himself, too. 

“What’s the matter, Draco?”

“Does she hate me now?” The boy let out in a sob. 

“Does who hate you now?” Sirius asked disbelievingly. 

“Mum.” 

“Oh, buddy, no.” Sirius replied emphatically, pulling his son into his lap and cradling his head to his chest. “Mum could never hate you, my love; she adores you.”

“I don’t know why I said what I said.” Draco admitted.

Sirius let out a sigh as he rocked the two of them back and forth. “It’s because you’re a Black, buddy; our words cut deep. But we have to be better than that, Draco. We need to say what we mean and mean what we say; we never know what tomorrow brings.”

“I love mum, I really do.” He insisted. “I was just so mad at being scolded and…”

“And maybe a little embarrassed being caught doing something you weren’t supposed to?” Sirius offered.

Draco let out a shuddering breath and nodded his head.

“Your mum loves you so much, and it scares her when she thinks you might get hurt. She made a very important promise nearly nine years ago that she would protect you with her life, buddy. She takes that promise very seriously.”

“I’m sorry.” Draco whispered as he sat up in Sirius’ lap. The boy wiped at his face and looked at his father imploringly. 

“I’m not the one who needs an apology, buddy.” Sirius whispered back, pushing a lock of blond hair away from his son’s face and making a mental note that Draco was due for a haircut. 

“What if she doesn’t forgive me?” He asked timidly. 

Sirius leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the boy's forehead. “Your mother has forgiven me for far worse, my love. Come on, let’s go talk to her, hm?” He offered. 

And Draco quickly nodded and slid from his dad’s lap, reaching a hand behind him to grasp Sirius’ before they made their way back to the kitchen to make amends with Draco’s mum.

[wisteria-lodge]

What do you think about Molly Weasley?

I have a lot of thoughts about Molly Weasley. I think she’s a fantastic character,  just not in the way that JKR intended. 

I think the intention was to make Molly kind of a mama bear. Fiercely loving, fiercely protective, hot tempered… but you know. In a cute way. In a warm way. I do think that Movie!Molly threads this needle. (I also think that her bear-ears hairstyle is perhaps intentional.) 

Movie!Molly gets her big duel with Bellatrix, she gets (reasonably) annoyed at the boys for stealing the car. Her only spicy moment is the Howler… which is softened and made more comedic by 1) including a nice message for Ginny at the end 2) including a tongue-sticking-out moment, which turns the whole thing into more of a joke on Molly. Now it’s your mom being kind of weird and embarrassing… versus her public shaming you, toxic tik-tok mom style. The Howler is much worse in the book: “​​I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS.”

So let’s talk Book!Molly, because there’s a lot there. She’s a Prewett, growing up in a more *typical* pure blood family as opposed to being a “blood traitor” Weasley. (Cedrella Black was disowned for marrying a Weasley, Lucretia Black married a Prewett no problem.)  Molly also married Arthur really young, and really quickly. It’s even lightly implied they married too quickly - 

“I just think [Bill and Fleur] have hurried into this engagement, that’s all!”  “They’ve known each other a year,” said Ron (...)   “Well, that’s not very long! I know why it’s happened, of course. It’s all this uncertainty with You-Know-Who coming back, people think they might be dead tomorrow, so they’re rushing all sorts of decisions they’d normally take time over. It was the same last time he was powerful, people eloping left, right, and center —”  “Including you and Dad,” said Ginny slyly.  “Yes, well, your father and I were made for each other, what was the point in waiting?” said Mrs. Weasley.

There’s some psychological truth to that. (Also, Molly and Arthur were 100% hooking up while at Hogwarts:)

“[The Fat Lady] was here in my time,” said Mrs. Weasley. “She gave me such a telling off one night when I got back to the dormitory at four in the morning —”  “What were you doing out of your dormitory at four in the morning?” said Bill, surveying his mother with amazement. Mrs. Weasley grinned, her eyes twinkling.  “Your father and I had been for a nighttime stroll,” she said.

And the timeline’s too fuzzy to know for sure…  but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Molly getting pregnant with Bill was one of the reasons she and Arthur got married so fast. 

It’s hard to say, because you never get a great sense of their relationship, but I’m actually not sure how compatible the two of them are, or if they would have gotten married at all if it hadn't been for the war and all these external factors. There is an ongoing conflict between them: Arthur is a political radical who seems to enjoy upsetting the Malfoys - he’s not playing nice, he doesn't have a prestigious job, he’s not getting a promotion anytime soon, and he’s fine with this. His interest in muggles is fringe counterculture stuff, and his hobby is illegal. And Molly… is pretty establishment. She wants her sons to be Head Boys and Prefects, and then she wants them to get jobs at the Ministry:

“Mum went mad at [Fred and George after finding their prank candy.] Told them they weren’t allowed to make any more of it, and burned all the order forms. . . . She’s furious at them anyway. They didn’t get as many O.W.L.s as she expected.” “And then there was this big row,” Ginny said, “because Mum wants them to go into the Ministry of Magic like Dad, and they told her all they want to do is open a joke shop.”

Like we hear about this interaction secondhand, which softens the emotion, but I’m sorry? Molly burned their order forms? She wants them to do jobs they very clearly have no aptitude for, instead of being entrepreneurs? Arthur sides with the twins, and of course he does. They’re anarchists just like he is. But it *really* bothers Molly, and this conflict just keeps coming up. 

[sidenote. You cannot tell that Arthur Weasley, once he was in his late 20s/early 30s, once he had grown into himself a bit. Tell me that this man didn’t once think “you know, I really should have married a Muggle. That would’ve been perfect.”’]

But back to Molly Weasley, nee Prewett. She wants a big family, and there is no way this doesn't have something to do with the fact that both her brothers were just brutally killed. She’s trying to distract herself, fill some void, find some meaning. The fact that it doesn’t work (because how could it, she’s got just buckets of unprocessed trauma) is maybe why she is so set on having a girl. Maybe a little baby girl is what she needs. 

In the main timeline of the book, Molly 100% needs enrichment. She needs to start breeding alpacas or join a book club or get a job. (Job could be cool, especially since she has no kids at home and money is an issue.) Like come on, Molly is intense, Type A, and powerful. Possibly one of the best duelists in the entire series. She takes out Voldemort’s number two, and Bellatrix has already defeated Sirius - incredibly talented and powerful in his own right. I do think that the reason JKR made this choice (instead of letting Neville have a confrontation with Bellatrix, which would have been more narratively straightforward) is because (whether consciously or unconsciously) she doesn’t like the idea of one of her good-guy GUY characters hurting a woman. So Molly defeats Bellatrix with magic mom powers, which is the same reason Narcissia can lie to Voldemort’s face I guess.

What Molly definitely does NOT need to be doing is obsessing about her kids' significant others. Like take Fleur. (Who I think we as readers were meant to dislike more than we actually did?)  Fleur is great. So when Molly has a problem with her… then starts trying to matchmake Bill with Tonks… until Tonks (another fan favorite) also starts annoying her… it makes Molly looks really unreasonable. Also, let Bill have his long hair and earring. 

She gets weird about Hermione in Book 4, after she believes Rita Skeeter’s write-up that she's some sort of temptress playing Harry and Krum off each other. Instead of, idk, asking Harry (who she thinks of as a surrogate son) she sends Hermione a passive-agressive comically undersized chocolate egg. Harry and Ron get huge ones. That’s not cute, or funny.

Also, Percy and Penelope Clearwater. I know the real-world reason Percy hides his relationship in Book 2 is so he can be a red herring acting all suspicious… but in universe, I guess Percy just wants to date someone without his mom being weird about it? Like Penelope Clearwater is nice and normal and fine. Why is he hiding this relationship?

Then there’s Molly the disciplinarian, which we mostly see in the context of Fred and George (although there is also Ron being public-shamed by the Howler.) She is constantly giving the twins a hard time about their life choices, their jokes. Ron says “I remember Mum walloping Fred with her broomstick." Then yeah, she burns their order forms. She does feel bad about this later, and after the whole thing at the Quidditch World Cup hugs them and says, “What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn’t get enough O.W.L.s?” It’s meant to be a sweet moment, but this would annoy me just a little. It’s a little like saying, “I’m glad I don’t have to think of myself as being a bad mother.” 

I also want to point out Molly's pretty clear favoritism. Fred and George are the problem children, Ginny is the baby (although we almost never see her and her mother interact, so it’s actually very hard to say what their relationship is like), and Percy is the golden child. We see how this sort of sets him apart from all his siblings, how he's described as pompous and full of himself, but also how he’s secretive and hides things from his family. It’s kind of precarious being the golden child, and when he finally does stop pleasing his mother he falls hard. (Although I will always be a big believer in Daddy Issues!Percy. That has to be why he commits that hard to Barty Crouch Sr that fast, and then ignores that many red flags.) 

And of course Ron is the invisible child. Almost the first thing we hear him say is, “She always forgets I don’t like corned beef.” That one can slide. Molly’s got five kids at home, she made corn beef sandwiches, not everyone is going to be equally happy. But Ron’s clothes.  Molly makes her own clothes, she's defined by her facility with household magic. She knits Ron sweaters... but at least two of them are maroon despite the fact that Ron hates maroon. His room is  plastered top to bottom in bright orange Chudley Cannons merch. She couldn’t make him an orange sweater? There’s also the issue with the dress robes. Ron clearly doesn’t like them (“Mum, you’ve given me Ginny’s new dress.”) But he is the one who cuts off the lace trim later, and he doesn’t do an amazing job. I know that it's a joke, but like. That sounds like a job for Molly.

We do get Horcrux!Hermione telling Ron that he is the “Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter,” so this idea of Molly picking favorites is *kind of* in the text. But Horcrux!Hermione is wrong about Harry/Hermione being a thing, so maybe we’re meant to read this as Ron’s baseless anxiety? It doesn’t feel like that though. What it actually feels like is an unresolved plot thread. 

So here’s my take on Molly Weasley. This is someone who is pretty high-powered, who suffered a period of emotional upheaval, then got married and started having kids because she kind of thought that was what you do - and it wasn’t as fulfilling as she thought it would be. I think a lot of her comments come off as *meaner* than JKR intended, because let’s face it - JKR has a kind of mean sense of humor. And if I want to speculate further… I think there are quite a few parallels between Molly Weasley and JKR. I don't think she put them there consciously.

[karniss-bg3]

The Tragedy of Faith

So between tumblr and twitter I've read various takes on Kar'niss and what draws people to him. For some it's the monster fucking appeal, for others it's the desire to fix a clearly broken individual. There are in-betweens and of course this is subjective and depends on the person. Act 2 spoilers ahead. Where my personal interest comes from is how good Larian communicated the tragedy of faith and what a cult can do to a person. Kar'niss is a creature that has been broken by not one God, but two. Lolth broke him physically, the Absolute broke him mentally. His entire identity has been lost to a deity to the point he raises her in his speech. Referring to her as "Majesty" and "Queen", two terms you don't really hear anyone else address her as, he has elevated her to his final savior and leader. He also often refers to himself as "we" and "us", cementing him as part of the hive mind rather than holding any individuality of his own. When he does refer to himself as "I", it's mostly to show further loyalty to the Absolute, to maintain a position of importance in his fractured mind. Cults are notorious for targeting the most vulnerable in society as they are the easiest to mold and manipulate to their doctrine. The fact that goblins are one of the main races that fall to the Absolute's influence is telling in that regard, as they are often dismissed by the other races. Kar'niss was ripe for the picking, an easy target to lure into her arms. No doubt he was found shortly after Lolth twisted him into a drider and banished him, he didn't stand a chance.

Not even taking those elements into account, Kar'niss came from a society that is infamous for cruelty and violence, especially toward males of their species. Drow greatest hits include, but are not limited to: -Killing their young if they are not aesthetically pleasing enough. In other words, ugly. -Sacrificing every third born son to Lolth.

-If a male finds the favor of two competing females, it often doesn't end well for the male. The rival woman will kill the male and chuck his dead body into his opponents bedchambers, just for the sake of being petty.

-Love and emotions of any sort are in short supply, if not outright unseen as a general rule. The nature of drow to backstab and seek to rise in the ranks makes it near impossible to be anything other than fierce and domineering.

With these things in mind, it's easy to assume that Kar'niss had a turbulent upbringing and likely suffered untold abuse from many around him. It's not to say that good or reasonable drow don't exist, it's just not commonplace in a Lolthite society. Unfortunately, the game doesn't give us a great deal to go on as far as his past. What little he reveals only happens after he's dead, and even then its really a cliffs notes version. What we do know is that his devotion is intense and unwavering. He's willing to die for the Absolute because in his mind the Absolute are the only ones who care about him. We even see fellow followers talk down to him, dismiss him, and verbally eye-roll the guy. To them, his fanaticism is over the top and they follow the same God he does.

All told, this leads me to the conclusion that Kar'niss has never, or rarely, known true compassion in his entire life. He's been used as a puppet for one deity or another, and likely mocked or cast aside even when he did everything right. It doesn't surprise me that there are folks who desire a romance option, or barring that a side venture to break him free of the Absolute's hold. We don't know if Kar'niss did terrible things in his past, or where his moral compass sits as his entire personality revolves around God. But I'd love to know, and I crave more background on him in one form or another.

I've spent too much time thinking about different paths that could happen in-game. I also understand it's incredibly unlikely he'll ever become a companion. The sheer amount of time and resources needed to give a character a satisfying arc is likely more than Larian can do with other constraints, but maybe we'll be pleasantly surprised. So Kar'niss lovers, platonic, romantic, or everything in-between...I gotchu fam. We stan the spooder bby. Someone get that man a blanket and a nice mug of hot cocoa. And a cult de-programming kit, one of those would be good.

[hoss-bonaventure]

i want to expand on this post just cause i can.

so much of gus and jesse’s relationship is played as an affair. this is only because it makes walt’s anger about their dynamic feel more jilted, like a lover. when he confronts jesse about the two of them having dinner he uses language an excusatory husband would use if he caught his spouse cheating such as “tell me you weren’t as his house last night?” it’s very clearly written as jesse being disloyal to walt and their partnership. now the audience knows that’s just simply not true with jesse literally saying “if you kill mr. white, you’re going to have to kill me too” when he thinks gus is suggesting killing him. he’s devoted to mr. white throughly. even when he’s being shoved into these new situations by mike and gus, there’s never a moment where he thinks about abandoning him. he’s still in the back of his mind through everything, and every character knows this except for walt. that’s what makes most of the build-up leading to gus’s death so ironic. to walt, gus is the other woman who needs to be killed for fraternizing with what’s “his”. in reality, it’s his own brutality and sadistic behavior that is putting a wedge between him and jesse. 

it’s very reminiscent of walt finding out about skyler’s affair with ted. he lashes out and throws a tantrum but he never stops for a second and asks why it happened. he never comes to the conclusion that his actions are what’s driving skyler into another’s arms. he plots to get revenge on ted, but it’s never more serious than toxic masculine how-dare-you-sleep-with-my-wife bullshit. he wants to kill him, i don’t doubt that, but he can’t. how can he? killing, torturing, and all that depravity belongs in the “heisenberg” part of his life. he cannot touch ted because he is as mundane as the life he is fronting. 

now, i will admit, the skyler affair storyline and jesse’s so-called adultery are really not that similar at all. like i said, jesse is not betraying anyone--he is still fiercely dedicated to mr. white. his unfaithfulness is only interpreted as much by walt himself, and it’s walt’s delusions drive him away in the first place. skyler cheats as a means of revenge, as a way to take back some autonomy that walt had stripped her of. however, it’s the way that walt handles these individual perfidies that’s so captivating to me. when deciding what to do with gus, he immediately decides he needs to kill him. this was his plan prior, but now it’s more dire. jesse is gone. he needs to kill two birds with one stone: win back jesse and kill gus. more importantly, he needs to show jesse that him killing gus was something he did for the both of them. so thus he embarks on this convoluted, deplorable, fucked-up scheme. and hey! it works. he successfully manipulates jesse once again, implanting in his brain that no one will have your best interests at heart but me. “gus had to go” and jesse has to agree because this pseudo-son is dying and mr. white is right there and he saved him right? he saved brock and he saved jesse and it doesn’t matter that their love has a body count. their reunion is so impactful because they’re like magnets in a way. the connection they share is so strong that it doesn’t matter how hard they fight or run away, they will cling to each other once more. but what’s devastating this time around is that jesse doesn’t have a leg to stand on with mr. white anymore. he almost fucking killed him and it turns out the “real” mastermind was gus all along. so he offers his submission as an apology, when mr. white holds out his hand he takes it because this is how he can say he’s sorry. and walt? how could he not fall in love all over again. he has jesse, freshly martyred and in his arms once again.