#husbands supporting their wives who are also wives

[lovesickhughes]

hi hi hi!

i’ve been thinking about times with quinn where you get to tag along to whatever cities he’s playing in 🥹

maybe he has a couple days off between games and the two of you get to explore a new place together, sure he’s been there before but your wife eyes put everything in a new light for quinn

talking tennesse | quinn hughes

a/n: thank you so much for requesting! i absolutely love this idea! i did indeed go a little bit crazy on this one- making it a full fic, but this idea really had me thinking about how lovely life would be with quinn hughes as your husband 🥹 i hope you enjoy!

pairings: quinn hughes x wife!reader

warnings: wives and girlfriends mentioned, please know i don't follow the canucks team, so all the WAGS mentioned are purely fictional and made up by me!

word count: 5.3k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Marriage comes with many aspects of happiness in all areas of your lives, but what you were most fulfilled with, was being able to spend the rest of your life, married to Quinn and being by his side as his biggest supporter of his career. Of course, it was a lifestyle you had grown to get used to, and was a big shift in your relationship when he was announced as captain of Vancouver, but nevertheless, being able to watch him succeed and play the game he loves, ultimately completed you as a being. 

A perk to Quinn’s career being a part of a national franchise, was the opportunities to travel to new cities alongside your newly pronounced husband. You were forever grateful to the team for their accommodations, but also appreciative towards Quinn who always made the extra effort to ensure you had the smoothest, and most safe travels to watch him play from such far distances from your home. 

Quinn and the Canucks were scheduled for a five-game road trip to the United States, playing every other day against Minnesota, Chicago, Columbus, St. Louis, ending their stretch on a Friday in Nashville, Tennessee before flying the far distance back to Vancouver for home games. 

Busy with other commitments, you had taken some time away from work to visit Quinn and watch his games against the Blues and Predators, scheduling your flights with Quinn a few months prior to make sure your schedules matched. 

Luckily enough, after their game in Nashville, the schedule had left them with a three day break, and their next practice being only two days after the last played game. When Quinn and you had realized he would have a few days off to relax, you both hopped on quickly to take advantage of being able to spend time together. 

—

You walked into your shared, Vancouver apartment, shrugging off your damp raincoat and hanging it on the hook that was placed to the left of the entrance. You slid your boots off and quickly dropped them next to the rack of shoes that were neatly organized before walking into the warm, aromatic environment with dimly lit lights creating a relaxed atmosphere that consumed you. 

Quinn was in the kitchen, the smell of food being cooked on the stove added to the aroma of your apartment, and you followed the scent as you turned the corner, revealing Quinn facing the stove, cooking what looked to be an assortment of veggies in one pan, while another pan cooked a seasoned chicken. 

A smile immediately rose to your face, the sight of your favourite brunette in a navy blue hoodie that looked two sizes too big, engulfing his frame, paired with black, baggy sweats, being the cause of your smile. The teddy bear look on Quinn elicited an excited swirl of adrenaline to rush through your body. And you absentmindedly walked up to his figure, sliding your arms around his torso from behind, his body immediately melting into yours at the contact. 

“Hi you,” you smiled up to meet Quinn’s gaze whose eyes already found your face, a soft expression written on his features. 

“Hey, how was work?” He asked immediately, Quinn turned in your grip and he maneuvered your two bodies slightly to the side to step away from the cooking food. His own hands met your waist, your black trousers descending in length to the ground and fabric pooling at your feet. His fingers toyed with the belt loop of your waistband, as he quickly reached down to peck your lips. 

You stood up tall in his embrace as you began to describe your day and all the small details about your commute, a meeting you had and a phone call with a client. As you continued, Quinn leaned against the marble countertop quietly and contently as he listened to you. It was one of his favourite things to do; to hear you talk, no matter what it was about. The energy you emitted just with hearing your voice and the passion and care behind it, was one of the main reasons Quinn knew he had to marry you. 

You had now made your way over to the fridge to grab a water bottle from one of the shelves, turning back around to take a seat on the island barstool, while Quinn went back to cooking, still actively listening to you talk. 

“Oh yeah, and I talked to my boss and she said I was more than good to take time off that weekend you’re in Nashville, so I’ll come down on the Wednesday night after your game in St. Louis and meet you at the hotel.” You said as you took a sip of water, rewarding your throat with moisture from all the words and speaking you had just produced. 

“That’s great, babe, we can do that tonight then.” Quinn said in regard to booking your flights. “Wanna make sure you get there as quickly and safely as possible.” He said, turning off the dial producing heat to cook the food. 

“Y’know it’s never a problem flying out, always smooth sailing.” You remarked, giggling a little at the slight spurge in Quinn’s protectiveness peering through. 

He hummed in response, “I know, just gotta make sure.” 

“Well,” you let out a breath as you stood to your feet, seeing Quinn was now dishing up each of your portions of dinner. “Thanks for being so considerate, Husband.” You said slyly as you walked up to him, bumping his hip with your own as you placed a quick kiss to his cheek before grabbing your plate and walking towards the small dining room to eat your meal together. 

—

The flight to Nashville was effortless, having slept for the majority of it, your baggage claim and commute from the airport to the hotel seemed to pass by as if you had only blinked. 

You checked into the hotel, reserved under Quinn and your name, and the day of travel had seemingly caught up to you, as you flopped on the large king mattress, coat and shoes still on, too exhausted to bother changing at the moment. 

After building up the courage to at least settle in for the night, you changed into a comfortable hoodie and lounge pants, pulling your hair up into a clip so it was out of your face and ordering a quick meal to eat while you caught the last few minutes of Quinn’s game in St. Louis. They were down 4-2 in the third period, desperately making an effort to make a comeback, but much to yours and the rest of the Canucks team and fans, they fell short at the end of regulation. 

You switched the channel to play in the background as you went to the attached bathroom and began getting ready for the night, and as you finished brushing your teeth, moving onto skincare, you heard the ringtone of your phone calling from the bed. 

Quickly, you shuffled to where the incoming call was being sent from, and you peered down at the phone, seeing the contact photo you had set for Quinn light across the screen. It was you and him on your wedding day, a black and white picture of him carefully leaning you backwards into a dip, his large hand spread over your back, and the smiles written across each of your faces as you looked deeply into one another’s eyes, encapsulated the exact feeling you experienced on that day, and spread to how you feel three-hundred and sixty-five days of the year, being with Quinn. 

You undoubtedly slide your finger on the screen to accept the call, and your screen is switched to be filled with Quinn’s tired, almost gloomy expression.

“Hey, honey,” you dragged out, lacing your tone with sympathy towards the recent loss. “How are you holding up?” You asked, walking back into the brightly lit bathroom, seeing the light reflect through the screen and onto Quinn’s face. 

He sighed, his distraught expression pulling at your heartstrings. “Could be better– it just sucks y’know? No one likes losing.” He explained. It was clear he was located somewhere quiet, most likely the bus given the slight background noise cutting through. 

“Yeah, I know. It’s never easy, but you guys have had a good road trip so far, I’m more than confident that you’ll close it out on a positive note in Nashville.” You reassured him. You knew it was hard on Quinn, losing and feeling an immense weight of pressure being the captain and holding himself and his teammates to certain standards and expectations, but you knew that sometimes– all Quinn needed was to talk and be with you. So you always let him. No matter the circumstance, you would listen when he just needed to get things off his chest, console him after a tough loss, and praise him in all the ways he deserved when they took home a big win. 

“Thanks, babe. I love you.” He said as you saw him run a hand through his messy, wet curls. “Plus, I get to spend the weekend with you in Nashville.” He added, a smile sounding through his voice at the thought of what was expected after the final game of their road trip. 

“You’re too sweet, you know that?” You asked, glancing at your phone as you finished your nighttime routine. 

“Of course, always wanna impress my girl.” He said proudly, a bright smile erupting on his face. 

You then found your way into the bed, pulling back the covers and sliding into the comfort of the mattress. It wasn’t long before Quinn and you ended the call, saying your goodnights and I love yous, and by the time you had turned off your phone and lights of the room, the only source coming from the TV that played in the back– you were deep into a much needed rest. 

It felt like mere minutes after your eyes fell heavy and into a deep sleep, when the sound of Quinn opening the door of the hotel and attempting to be as quiet as possible, stirred you in your sleep. 

You tried to ignore it, hearing the bustling around as Quinn probably unpacked his bag and changed out of his suit, and it wasn’t long before you felt the dip in the mattress as Quinn slid in next to you. 

“Are you awake?” He whispered, barely audible.

You groaned in response, wanting to maintain your state or tranquility, but you rolled over to face him, your eyes slightly squinting opening to peer at his face, but the exhaustion still laid heavy on you, so all you could gather was a stretch of your arm up to his shoulder that felt warm and bare.

Quinn adjusted under the weight of your arm, his own hand finding your side as he snuggled into your warm figure. And all you could process was the feeling of Quinn’s breaths against your body as your eyes fluttered back to their position and your mind fell unconscious. 

—

The warm, morning sun bled through the thin fabric of the curtains of the hotel room, a calm silence falling over as Quinn and you were fast asleep, the events from the previous night wiping all energy from you. 

As you slowly came to wake, you felt the presence of Quinn from behind you, his warm body emitting heat under the covers and spreading to you, as his front was pressed up against your back. Your eyes closed further than they already were as you cleared your blurry, sleep-filled vision, and you noticed the weight of Quinn’s arm, protectively wrapped around your torso. The heavy weight of his arm justified to you how exhausted Quinn was from the long travelling and disappointing loss the night before. 

To spare him, you avoid waking him up, rolling over to face him while under his grasp, and you slide your own arm over top of his shoulder and wrap it to entangle your fingers in his luscious brown curls. 

You dozed off, back into your slumber as you fell content with the feeling of being so close to Quinn, and an hour had passed before you both began to stir, Quinn’s grip on your side tightening as he stretched under the sheets. 

“Morning, pretty.” Quinn greeted with a tired smile on his face. His eyes were barely open, avoiding the blinding light of the sun that shone through into the room, and you peck his lips in response, taking your hand and pushing away the stray strands of his hair that fell onto his face. 

“G’morning, babe. How did you sleep? I barely heard you come in last night– when did you get in?” You perked, sitting up in the bed, still under the plush duvet of the hotel bed, as Quinn’s arm fell to your hip, grasping at the love handle. It was one of the things you loved most about Quinn– his desire to always touch you. 

Whether it was while you two were at home, in your own comfort watching a movie and he’d rub gentle, sweet nothings on your shoulder as he wrapped his arm around you, the fabric of your hoodie rubbing against your skin that sent waves of excitement rushing through your body. Or even when you attended parties or events being held by the hockey team. Alongside Quinn, when talking with fellow teammates and management members, the feeling of Quinn’s hand spread on the small of your back as he was deeply invested in a conversation.

You briefly glance at the hand on your hip, following it up his arm to his face, taking in the sight of a tired Quinn– messy hair, only covered with a pair of sweat shorts and nothing else. You wanted nothing more than to pounce at the sight, but you knew there were plans in order, other than spending the entire day in the sheets. 

“I think I got in around three, not too bad, but still. You were passed right out,” He chuckled, closing his eyes momentarily to reminisce at the sight from last night. “But I slept well, I’m ready for our day today.” He nodded towards you, a smile erupting on your face at the mention of what brought you to Nashville. 

Not only would you be catching the game this evening, Quinn and you, along with a few other members of the Canucks and their wives and/or girlfriends, all decided to venture to the infamous Broadway Street in Nashville– known for its amazing live music bars and entertainment. 

You rolled out of bed excitedly, jumping a slight amount as you walked over to the bathroom to begin getting ready by preparing to shower. “I’m so looking forward to it,” you called to Quinn who was still laid in bed, “Natalie was telling me about a live performance at the one place we booked the reso for, so I’m super excited to see the show.” You smiled to yourself, anticipating the events that were soon approaching. 

You briskly showered, finishing in what seemed like record time and Quinn soon followed suit, stepping into the warm bathroom to get ready. As you began your makeup routine, he quickly showered, stepping out in nothing but a hotel towel, hung loosely around his waist, inevitably catching your attention. 

Quinn only chuckled, knowing you like the back of his hand, and slid his arm around your side, squeezing the skin as he placed a soft, wet kiss against your neck, making you inhale sharply in response. 

Quinn had practice before tonight’s game against the Predators, so while he was with his team for the majority of the day, you planned to spend it alongside the other wives and girlfriends of the players– going for brunch and then touring a few of the wineries a few other girls had mentioned. 

It wasn’t long before Quinn and you parted ways, bidding your farewells and making sure each one of you were satisfied with the amount of kisses and hugs exchanged. Quinn, of course, was the one who desired a few more before he left, but you were quick to lightheartedly protest, pushing him out of the hotel room. 

—

Brunch was fantastic, the girls had their fair share of breakfast mimosas along with a delicious meal, and the wineries occupied their afternoon before they all commuted to the arena for the game this evening. 

You were sat with Natalie, Cassandra and Ashley, some of the girlfriends you had grown close to over the years of Quinn being in Vancouver, and you both being together. 

You were dressed in navy blue jeans and a cream-coloured blouse, alongside a black, leather jacket with a large number ‘43’ embroidered into the back with the Canucks logo stitched in as well– the jacket being gifted from the team to all the players' significant others. On your feet, you styled a pair of cowgirl boots, ones you had specifically picked out with Quinn for this trip, and you had admired your outfit for a few extra minutes before leaving earlier in the day to brunch. 

“I’m so excited for tonight,” Cassandra exhaled, turning around in her seat to face the rest of the group who squished together in the backseat, “and I must say– we all look so hot right now, the guys aren’t gonna know what to do with themselves!” She exclaimed, earning a laugh from everyone else. 

“I know! And I love all our matching jackets, I’m definitely posting something for this trip.” Ashley responded. You nodded in agreement, a bright smile of excitement written all over your face, as you dropped your attention to your phone in your hand, a blank message to Quinn waiting to be sent. 

It was a game day ritual, sending your good luck charm and cheering him on, even if it was just over the phone– you knew it meant a lot. 

Y/n

Goodluck tn, babe. I love you! Go kill it 💙

Closing your phone and watching the scenery pass by as the sun began to set and nighttime was slowly inching around the horizon, you felt a buzz from your phone, and you didn’t even look to know who the notification was from. 

—

The game had been an intense, energy-filled forty minutes. Nashville and Vancouver were tied after two periods, and it was now time for the last twenty minutes of regulation to achingly pass by in anticipation to declare a winner. 

You could tell the team was tired, the long stretch of road games, against intense teams and long days of travel– it was starting to catch up on everyone, but you were more than sure the team had it in them to close this one off. 

After the intense battle, the Canucks were able to seal off the win, scoring another two goals in the last twenty minutes, one of the goals being scored by the one and only. The few Vancouver fans excitedly cheered at the win, while Nashville fans began to clear out of the stands, the group of wives and girlfriends holding back in their section of seats before making their way to where the players would depart. 

You stood with Ashley and Natalie, the pair being immersed in their phones most likely putting together a post from today’s adventure, and you also found yourself scrolling through your feed while you waited impatiently to see your favourite brunette turn around the corner of the dressing room hallway. 

It wasn’t long before the players began making their way out of the dressing room, their amped up energy filling the atmosphere, leaving everyone on their toes for ways to celebrate and close out their road trip on a high note. You watched eagerly as each player carried their large hockey bag over their shoulder and placed it near the pile where they would later be sent off, then each hockey player going to greet their guests. 

Just as you were putting your phone away into your purse, you heard the familiar voice appear louder as the man behind the voice approached the exit. Catching your attention, you look up from your side to see the only face you couldn’t wait to be greeted with, Quinn’s glory radiating off his face at the victorious game. He quickly shuffled over to the bag area, slipping off his heavy duffel bag to the floor before turning his entire body in your direction– his face almost immediately lighting up further than it had been mere seconds ago. 

He walked proudly over to where you stood, arms reaching out to pull you into his embrace, as a smile of your own broke out on your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your head falling into the crook of his collarbone as you two reconnected after being apart since earlier in the day. 

“Good job, my love,” you mumbled against the skin of his neck. His hands that were placed near your ribs, fell down your sides to your hips, gripping your sides with intent as he pulled away from your hug to meet your eyes. “You did so amazing today.” You smiled, even the words falling off your tongue making you feel proud of your boy. 

“Thank you, baby.” He quipped, meeting your gaze as you looked into his, a soft smile falling over his face as he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your lips. When you feel the contact, his warm, soft lips sending shocks of energy through your body, you feel Quinn’s hands against you tug in a way that speaks thousands of words without needing to. 

Just from the kiss and his touch, you know he is grateful to have you cheering him on, and being there after the game to congratulate him. You both knew, being busy with your own careers, it wasn’t often that you two would be able to spend a weekend away together during the regular season of hockey. So, the fact that you were here, waiting for him after the game and having plans for the rest of the night, you both knew was something you would cherish immensely. 

The plan was set that after the game, the group of hockey players and their wives and girlfriends would head to dinner at a restaurant close to the Broadway strip, before attending a few country bars and enjoying the rest of the night with live music. 

“Ready to head out?” Quinn asked, his arm still wrapped around your waist as you stood with the rest of the group in the arena. 

You hummed in response, “mhm. I’m excited for the rest of tonight.” You smiled softly, leaning your head on Quinn’s shoulder. 

Minutes passed by quickly as everyone cleared out of the arena, everyone driving separately to their hotels to quickly change and get ready for the night out in Nashville. Quinn had changed into a pair of jeans, paired with a white t-shirt that had a beer branded on it, along with his go-to pair of white sneakers. While for you, changed into light pink floral sundress and kept the same pair of cowgirl boots on to pair with the dress. Since the sun had well set hours ago and the chill of the night had taken over, you made sure to slip on a boyfriend-style jean jacket to give yourself an extra layer of warmth.

After freshening up, hand-in-hand with Quinn, you both walked down to the lobby of the hotel, waiting for Natalie and Tyler to make their way to the front and meet you to leave for the night out. 

It wasn’t long before Natalie greeted you, pulling you into a tight hug, even though it hadn’t been long since you last saw her– it was the dynamic you two shared and grew over time. 

With the uber waiting outside, you all begin to walk out, Tyler and Natalie walking ahead of Quinn and you, and you look over in the direction of your husband when you feel the touch of his hand on the small of your back as you walk outside to the car. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” Quinn smiled softly, rubbing his hand up and down your back and you turned your body to lean into him, a hand coming to place on his broad chest. 

“You’re too sweet, I love you.” You grin as you give Quinn a quick peck on the lip. You slide into the uber, Quinn following in behind and shutting the door once he was situated and the ride began shortly after.

As you all conversed together, you chatted here and there, but mainly listened, loving the sound of Quinn proudly speaking about things the two of you had done recently, or whatever the topic of conversation was. You let him talk, not minding the silence, and also being entranced by his charismatic persona. His hand was placed firmly on your exposed knee, caressing the skin and making your body heat up in response. You were always mindful of the fact Quinn still had his charm and ways of making you feel so full of love. 

By the time you arrived at dinner, the majority of the others were already seated, greeting the four of you as you entered and found your seats at the large table. The restaurant was country themed, as expected, the walls covered with memorabilia of the history of Nashville and its popular musical history. Once you were comfortable in your seats and the server came around, the four of you had requested a round of drinks and a meal for each of you that had called your name as you looked over what the restaurant had to offer. 

As you ate, drank and caught up with the team, Quinn’s arm was splayed on the back of your chair, every so often running his hand up to your shoulder to give a soft squeeze of reassurance. 

You were deeply immersed in a conversation with one of the girlfriend’s of the players who you were sat across, about the new hair product she had just tried and highly recommended when Quinn’s hand found the small of your back once again and you felt the warmth of his presences increase as he leaned in closer to you. 

“I’m gonna run to the washroom, okay? You good? Need anything?” He asked softly in your ear over the loud noise of the audience in the restaurant and the music that played over the speakers. You smiled softly at him and nodded, reaching your own hand to his forearm where you gave a reconfirming tug that you were content. 

The blonde from across from you cooed at the interaction, “You two are so adorable, almost about time you start making some mini version of each other!” She exclaimed. You let out a laugh at her remark, knowing that was a hot topic of conversation for a lot of people in your and Quinn’s lives. Your parents and even Quinn’s had started to ask the question of when you two were going to start having kids, and of course it was something you talked about, but you both had agreed it was something that you would wait on, and the right timing would come when necessary. 

Ashley’s head popped up at the conversation, quirking her head to the side in amusement and a smile beginning to break through. 

“Oh, what are we talking about?” She eagerly pressed, leaning in your direction. You only shook your head and rolled your eyes at her excitement. Ashley had recently given birth to a beautiful boy, Carter, and ever since she had her first, she had incessantly pried at when it was going to be your turn to have a little one welcomed into the world. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you laughed at Ashley’s interest, earning quick nods from her. “We’ve definitely talked about it.” You responded to the initial question. 

“Talked about what?” You heard from behind you, as Quinn found his seat again, his arm immediately taking its place on the back of your chair. 

“How you two would make the most beautiful babies and should definitely give Carter a little best friend.” Ashley responded in a sing-song voice, fighting the urge to let out a giggle. 

Quinn hums and tilts his head back slightly, “Ah, I see. Well, then yes, we’ve definitely talked about it, but I wouldn’t mind having a little one sometime soon.” He smiled towards Ashley who looked like she could almost burst from excitement. Quinn’s hand found your thigh, giving a quick squeeze to grasp your attention and you looked over towards him, a knowing look in his eyes. 

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, knowing what the certain look he gave meant. It was similar to the one when he would reassure you in moments where you needed support, the look when he would make sure you were honest with him with your needs. Even the look he gave when he first asked you to be his girlfriend, the first time he said he loved you and the time he asked you to marry him. 

Who knew one small look from the man who changed your life completely, could mean such an array of things. 

—

Later that night, after dinner had wrapped up and you all began your journey to some of the famous country bars on the strip of Broadway, Quinn and you walked together with your hands tightly intertwined, swaying back and forth with each step. 

You entered the one bar, live music filling the room with the sound of country music hitting your ears. You had followed the group to the bar, ordering one of their specials before finding a small table to stand around. Quinn’s arm tightly wrapped around your waist, holding you close to his side and his warmth radiating off of him, left you in a content state of peace. You looked up to Quinn, meeting his gaze which was so loving and endearing you knew he was so appreciative to be here with the person he loved more than you would ever know, and when a slow, love song was introduced by the live band and you excitedly urged him to slow dance with you, he without a doubt followed the drag of your hand in his towards then open dance floor. 

His hands found your waist and your arms locked behind his neck, his forehead leaning down against yours as you listened to the band cover Morgan Wallen’s “Chasin’ You”. You swayed back and forth, letting the music bring you into a trance of pure bliss as the world enclosed around the two of you.

When the song ended, Quinn’s eyes that had fell shut, opened to look down at you, and he instinctively placed a soft, wet kiss against your lips, the taste of his drink spilling into your own mouth as your hands tugged softly at the soft tips of his brown curls. 

“I love you so much, I’m so glad we’re here right now.” Quinn said softly, earning a smile to tug on your face as your stomach did a flip and heart skipped a beat at his words. 

“Me too.” You whispered softly, pulling yourself into his embrace and resting your head against his chest, still swaying. Quinn placed a delicate kiss to the top of your head, your hands now intertwined again on either side of you. 

“I want nothing more than to spend more time with you exploring places like this, and even expanding our family.” He said pulling away and giving that same, familiar look in his gaze. 

Your one eyebrow raised in question, “Is that so?” You pressed jokingly, as you couldn’t help but smile in such adoration for the brunette. 

“More than.” He smiled, pulling you into another tight, warm embrace.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed! feel free to send in requests! 🫶🏻

[dewey-ing-it]

Behold: Husbands

[franzsiska]

penelope and clytemnestra are often seen as literary foils to each other, the ever-devoted loyal wife vs the cheating, scheming, disloyal one. but i think it's more interesting to see it in the way that these two women are so different because their husbands are so different from each other

[violetsandshrikes]

I met a girl when I was fresh out of high school in undergrad who frankly, annoyed me quite a bit, but I also had an inkling to continue to be compassionate to her given a few things about her life/background/family

I ran into her two years ago. Last week, her daughter turned 1. This girl, let’s called her “P”, is a really good example of why I never feel comfortable mocking trad wives

Her perfect trad husband, who was a shining young figure in the local religious community, volunteered in all sorts of groups, well loved in his workplace and everything else, beat her up at 1 month post-partum. I reached out to her after seeing her desperately asking for a stroller on a page, confused and slightly concerned knowing both of them came from wealthy backgrounds.

The reality for lots of tradwives living “perfect lives” is this: P was immediately ostracised. All the wealth of her husband and her family meant absolutely nothing if she wasn’t in favour and doing what she was told. Her child and her well-being didn’t matter. P, at 25 years old, was basically deemed an oopsie, and left on her own to figure out how to pay for herself, a baby, find housing, and every other task you can think of.

Having known many of these women (and supported many of these women), another factor most people don’t consider is this: they are intentionally raised to be helpless. When I immediately offered my support to P, she really needed it. This young woman needed to be guided through how to apply for government assistance, how to weigh up rentals and apply for them, how to apply for jobs, how to sign up for childcare. How to sign up for your own power and internet, and how to connect them.

It wasn’t that she was “stupid”, or incapable, or spoiled. While it looks like they’re being sheltered, in reality, these women are practically being held hostage. Sure, they might be allowed to learn things that are expected of them (see: basic cooking, baking, cleaning, child rearing, women’s bible studies, hosting, and so forth) but they are heavily controlled from family life into marriage life, and they are never given the opportunity or the reality of what many of us would consider basic adult tasks.

She’s doing okay now. Her daughter turned 1, is happy and healthy. They live frugally, but they have a roof over their heads and the essentials. I often babysit for her so she can attend counselling, or go to a woman’s support group. She is painfully aware that she has so much to learn about how to live as an adult.

I don’t envy tradwives, but I don’t find any joy in mocking them either. Even when they live the most picturesque lives, they’re also practically living a real life Jenga game. If (and often, when) it comes tumbling down, they’re screwed too, and they often have 0 skills to help themselves or find community (that again, isn’t carefully curated).

[cloudabserk]

the sexism in naruto is actually so crazy and all encompassing. every female character is defined by her relationship to men. the majority are boy-crazy. and it’s constantly remarked upon how weak they are when compared to their male teammates.

not only that but the main male characters actively dislike the women they’ve been paired off with. shikamaru is into temari but his infinite dream is not having to marry her. sai ends up with ino despite finding her ugly. naruto thinks hinata is weird and boring. sasuke’s dislike of sakura is infamous.

adult men’s interest in women is seen as comical and alien. (reactions to the sexy jutsu, jiraiya harassing women). almost all of the adult men are perpetual bachelors or sex perverts (and those who aren’t are stand ins for “mom and dad”).

when boys actually do like girls, it’s to show goofy immaturity and innocence (naruto’s crush on sakura that he grows out of as he reaches maturity, lee’s crush which is dropped entirely, obitos crush on rin which lasts into adulthood just to show he isn’t entirely separate from the boy he once was)

the whole ninja society likes to imagine it is a mostly gender blind world where women can thrive but this is SO obviously untrue. women are almost always healers and support. women make up less than 1/3 of the ninjas even at genin level. girls are almost all desperate to become wives and earn the attention of boys who don’t even like them!

mikoto uchiha was a jonin and presumably directly descended from the uchiha line (based on characters commenting that she/sasuke look just like izuna uchiha), but we only ever see her retired and raising her sons while her husband gets to be clan leader. (why?? if he married into the main family and she is an extremely capable ninja??)

similarly kushina uzumaki is borderline royalty and a jinchuriki, but her husband is hokage. once again the mother carries on the burden of power (for her sons to inherit) but the father has the title and status.

even the backstory of ninja enforces this. kaguya literally ate the forbidden fruit, giving the gift of chakra to all of humanity but also dooming them to fight for eternity. literally womens original sin …

anyway it’s not that all this sexist shit is in the story. it’s that kishimoto seemingly has no idea it’s there and believes the women he writes have epic girl power. how do you even do this by accident. why does every boy hate their wife. why did kaguya commit the original sin ! the girl characters want so badly to be with a boy but they don’t even care that the boy doesn’t like them back!! sakura and hinata are in loveless marriages of obligation and THEY DONT EVEN CARE??? they’re into it??? does kishimoto think men are universally forced to marry women they don’t like? does he blame women for this?WHY IS THE ORIGINAL SIN DRIVING THE BUS ALL THE SUDDEN?

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Winter (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

Warnings: Mature language. Grief. Toddlers. Unreliable narrators. Miscommunication.

A/N: I was so excited about this chapter! These scenes are the ones I wrote first. Also, the biggest hug to anyone who is reading this. I had not expected the amount of love my first chapter got, and I am so grateful!

THERE WAS AN old northern superstition —more like an old wives’ tale, really— that said if there was snow on the wedding day, the marriage was doomed to be a cold one.

It hadn’t been snowing the day Cregan had married you, but his marriage was proving to be icier than the lands beyond the wall. You weren’t interested in spending time with him at all, and you actively tried to avoid him. He had tried to convince you to share rooms, trying to foster some intimacy, to no avail.

Cregan had hoped that if not a loving wife, he would get a caring mother to Rickon. The boy was too small to grow without one, not yet having reached his third nameday. But you hadn’t shown interest in that either. Instead, you pretended the two of them didn’t exist.

He would like to say that the days went on the same way they did before he wed you, but it would be a lie. Winterfell ran much better now there was a lady present. Cregan had been wrong about you. It seemed like you could run a keep, and you did so with ruthless efficiency.

The castle had never been warmer, the meals so well planned. Even the servants seemed happy, now that they didn’t have to follow Cregan’s too broad instructions. It seemed that asking them to clean and cook was a little too vague for their tastes.

As for you, grief still followed you around, like a too long shadow that refused to budge even in the face of Winterfell’s brightest light. Sara had befriended you, with little success. While you had been far more welcoming to her, you still looked constantly tired and sad.

The lack of sunlight had made you lose your southron tan, leaving you with a look of quiet frailty that made Cregan want to wrap you in a thousand blankets and keep you safe. He just was unsure of the execution.

You scared him. He was man enough to admit it. People were often afraid of things they didn’t understand, and Cregan was no exception. You were made of absolute ice. There was no better description. Cold, but as fragile as glass.

He was running out of ideas on how to bond with you. Invitations to tea were denied, nor did you want to ride with him to see his tenants. You seemed at ease enough around Sara, and some other northern ladies, so social interaction wasn’t what you disliked. It was him.

Never had Winterfell’s corridors been filled with so many women. The northern lords already called you Queen Alysanne’s second coming, with your all female court. The only thing missing was your husband. You didn’t have Cregan’s ear, simply because you didn’t wish to. He would support your endeavors if you asked him to. He had offered his help with your attempts to establish a charity, since the North didn’t have Septas to take care of it, but you had proudly rebuffed him.

There was no pleasing you. He was at his wits’ end. Hence, the awful choice he had made that day.

To try to force you to be in his company.

“Why are you ordering my servants around?” You complain, barging into his chambers. While usually the kitchens were the domain of the Lady of the household, Cregan didn’t know you took it so seriously. “Do you not think me capable enough?”

“I do!” Cregan sits up in his bed, bewildered. He had given the orders around lunchtime, hoping you would not find out, yet here you were, less than half a day later. Far more soon than he had expected. “I just want to throw a feast to honor you.”

“You intend to honor me by giving me more work?” You place your hands on your hips, highlighting your figure, and Cregan is but a man. He cannot help himself, his eyes lingering for a second too long, and his brain coming with no response to your statement.

You seem to take his silence for affirmation.

“Seriously? Do you at least have a guest list?”

And your tone is so haughty, your words betraying you believe Cregan to be an absolute imbecile, he cannot help but give a heated retort.

“Of course I have. Truly, I am more than capable of organizing it on my own. Arra let me do it a few times, and I was unmarried for quite a while. I am experienced enough to…”

It is the wrong thing to say. You bare your fangs then, and Cregan has a moment of absolute and utter clarity. You are not a seahorse. Such a puny creature could never hope to deliver the utter destruction that you cause with your next words.

“Yes, and your precious Arra is dead! She is gone! Why can’t you understand it?” You turn on your heel, face absolutely thunderous, and go to rush out of his chambers.

Cregan loses his head fully, then. He grabs you by the arm, hard enough to hurt, and forces you to face him. For a frightening moment, he fears himself. Fears the wolf, the one screaming for him to strike you and remind you of your place.

How dare you come in his chambers, uninvited, after rejecting all his offers of companionship, to lecture him on grief? As if he could forget Arra was dead. It wasn’t so long ago that Rickon cried for his mother still, unable to understand why he didn’t have one. It wasn’t so long ago that Sara had to take over the role of Lady of the House, and suffered mockery from it. And it wasn’t so long ago, Cregan woke with a scream choked in his throat, reliving that awful morning in every dream he had.

He still did, sometimes. Less, now that he had more urgent matters to occupy himself with. Cregan was ashamed to admit it, but before Jacaerys and your arrival here, Winterfell had been far too empty to keep the ghosts away.

Now, with the war, and the flurry of activities that seemed to follow you, Cregan had little time to dwell much in his dark thoughts. Throwing himself into his work had allowed him to begin healing a wound he wasn’t even aware existed.

And wasn’t that a terrible thought? That Cregan was a man who thrived on war and hunger? Winter was coming, after all. It wouldn’t catch him unprepared.

He had sworn a vow to protect you. As long as Jacaerys had no children, you were third in line to the Iron Throne. To think of hurting you was not only to think of staining his honor, but to think of treason.

Cregan holds you there for a second longer, curious about your reaction. His grip must be bruising on your arm, he can feel the delicate bones under your flesh shift with how hard he is holding you. Yet, you show no fear. Your hands are balled into fists.

Were he to strike, you would strike back. Your face is the very picture of anger, your body coiled and ready to tear him apart.

He throws the feast. You sit next to him in icy silence and somehow manage to speak and dance with all the guests but him.

Cregan does no longer dream of trying to hunt a seahorse. Instead, he sees the world at a much lower angle than usual, and runs for his life. Somehow, in the dream, he knows a dragon is hunting him.

OF COURSE IT is today. The only day you actually wish your Lord Husband to be in the castle, and he is not.

You had spent many of your days fervently praying for him to leave on an errand, and yet, the day he does, you cannot even enjoy it.

Because the boy has gotten sick. And look, you have visited the nursery before, it is a part of your duties. You also cannot deny that you had been curious about the tiny version of your husband that will inherit everything.

The boy is cute, you suppose. In the manner all babes are. He is well-behaved, and quiet, and takes well to his teachings, even if they involve only naming things aloud.

Had you not hardened your heart to it already, you would want one of your own. You know, though, that their only inheritance will be tears and petty squabbles over land, so it’s best they are not born at all. It had been so between your husband’s father and uncle, and it was being so between your mother and your uncle Aegon.

The only assurance a woman has in a life spent as little more than property is her children. They are to inherit their father’s lands, and that is supposed to be enough. But for the second sons, said promise is always broken.

You had never, not once, thought you would come to understand Alicent, yet here you were.

You reflect on this as you hurry to the nursery, worried the damn boy will die before you reach it. When you get there, you feel the urge to scream. There is not one, but three serving girls hovering by the door, and the Maester is mixing some herbs in a chalice.

The child sleeps peacefully, unaware the surrounding turmoil. He looks impossibly small in his bed of furs, shirt open and chest covered in strange poultices. The boy… No, Rickon, had taken ill after the first snow. Perhaps he had been spending too much time playing outside, or he lingered too much in his wet clothes. You wouldn't know. You tried to avoid him as much as you could.

After this was over, you would have a stern talk with his maids. They shouldn’t be this careless. This was your husband’s heir. Someone had to care about him.

Not you. Never you.

“Will he be alright?” You ask, as the Maester places a wet cloth on his forehead. You have never liked children, never having had the chance to be one yourself. Your mother’s constant quest for the Iron Throne and her love for Daemon had often left you in the hands of the help. And when you were old enough, you had to take the role of the mature sibling alongside Jacaerys, helping raise your brothers.

Jacaerys. You hoped that wherever he was, he was suffering. You despised this place, and he had dared plot with your mother behind your back to get you here. With your beast of a husband, and this child of a previous marriage, whose existence would forever ensure your future children would inherit nothing.

You weren’t going to have children. Despite loving children, you despise your husband too much to ever lay with him. But most of all, you are beginning to fear you will become a damn Hightower. You feared that if you had children and faced the prospect of them only being second sons, you might be tempted to start a war too.

“He will, Princess.” The Maester, unaware of your inner turmoil, places a reassuring hand on your arm. He surely believes in the gentle hearts of women, or some nonsense like that. “The fever will lower with the tea we gave him, and the cool cloth on his forehead. His lungs are strong. He will breathe normally soon.”

The boy’s chest flutters oddly. His ribs show with each inhale, depicting his trouble breathing. You cast a dubious look at the cool cloth. If this was all they could do, it was no wonder your grandfather had been rotting alive.

“Is that all you have to say? Why do his ribs show?” You do your best to channel your mother, tone imperious. “If this is truly…” Before you can insult him by calling him the worst the Citadel has to offer, a boy comes in. You let out a sigh of relief, your desire to berate the Maester subsiding. It’s the same boy you had sent to Castle Cerwyn to retrieve your husband.

“Princess!” He says, extending a hand to you. Much to your astonishment, he hands back the message you had sent to Lord Cregan. “I have grievous news. The road to Castle Cerwyn is fully blocked. I couldn’t get past the river. I cannot go over it either and avoid the forest, for it is not fully frozen.”

“This cannot be!” You say, crossing your arms over your chest. Cursed your husband, and his plans to visit the Cerwyns’ tenants today, of all days. “You have to get Lord Cregan. Send a more experienced rider.”

“My lady, I would advise not to.” The Maester says, meekly. “Even if the rider does manage to get past, it is very likely Lord Stark is in the village, snowed in.”

“Well, then send a damn search party!” You yell, uncaring your language is unbecoming of a Princess. You cannot be here while the child… While Rickon dies. The child has a parent, and it is your husband, you do not even care for him!

“It is not as simple.” The Maester cringes when you turn on him.

“Of course it isn’t. The only simple thing is the cure for the child’s malady, isn’t it?” You growl. “Do something useful, if you think a rider cannot reach my husband. Get me someone who can, and fix the boy.”

It would be easier for you if the boy died. You could have the children you so craved. The obstacle would have removed itself. Relationships between half brothers are never as strong as between full ones. At the very least, this child could cast out you and any children you birth when Lord Cregan passes. At the very worst, he might have them killed, as your mother intended with her usurper brother.

But you are not so craven as to let an innocent die. He is still a boy, no older than three namedays. He is vulnerable, and his father is not here.

You sit next to the bed, eyes fixed on his chest. Rickon will not die on your watch.

THE SOUND OF a door opening jerks you awake. Disoriented, you sit up on your chair, and check that Rickon still breathes.

He does. He has awakened with the sound of the door opening, just as you did. But unlike you, he has begun wailing. You get him. You would like to cry too.

“What is it?” You snarl at the serving girl who dared enter in such a manner. The sound of Rickon’s cries grate in your ears, shrill and loud, awakening you fully. You try to coax him into laying back down to no avail.

“Milady…” She stammers, holding a breakfast tray. The reason for her interruption becomes clear. Had it been so long already? You remembered standing vigil over Rickon until sundown, and changing the cool compress a few times after, but no further. By the Seven, you were a terrible caretaker. “I… There are…”

Rickon wails harder.

“Father! Father, want father!” He cries. He then attempts to remove the cool cloth from his forehead, and get up, escaping the furs laid over him.

The serving girl stares at the boy. You stare at her. Rickon continues to squirm. When it is clear she is expecting you to soothe him, you sigh and turn to the child.

“Rickon, you have to lay down again.”

“Father! Father!” He wails, face beginning to turn red, his breathing labored. You are unsure if it is his distress or the sickness, but it worries you nonetheless. The child cannot die. You are not prepared to deal with it.

“Shh, Rickon, I know you are hurting.” You tell him, as you pick him up. “Father is not here. He is trapped by the snow.”

At this, he cries harder. You can hear him gasping for air as he squirms in your arms and kicks at you. His snot is getting everywhere. Good Gods, what if he dies? Would your husband actually force you consummate the marriage if he loses his heir? The thought alone is enough to force you into action.

“He is not trapped. He is snowed in, just as when you cannot go out and play. Happens all the time.” You reassure him, rubbing his back. You know your words to be a lie, but the boy doesn’t. The weather has been especially rough this season. The snow storm is unusual in its fierceness. “He will be back soon.”

Rickon perks up at that.

“He will?”

“As soon as he can.” You promise, hoping it is the case. In truth, you do not know. Your husband is unaware Rickon is ill, and holds no fondness for you. You doubt he will be rushing once the road clears. In fact, you think he might be celebrating the weather and praising his northern gods for the excuse to get a respite from you.

Well, too bad. You would send men each hour to check if the storm waned and the road was accessible once more. He would have to come and tend to his child.

“Where is father?” Rickon asks you, a suspicious look in his little face. He is eerily similar to your husband. His sobs have turned more subdued.

“With Lord Cerwyn.”

“Why? Hurts! Father!” The boy demands, petulantly. He is clearly feeling better if his lungs allow him to shriek like that. You are no healer, but his agitation is worrying you. What if he has a fit because he overexerted himself and then dies?

“I want your father too.” You mutter under your breath. “You do not see me wailing.”

“I love father.” He sobs. “Want him.”

And you are not made of stone. You have never been, no matter how hard you pretend. He is still a babe, hands chubby, face round. He still smells like one, a mix of the nursery, and sweet innocence.

Without even realizing it, you have cradled him into your arms and begun rocking the two of you. He keeps wailing, so you begin singing.

“I loved a maid…” There is no need to be a good singer to soothe babies. You are unsure of what they like about it, but you know it works. It had worked for Aegon and Viserys, why not for Rickon? “As fair as summer, who had sunlight in her hair….”

You begin to rock him as you pace through the room. As his tears begin to subside, and he begins to grow curious about the soft song, you realize he is not the threat to your future children you had envisioned. Rickon is beautiful in the manner all babes are, soft and sweet. His little fists cling to your wool cloak, gray eyes meeting yours with fascination.

Charmed by him, you keep singing. Seasons of my love is enlarged and repeated ten times over, and now includes verses about northern babies who look exactly like their father.

“I loved a boy…” You hum, softly. It feels like hours have passed when Rickon’s eyes finally begin to drop. Of course he would enjoy the verses about winter the most. “As white as winter, with moonglow in his hair.”

The door opens, slowly. You hear the wood groan as it does, but Rickon takes no notice. He burrows his head next to your heart, yawning.

You turn to look at the newcomer, pleased that having put the fear of the gods into the maid who had dared enter before had proven fruitful. The pleased smile drops from your face when you realize it is your husband.

Lord Stark is drenched to the bone. His hair is stuck to his head and shoulders, dripping water onto his furs. The cloak he had worn is wet, and he is quick to remove it, leaving him in simple breeches and a jerkin. His face is the picture of worry.

“I rode as hard as I dared.” His voice is low, pleasantly so. You had never considered the northern accent he sported attractive, but when his voice is gruff, and pitched low, you might see the appeal. “How is he?”

He shouldn’t have bothered with the low tone. Rickon would recognize his voice everywhere because he perks up considerably.

“Father! Father!” Rickon claps. He attempts turning in your grip to look at your husband, which makes you fear he might fall, so you perch him on your hip so he can do so.

“The fever has broken.” You hand Rickon back to him, feeling a hint of embarrassment when his eyes linger on the way you had been holding him. “He’ll live.”

“Thank you.” And his voice is earnest and soft, and it makes you wonder what he sees when he looks at you. Is it her still? Does Arra Norrey stand in this room with you, too?

The embarrassment from earlier, and the anger at the thought of your husband being soft because you remind him of her make you snap at him.

“It’s fine. I missed my siblings.” You cross your arms over your chest, awkward. Why does he keep staring at you? Is he… Oh, by the Seven, he is smiling at you? So softly? You cannot stand it. “I will send for a bath for you and Rickon, after washing myself. Less I catch a cold too.”

Look, princesses do not flee. They simply walk hurriedly. Very hurriedly.

[martian-astro10]

D9/ Navamsa chart observations - Part 2

Moon AND saturn in the 4th is a very strong indicator of an arrange marriage. (especially, if you're from a place where it's common. Even if you're from the west, your parents will be the one to first notice your partner or they could be a family friend's child) (the situation can be similar to the series "the summer i turned pretty")

Moon in 5th can give you a partner who is very good at taking care of kids. It works the best when moon is in cancer or taurus. (if you're a woman and you have this, then you're truly blessed. Your husband is gonna be very supportive during pregnancy, and won't have the "women are supposed to take care of kids, men are supposed to work" mentality and I Consider this to be a win)

(saturn in 5th gives you a spouse who is more "disciplinarian", the parent who is more authoritative, basically the bad cop, whereas moon in 5th gives you a spouse who is more of a "coddler", the parent to whom the children go to when they want to complain about the other parent, the good cop. Remember, both have to work together to raise a good kid)

Mars in 1st, if unafflicted can give really good results, you will have all the good qualities of mars- responsible, productive, healthy, passionate. But if in taurus, libra or cancer, or aspected by malefic planets, then you'll constantly pick fights with your spouse and also if the person who has this is a man.......then (i always tell women not to marry a guy if he has afflicted Mars in 1st in d9)

The Mars in 1st can be controlled if saturn is also there in 1st, but it's better if your AC is in capricorn or aquarius, because this will give you a spouse who is mature and can tame that Mars in 1st energy but if the AC is in cancer or aries then your spouse may leave because of your anger issues or they may just stop loving you.

Sun in 7th means that you'll have a dominating spouse, but in a good or a bad way depends on your d1. Unlike with sun in 4th, this works better when you and your spouse both are dominant. If you are a Mars, Sun, or Jupiter dominant then this placement is good, but if you are a mercury, Venus or saturn dominant, then you'll feel suffocated in your married life and your spouse may not be able to understand your emotions. (it's better when sun is in leo, aries or sagittarius)

(just act like you can't see that mark on srk's face, I couldn't remove it😖😖)

Venus in 3rd can give you a super flirty spouse, if Venus is in aries or scorpio then your partner can have a wandering eye 🥲 (sory) but if it's in taurus, libra or pisces then... CUTE. I've seen this placement in a few people and their spouse (male/female) was so affectionate with them, it's literally a heart eye emoji placement. (if you don't have any other karmic placement in d9 then this is one of THE BEST placement ever, I love it)

Mercury in 10th can indicate you and your spouse working together, you guys can be great business partners since you have a similar vision for how things should be. (it's better if you have this, but 7th house is in pisces or cancer, otherwise, the relationship can be all business with not enough love to keep it going)

Venus in 8th is another placement that I do not like (you guys are probably thinking that I hate Venus but I don't😭). Anyways, I have seen this placement in a lot of men that stay with their wives because the sex is good and women who stay with their husbands because they don't want to earn money on their own) the relationship can also just be sex sex sex. It's better if saturn is aspecting Venus or if Venus is in pisces, cancer or gemini

Ketu in 1st.... is unfortunately a karmic placement, you may trust the wrong people and end up marrying someone who will cheat on you. I have noticed that people with this placement find it really difficult to be alone. I would recommend you to stay unmarried till atleast 30, and be alone, and be alone because you WANT to be not because you're forced to be. Learn to enjoy your own company, hang out with your friends, pursue a hobby and do things for yourself

I know a person who has Jupiter in 4th and she has such a good relationship with her mother in law, her MIL loves her more than her husband, it's really cute. If Jupiter is not debilitated then you can be very close with your own mother as well. This placement also indicates a partner who was raised by a single mother or just someone who grew up around a lot of women, like a lot of sisters.

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024

[shooting-love-arrows]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍

SYNOPSIS: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 who according to the sacred tradition of his peaople kiddnaps his bride. PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 x Female! Reader tw. kiddnaping, mention of blood, general lack of consent (becaouse history says screw it), mayhem. WRITER DISGRESSION: I do not support this kind of behaviour! It is only a piece of fiction and and for entertaiment putpooses only. Thank you for your attention!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It was a sacred tradition among his people, passed down from generation to generation in his clan. Filled with adrenaline and led by primitive instincts, the soon-to-be groom/husband kidnaps his future bride and wife from her home. 

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 were traditionalists when it came to domestic life and topics related to love. He believed his ancestors and their ways of ‘wooing’ their subjects of affection were not only successful but also the truest form of confessing one’s feelings for their beloved.

Perhaps only taking you from home in the dead of the night would be better for an outsider like you, who is yet to understand the way of his people. But whenever he thought about it, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 was holding a belief that you deserved better. Something memorable and "romantic," quoting the wives in his village.

That is why he didn't hesitate to raid your village at night.

Dressed in his best furs and leather, additional beads attached to his long, messy hair, and all sorts of accessories tied to his clothes symbolizing his impressive position among his clan. He was at the front, proudly riding his trusted stallion and leading the group of his best warriors on galloping horses towards where you were residing.

Not soon after they'd arrived, everything was set on fire. The barbarians didn't spare a hut from the unforgiving force of nature of their torches. Even some unfortunate fellas couldn't escape from it. Some fortunate ones were given a quick death by the sharp blades of barbarians. 

It was the mayhem, gifted to you by 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧.

“Oh my dearest wife, where are you?” He kept thinking, urgently looking all around. Adrenaline and euphoria were pumping in his veins. He was a predator on a haunt, ready to pounce on you the moment he saw you. 

And found you he did.

The second he laid his eyes on you, he got into an action. Without hesitation, he quickly urged his horse to gallop towards you. It didn’t matter who he tramped on his way, nor who he slayed to get closer to you. His full focus was placed on you.

You stood no chance.

When he was close enough, like a hawk, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 swiftly leaned down and tightly gripped your waist, hoisting you up on his horse like you weighed nothing. You began to scream and trash in his iron hold, but it didn't phase him one bit. In his eyes, it was endearing and even arousing. He knew from the stories of the other married man that the more a woman puts on a fight, the better wife she’ll be. 

"Shhh...beloved...shhh!" 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 cooed, fervently kissing away your tears and wet cheeks and holding your hands tightly to his broad chest. Some of the blood splattered on his face he smeared on your snot coated face by nuzzling into you. Between whispering sweet nothings to you and coating your face and neck in his kisses, he couldn't help but laugh. His deep and raspy voice came rumbling from his chest, only frightening you further.

For 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 everything was perfect. Under the night sky, surrounded by flames (of his passion) and screams of villagers mixed with the mad laughter of his people, he achieved what he wanted. He gave you a grand and memorable ceremony. Additionally, in the eyes of his gods, clan and according to the sacred tradition, he laid his claim on you.

You were his, just like he was yours.

"You're mine, dearest wife. Mine!"

Forever.

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[aphroditelovesu]

Yan!Alexander the Great w/ Soldier's Pregnant Widow!Reader

❝ 📜 — lady l: this is a commission that I was very happy to do! I'm sorry for the delay, I confess that I had forgotten this in my drafts and only remembered it after reading your messagem, anon! I hope you enjoy it and, as requested, it is more based on Alexander's feelings for the Reader. Forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: mention of death, mourning. pregnancy and fluff.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

You were the wife of one of Alexander's cavalry soldiers who, unlike many other soldiers' wives, decided to accompany him to war. You loved your husband deeply and did not want to be separated from him.

Your husband also loved you deeply. He wasn't a general or a high-ranking officer, but your husband tried to make you as comfortable as possible in this violent environment. He was loyal to you, something rare but one you appreciated. You loved him with everything in you.

Until the day you lost him. During the Battle of Granicus, your husband died in battle and your world collapsed. You had lost the man you loved and it felt like an endless road. Alexander, being the beloved King that he was, buried the dead soldiers with the necessary honors and spoke to the wives present in the camp. And one of them was you.

Alexander was immediately enchanted by you. He was surprised at how you handled your grief, clearly you loved your husband very much and the pain of the loss you felt captivated him. He didn't take long to approach you subtly at first.

Alexander was kind and protective, offering his condolences and staying by your side. His words were kind and his discreet smiles were reserved just for you. More observant people didn't take long to notice the King's interest in you, but they never dared to say anything, not when they knew his temperament.

You found yourself lost in a sea of pain and sadness, unable to find comfort in anything around you. Alexander's comforting presence was like an anchor in the midst of the storm, offering support and compassion in such a dark time. He understood your pain as he had also lost soldiers close to him.

Alexander felt compelled to protect and care for you, not only out of gratitude for your husband's sacrifice, but also because he genuinely cared for you. His discreet smiles and kind gestures were an attempt to ease your pain, to be a ray of light amid the darkness you faced.

Although you fought your feelings, you found yourself enjoying the King's presence. But you soon discovered that you were pregnant by your late husband and you decided to focus on honoring your husband's memory and focusing on the baby growing inside you.

Alexander didn't like it at all when you tried to move away from him but he soon understood why. He wasn't angry or anything, but surprised and slightly bothered. You would have a child, something he wanted, but it wouldn't be with him. He couldn't blame you, though, it wasn't your fault.

As time passed, your belly grew and the pain of loss lessened, you found yourself more and more involved in the camp's activities, keeping yourself busy to keep away the thoughts that haunted you at night. And you found yourself increasingly close to Alexander, who made his feelings for you very clear.

He respected the fact that you weren't ready to get married due to the fact that you were pregnant, he could wait until the baby was born. But he wasn't far from you, spending his free time by your side while also taking care of you. You owned your own tent and personal effects, along with those of your late husband.

In time, your husband's child was born, and you held it in your arms with love and sadness. It was a part of him you would carry forever, a living reminder of the man you loved so much. Alexander was present and he acted as if your child were his. He didn't even like it when people mentioned it wasn't his.

You were his and your baby was his too. Alexander was skeptical about it at first but he warmed up to the idea. The mourning period is over and your child has been born, now it is time for you to become his wife and have children of his own.

[homunculus-argument]

Come to think of it, I really like doing worldbuilding in common misconceptions caused by survivor/sample bias. I got too gleefully into infodumping about worlds I made up, so I'm going to be merciful and throw a cut-off right here:

(damn, you're still reading? Well, that's on you. Here we go.)

In The Book I Am Not Writing, the fisher folk have very strict concepts of ritual purity, being strict about seemingly arbitrary rules of cleanliness, and they simply don't do extramarital relationships. They are, however, polygamous both ways, so consulting the other spouses about introducing another wife or husband into the marriage is always an option. They also seem to have absurdly large flocks of children. Being both an unusual ethnicity who are commonly considered pretty, and also essentially completely off-limits for casual sex, they are often fetishised, and there's a myth that fisher men are so insanely good in bed that their wives simply cannot resist the temptation of their four sexy husbands even if they're otherwise absolutely done getting pregnant all the time.

The truth is a lot more complicated than that. First of all, in the multiple-spouse marriages, all children are raised between all parents and many clans consider it inappropriate to inquire which kids are biologically whose, so if one or two of the partners has fertility issues, nobody from the outside would know. And the seemingly arbitrary purity rules aren't all that random either - many of them actually ensure a higher standard of hygiene than what other cultures around them have. This, and restrictions about marrying within one's own clan to avoid inbreeding, ensure healthier children. They aren't fucking and getting pregnant more than any other peoples, they have more children because of lower infant mortality.

The Travellers are also "outsiders" living in diaspora, who are - as their name implies - itinerant and never stay in one place for long. Not by choice, though many of them will say they'd rather live this way than to ever settle down, but because almost all towns and cities have discriminatory laws explicitly prohibiting Travellers in particular from staying in the city for too long, or limiting how many of them can be allowed within the city walls at the same time. They don't call themselves Travellers, but refuse to tell outsiders what their own language's name is for their own people, out of fear that the name would be appropriated and turned into a slur. Secrecy is the only privacy that they are allowed to have.

An unusually large number of Travellers also have unusual physical traits, dysmorphic structural features, and congenital disabilities. This is used as xenophobic cannon fodder by citizens of the Empire, treated as proof that the Travellers are so morally crooked that it even deforms their bodies. This, of course, is bullshit. In truth, Travellers do not have any more disabled or deformed babies than anyone else - what they do have is a strong culture of NEVER abandoning one of their own. No matter what. So while people of the Empire associate health and beauty with moral goodness, and consider having "imperfect" babies shameful, Travellers simply don't practice the common peoples' common habit of abandoning or discreetly 'disposing' of children who aren't likely to survive into adulthood, or who will need support their entire lives. "What can be done to one of us, they will do to all of us" is how they live, so nobody gets left behind.

On the opposite end of society there are the Baronesses, the Empire's all-female army of trained magic-wielders. A military class, whose inherent magical powers do not even manifest in every child or even every generation, but when it does, it's always on girls. Daughters are trained for combat, they are the ones to carry on the family name. Since a woman does not need to be married in order to be sure that all her children are hers, sons are not particularly valued even as political tokens for arranged marriages. It is considered common knowledge that there's something in "wielder blood" that makes the male carriers of it weak just as it makes the female ones strong, and that is considered the reason why the male members of wielder families tend to be so dysfunctional, emotionally frail, rampant with substance abuse and more likely to die in the womb or in early infancy.

It is politely never questioned how downright convenient it is that it just happens to be the less wanted sex who are far, far more likely to simply perish away for no apparent reason, especially when it comes to the most harsh, highest-ranking, and most competitive wielder families.

Far across the great ocean, on the opposite corner of the map of the world that the Empire knows of, are the Northlands. Almost mythical mystical lands, that are the source of the various types of thick white pelts and some other exotic goods, commonly supposed to be populated by completely wild, savage people. Northmen are all lumped together, as most people of the Empire would find it hard to believe that the Northmen have even one civilised culture, not to speak of consisting of several cultures and creeds with their own languages and customs. The only few Northmen that the Empire has seen have been foreign sailors in port towns, or perhaps someone's unit of rare exotic bodyguards, undoubtedly a weird flex.

Northmen are considered feral, and the "civilised" ones a strange exception to a supposed rule. It is said that they are exclusively carnivores, eating only meat like tigers and drinking only alcohol. That they are nocturnal, with eyes like cats and wolves that gleam in the dark, and that sunlight hurts them. The sun never rises in their lands, so naturally the people are as pale as cave olms, just like the pelts of their animals are all white. And just like cats and wolves, their infants are all born with blind blue eyes, which either stay blue or turn yellow once they grow.

This, too, is a mishmash of myth and half-truth. Northfolk who venture this far south are more likely to eat meat than any fruit or vegetable they are offered, since they are more familiar with what goat or chicken taste like than any fruit of this strange climate. Northland alcohols are generally bitter ales and dry wines, and the sweet liquors and strong wines of Southlands are a treasured luxury for the ones who are familiar with them, and a very fast way to get shitfaced if one isn't. They aren't nocturnal at home, but having no other protection from the relentless sun, they do prefer to move at dusk to avoid getting sunburn. And The Long Night only lasts a few weeks or months, but that's difficult to explain to people whose common language doesn't have words for "snow" or "winter."

There are no Nothfolk with yellow eyes, but blue eyes are very common, and to Southland people to whom both eye colours are unnatural and associated exclusively with beasts and carnivores, they rarely notice that they've never seen a yellow-eyed one. And being born with blue eyes like wolf pups and kittens isn't a myth, that really is a thing that happens to white people.

[allpiesforourown]

So a bit off topic from hatman but does Luo Binghe have kids already in the harem member Shen Yuan AU? I know you had another post with stepmom Shen Yuan but can you imagine some of Luo Binghe's kids falling for the pretty omega that lives in the secluded part of the palace. Not only is he pretty but he actually works to help out with the problems their families face. Plus he's one of the few people that calls out the emperor for not spending enough time with his kids and ensures they all get a proper education. He also remembers their birthdays and somehow knows their favorite sweets! He's not only a better father to them but a better husband to their moms. At some point some of them realize that Luo Binghe has not touched Shen Yuan and in demon terms, an unmarked omega is fair game. Cue a bunch of kids making plans to bridenap Shen Yuan once they come of age. Because Shen Yuan deserves a lovely mate who will dote on them and give them children. Plus their moms would no doubt be thrilled to have Shen Yuan as family. In the mean time they plan to subtly court the oblivious omega.

Spoiler: Luo Binghe is definitely not supportive of this idea.

So real.. adding onto this: Luo binghe qi deviating into a child like in the return to childhood extra. He's too ashamed to admit what's happened so he's just walking around his palace wondering how he can use his current form to his advantage and bumping into shen yuan.

I think most harem members would be very cold to children from other mothers for obvious reasons.. binghe expecting harem drama, waiting for shen yuan to get angry because "your mother can secure a place in the harem by birthing you, but I can't!"

Instead shen yuan sees this little boy who looks like binghe wandering around unaccompanied and kneels down and asks if he's lost. He carefully says it's dangerous for a child to be alone in the palace (not mentioning envious wives who take their anger out on other people's kids because binghe won't impregnate them) so no one is blamed. He just takes Binghe’s hand and asks "who's your mother? I'll help you find her."

Binghe feeling really emotional for a second and letting it slip that his mother passed away. Shen yuan is confused because how could a wife of the protagonist die? He doesn't want to question it though, he's read enough harem dramas to know some women only have children as a status symbol they neglect... so if this boy is making excuses to avoid seeing his mother, that's okay!

Shen yuan being so sweet and gentle with binghe, patting his head and calling him a good boy... then when binghe returns to normal shen yuan goes back to calling him "lord luo" and maintaining a respectful distance.

When binghe sees his kids hanging around shen yuan instead, getting his smiles..... he's drinking soooo much vinegar

[andhumanslovedstories]

wish the DnD movie had Edgin lie about his backstory, which is literally what I thought was the case until like an hour into the film when I was like "oh my god they're serious", and also wish that Simon (who I do like as a character) gave up one of his two personal development plots so that the druid (whose name I'm truly incapable of remembering because she is never allowed to influence the narrative in the slightest outside of becoming animals when needed) could have a single personal development plot, and also I wish all the laziest writing choices weren't all piled on female characters. Except Holga, who rules. I have no complaints about Holga. I love Holga. But also it's 2023, we don't need a dead wife who smiles at you from underneath your white bedsheets and who died because of her husband's mistake and is also not resurrected by her husband by his choice. Like clearly Holga is the person who should have been resurrected in that scene, resurrected Dead Wife would have been a wild narrative choice, but it really does finish her arc as Woman Who Exists Solely For Chris Pine's Character. All fiction backstory wives know how to do is have baby, keep house, make ham-fisted metaphors extremely clear in case the audience has never seen a film before, and lie (dead on the ground, gently stabbed yet smiling peacefully at her husband).

And this was all so avoidable because Edgin the Bard should have been Extremely Divorced. That's the backstory he clearly was supposed to have. The heist is for child support.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy holidays! Lady mo please?

a continuation of 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59

Jiang Yanli does not often feel old. Her golden core does not keep her eternally young like it does her brother, does not prevent the more persistent illnesses from plaguing her, but it does east the aches and pains non cultivators her age often complain of, does keep her skin youthful without the aid of strange poultices and she’ll probably never need dyes to keep her hair dark. But she feels old now, watching Xuanyu and Lan Wangji fumble around one another, watching her struggle for the affection of a husband who might care for her, but does not treat her with care.

At least by the time she married Zixuan, he’d told her that he loved her.

 “What was all the commotion about?” Zixuan asks, arms encircling her waist as he tugs her back against his chest now that they’re back in their own quarters.

“Your cousin got drunk and pissed off the wrong people. Again.”

He huffs, his breath warm against her neck. “Yanli. You know that’s not what I’m talking about. I know A-Yao thinks I’m stupid, but even I notice servants running about and clan leaders and their wives going missing. Especially when one of them is mine.”

“A-Yao doesn’t think you’re stupid,” Jiang Yanli says, even though he kind of does. He thinks most people are stupid and Zixuan has at least grown out of taking it personally. That doesn’t mean she has to rub it in. “Xuanyu was just – a little upset. About things.”

“Lan Xichen likes her. Lan Wangji’s kid adores her. And we all saw what Lan Wangji thinks,” he says. Defending is also not the same thing as caring, but she doesn’t say that. “A-Yao even calls her our sister. Do you remember how long it took him to call me brother? It seems like it’s going well.”

If it had gone a little less well, she’d be less distraught.

Jiang Yanli is debating how much she can say without revealing Xuanyu’s pregnancy – enough people know that it won’t stay a secret for long, but Zixuan is terrible at faking surprise – when there’s a loud, frantic knocking at their door.

Zixuan frowns and goes to open the door.

“Fuck off,” slurs a familiar, beloved voice.

Jiang Yanli hides a smile and goes to stand next to her husband.

A-Cheng is standing there, sort of, considering he’s mostly being supported but a long-suffering Li Jun. “Meimei said she won’t deal with him anymore.”

“Ah,” Zixuan says, already resigned.

A-Cheng stumbles forward, grabbing her wrist and tugging her towards the table. He blearily glares at Zixuan. “Go away.”

He sighs, leaning down to kiss her and then saying, “I suppose I’ll be in a guest room.” He makes a face, remembering that the tower is full of foreign disciples. “Somewhere.”

He’s going to end up sleeping in their son’s room and A-Ling is going to complain about it. Loudly.

“Good night,” she says, barely keeping from laughing as she closes the door on Li Jun side eyeing Zixuan. Her sect has never completely forgiven Zixuan for being a teenage boy, not matter that she’s spent over a decade in the Jin rather than the Jiang.

She lets A-Cheng pull her down beside him at the table, leaning his head on his arm while he stares at her. She pours him a cup of water that she hopes he’ll drink. “Are you all out of sorts because of Xuanyu too?”

His face goes blank then it creases and he’s turns to hide it in the bend of his elbow.

With the first stirrings of genuine alarm, Jiang Yanli realizes he’s crying.

“A-Cheng? A-Cheng, what’s wrong?” she asks, putter her arm over his back and pulling him into her side like she used to when they were kids.

The words come out muffled, but he says, “I hate him. How could he – I hate him.” Then, quieter, in a tone that doesn’t match the words at all, “I hate him.”

She runs through everyone who’s here, every cultivator she saw A-Cheng speak to, but it’s a fool’s errand. No one gets to him like this. No one but –

“Wei Wuxian came back.”

[dumbkiri]

𝕯𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖄𝖔𝖚

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃

"Can we have a twin of Aegon be the rider of Balerion? I know Balerion dies and cannot fly even with Viserys, but I want him to be a supported for the Blacks because...yeah! Also give him a sword of fire like Dondarrion has too! I know incest is weird to write, but Helaena needs someone to appreciate her!! Not a lot of detail, but pop off with this one! "

Not very knowledgeable on HOTD, but I tried!

The doors to the council room pushed open with an eerie creak paired with the sounds of heavy footfalls of a grieving father and husband. Dressed in his black armor with red accents and his sword, Hellfire, strapped to his waist unnerved the council. The presence of [Name] Targaryen hushed his grieving twin brother instantly.  

Aegon quieted down his anger upon witnessing the emotion flowing off of [Name], his lilac glare pointed at the floor in deep thought as he walked up the steps. This emotion [Name] conveyed hadn’t been new to Aegon, it reminded him of the time [Name] demanded their father to give Helaena’s hand to himself. 

Their father, Viserys, laughed in his face…the old man hadn’t laughed in awhile like that and it unnerved the twin boys. But Viserys’ laugh turned into a cough and he cleared his throat out saying, “Your brother is getting married to Lady Jeyne, [Name]. Helaena is all yours and will be soon.” 

[Name] has always wanted Helaena, their odd sister and claimed that, ‘Nobody is willing to understand her, but I am. She should be with me.’ That madness subsided with Viserys’ joyful laugh and reassuring words. This time was different. Their father wasn’t here as king or here to calm him down with hopeful words. No, it was just him. Aegon, the drunken twin…the weak king. 

He watched his twin walk up to the table and stopped at the foot of it. [Name] leaned over it and set his palms on the smooth surface. Clearing his throat and looking straight ahead, at no one in particular this time, he asked every council member, 

“Why were our wives and children unguarded at the dead of night?” 

His calm words  didn’t quite match the fire in his eyes, but the sudden echoed roar of Balerion outside of King’s Landing stirred the council fully awake. Alicent looked around the table and waited for someone to answer her son’s question. She couldn’t put the dangerous eyes of her son on herself...or Cole.

But fear seeped into the very essence of her wretched soul. Helaena walked in on a terrible deed between the queen dowager and the lord commander. Alicent knew that [Name], his gentle words would convince Helaena to tell him every detail of this night. Helaena never held secrets away from her older brother, she always confided with him in everything. 

The rest of the men didn’t speak either and Tyland kept his mouth shut. The outburst he received from Aegon was unmatched to [Name]’s, the rider of The Black Dread. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to speak against the dragon rider that had a god of light guarding him. 

“A little bit ago, I was with your brother, Aemond,” Otto spoke freely, casting a smooth glance over at Criston Cole, “but before that, Cole and your brother were conversing together. I sent Cole away to his watch to have a word with Aemond.”

[Name] dragged his eyes over from his grandfather to Cole and asked, “Did you go back to your post, Lord Commander? Answer this question correctly, I fear that Balerion didn’t have his full for today.” 

Tension was high in the room and Balerion never seized his loud roaring that sounded closer with each minute. Cole shuffled in his spot next to Aegon who looked up at him with suspicion. The rest of the council looked at the Lord Commander wondering why [Name] fixated his lilac eyes so hard on Cole.

“I was abed, my prince.” Cole said without looking [Name] in the eyes. 

“And where were your men? Why weren’t there any guards patrolling the floor my family slept on?” The rising tone, the boiling anger in his throat made his voice raspy. His open palms closed into tight fists as he continued to ask, “Why is it that the moment you send the Watch to sleep, our sons were left at the cruel hands of murderers!” 

His left hand slammed against the table making glasses clink in their place. 

“Your white cloak,” [Name]’s voice knocked down in volume, not seizing up for anyone to speak between his breaths, “is stained with the blood of Jaehaerys and Rhaegar. I will figure out a punishment befitting you once I clear my head.”

Alicent swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to reason with her usual kind son, “[Name], this doesn’t-” 

“You will speak once spoken to, mother,” His eyes slowly moved over to her fear stricken ones and she knew why she was getting his hostility. His biting words covering her in flames eating away at her guilt, “Helaena told me what happened tonight. Everything I need to know. For being such a godly woman and criticizing every move the Blacks make, I’m disappointed in the actions you took tonight.”

He straightened out his back and addressed everyone at the table, “Tonight will teach everyone here a lesson.

“The Night’s Watch will stay at their post, guarding the royal family to their very last breath. They will have patrol times and stick to it. If their Lord Commander comes up to them with a release, the Night’s Watch will turn into stone and keep their post. Their job is to guard the royal family, protect the castle. I will not have another incident like this one. I will not have my wife witness such a heinous act of child murder. 

“As for the rest of us, before we return to bed, we make sure there is a knight in or around our presence. I want you to fall asleep to the sounds of clinking armor knowing that there is a knight outside your door or on your floor patrolling. I want us to sleep peacefully and…”

“Rhaegar…he was faster than I was,” Helaena’s tears slid down her cheeks, “he was braver than I was. I didn’t see this, I-I couldn’t stop him. Our little boy ran in to save Jaehaerys and he wasn’t scared. He held the dagger you gave him on his nameday and scarred one of them. Then while he was choking at that man’s hands, he said his last words, “My father will burn you in the blackest hells, ratcatcher. He will.””

[Name] paused hearing Helaena’s voice in his head, he couldn't cry right now. Rhaegar was only seven years old and the boy fought back to save his family. His little boy had run in to save his family's lives because no one else was there, not even himself. 

“-and not worry about ratcatchers.” 

His stance faltered and he fell back into the chair at his side. His gloved hand wiped at his face to shake away the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. Helaena kept speaking to him, her words haunting him, 

“Jeyne grabbed her remaining daughter out of her bed and Daenerys held tightly onto my dress while I snuck Viserys out of his crib. The two of us ran away from that horrible sound with our children, leaving poor Jaehaerys and Rhaegar behind. Jeyne kept crying as we ran for our lives, kept asking where the knights were. Where were they?” 

“I don’t know,” [Name] felt like she was asking him, ‘where were you?’ and he wanted to say out flying Balerion in the night. But she knew he flew Balerion out in the night because he had the need to patrol around that time. And no one would see him or Balerion when the beast itself blends in the darkest sky. 

“Helaena, is there anything else you would like to tell me?” He asked before he would storm into the council room and demand for answers. 

His wife looked over at Daenerys cuddled up in her father’s arms with tear tracks stained on her young face. Helaena didn’t know if she could tell him about their mother’s…activity with the Lord Commander. But she didn’t need to because Daenerys mumbled something in his chest. 

[Name] stirred and moved his daughter to look her in the eyes, “Say that again, Dany. I didn’t quite catch that.” 

Daenerys looked into his eyes and said, “Grandmother…she was with the Lord Commander.” 

Helaena watched the confusion morph her husband’s face and he nodded his head, “Well yes, Ser Criston Cole is in charge of watching over your grandmother.”

Daenerys shook her head and clarified as best as a child could do, “He wasn’t guarding her, father. He was in her bed.” [Name]’s blood ran cold. The reason why Jaehaerys and Rhaegar died was because Cole didn’t want the Night’s Watch to-

“Helaena is this true?” He looked over at his sister-wife and she nodded her head with her eyes on the floor. His heart dropped to his stomach at this revelation. His skin crawled with the act of deceit. His mother called the Lord Commander to her chambers, thus allowing the release of the Night’s Watch on the royal family. 

“Rhaegar looked like you, father, fighting back that man” Daenerys sniffled and wiped her eyes with her small hands, “he wounded the ratcatcher. His eye is scarred, sort of like uncle Aemond. I think…I think Rhaegar knew his end, but he wounded his attacker so you could find him.”

“Of course he did,” [Name] whispered and hugged his daughter to his chest, pressing her face into the crook of his neck where she cried some more. Of course Rhaegar did that, he never went down without a fight. He was taught to protect his family, to harm those that pose a threat to them. But [Name] never taught his first born to think for himself. Think about a life Rhaegar could live for. Instead his son sacrificed himself to buy time for Helaena and Jeyne. 

“I’m sorry, my girls,” [Name] choked out, his tears finally cascading down his face, “I wasn’t there for you. I could have stopped it, I could have saved you from those bastards. Dany, your brother could have still been alive if I had-”

Daenerys moved her head and tilted her chin up, her gaze piercing his soul, “I know it’s not your fault, father. You were flying out with Balerion like you always do every night. Rhaegar knew what he had to do, I don’t blame you for his bravery.” 

Bravery. Not death. Daenerys saw her older brother as a brave child that passed away with honor. Not as a little boy with a dagger, weak to a full grown man. He looked over at his wife and she nodded her head in approval. Helaena could never blame [Name], she knew if he were present, he would have slaughtered the ratcatchers. 

“Helaena, Daenerys,” [Name] looked at his daughter then back to his wife. With gritted teeth, he said, “Cole will face consequences for releasing the Night’s Watch and I will find the ratcatcher that killed Rhaegar. This I promise to you.” 

“What about…mother?” Helaena cautiously asked her husband. She saw the turmoil in his eyes and he handed Daenerys over to her arms. Then he stood up and brought his sad gaze over to Viserys sleeping in his crib.  

“Mother will feel guilty all her life for this moment,” [Name] began walking away and said, “I hope it drives her mad.” 

“Brother, tell them that this idea is madness! We cannot allow our sons to be dragged across this city for show!” Aegon’s voice filled with hurt brought [Name] out of his misery and he looked at the table.

“What idea?” He sat up in his chair and Otto looked over at [Name] carefully wording his sentence out. 

“We will honor Prince Jaehaerys and Rhaegar by showing the cruelty of Rhaenyra’s actions to the people. This will-” 

[Name] shook his head and looked at Otto, asking, “Wait, Rhaenyra did this? She was the one that ordered our sons to die?” 

Alicent looked down at the table and folded her hands together, “We don’t know for sure, but-” 

“That’s a serious accusation that will not be taken lightly. Did she or did she not order that Prince Jaehaerys should die?” [Name] demanded, his hand itching to spill some blood. His anger was getting the best of him, eating away at his best traits. 

Everyone remained quiet at the table until Aegon shot up from his seat, raging with fury. [Name] didn’t notice that Cole had left the room. “Of course she fucking did! She’s a cunning little bitch! I want her to answer for the crimes she committed against us!” 

[Name] couldn't believe it. Rhaenyra would never cause the same pain she felt when she lost Lucerys to Aemond on Helaena. But he wanted answers, “I will fly to Dragonstone tomorrow morning and demand for answers.” He stood up from his seat and stopped short in his path. “I’m not going to start a war, not yet. I will confront my sister and ask her about this crime.” 

“She’ll lie to your face!” Aegon shouted, spit flying viciously out of his mouth. 

[Name] looked over his shoulder and scrutinized him, “People cannot lie easily with Balerion in sight. You pissed your pants when he didn’t choose you, so imagine what others will do.”

He walked a bit more and one of the guards opened the door for him. Then he set his hand on the door, he kept his eyes forward and addressed his grandfather, “A Hightower shouldn’t speak on Targaryen traditions. My son is going to be honored only by his family and burned by Balerion. His bravery isn’t a spectacle for King’s Landing and I won’t have strangers mourning him. His body has been defiled enough along with Jaehaerys. I don’t see why we have to show them our pain, sympathizing with us isn’t enough reason for them to peek into our lives. Anyone who touches Rhaegar’s body…will die.”

……

After his talk with the council, [Name] found himself in his bed with his two girls and baby boy. Viserys had been busy climbing on Helaena with cute babbles while Dany cuddled up against [Name]’s bare chest. “I am going to Dragonstone to ask our sister if she had anything to do with this. I’m leaving early in the morning, I would like everyone to join me.” 

“You’re going to visit Aunt Rhaenyra, father?” Daenerys sat up with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “That means we can fly on Balerion together.” [Name] nodded his head and brushed her long hair behind her ears. 

“But what if she thinks it's a sign of war?” Helaena asked.

[Name] cleared his throat and said, “They’re scared of Vhagar as it is, I don’t think they want to fight Balerion as well. I can win that fight easily against her motherly dragon. Rhaenys would be my worry for Balerion. But that’s beside the point, I’m there looking for answers, not a fight.”

Helaena looked down at Viserys and the two year old smiled at her. “I’m afraid to fly with him.”

[Name] sat up and cleared his throat, “I can have Viserys’ strapped to my back while-”

“I meant Rhaegar,” Helaena murmured and looked away from her family. Meanwhile [Name] sighed and knew his plan for having Rhaegar honored by the Blacks instead of the Greens was going to have a bad effect on his wife. But he couldn’t do it. Jaehaerys would be shown around to the people, but not Rhaegar. Not his boy.

“I can fly with all three of them, Helaena. Balerion is big enough to carry all of us and it’ll be no big deal for him.” [Name] reasoned, hoping his wife would look at him. 

“I can ride with Mother,” Dany offered with a sweet smile, “if she wants me too.” 

Helaena looked back at her daughter and returned the smile, “Yes, of course little one. Are we also taking their dragons with us?” She looked at [Name] for clarification. She knew what his big plan was and this would cement the fact. 

“Yes, that is the idea of it,” He whispered back, afraid she would reject it. Moving out of King’s Landing to Dragonstone is a risk he was willing to take to keep his family alive. He wished he only did it sooner. 

“Okay, I trust you.” She leaned forward and pressed a shy kiss on his cheek. This action had Daenerys giggle with a blush on her face. [Name] bristled at the action himself and awed at the expression on his daughter’s face. Though they experienced a terrible night, his girls were able to show a bit of comfort and happiness. 

He held back his tears and longed for Rhaegar to return. Longed for his family to be complete again. Helaena saw the tears in his eyes nonetheless and she placed her hand onto his face, “We should rest, we have an early journey ahead of us.” She released his face and picked up Viserys, putting the babe into his own bed with his young dragon laying at the top left corner.

While she settled the boy, [Name] slid out of bed and pulled out the logs from the fireplace leaving it only a kindle now. The room darkened exponentially and he made his way back to the bed at the same time Helaena did. Dany pushed her father over to the middle so she could share him with her mother. With Helaena on his right, she cuddled up against his chest, her head laying on his shoulder. Daenerys on his left hugged his arm tightly and the little girl went fast asleep with light snores. 

The fire crackled a few times before dying out completely, letting the full moon being the only source of light in the room. [Name] stayed awake thinking about tonight. He thought about looking for the ratcatcher when his girls fell asleep. He already had Rhaegar wrapped and prepared for the flight to Dragonstone. Perhaps he wanted to torture his mother a little bit longer before he left too. 

His eyes felt heavy with sleep, shouldn’t be long until his eyes shut for the night. Then he heard a few clicking noises of baby dragons. He lied still and saw two silhouettes climbing up his legs. Then the two baby dragons made their way to Dany, they made small noises until they settled right next to her body. One curled up next to her stomach and the other laid on his arm where Dany held on tightly. 

“My love,” [Name] whispered and turned his head slowly at Helaena. His wife stirred then blinked her eyes a couple of times. “You have to look at Dany, Helaena.” He whispered again, hoping not to scare the two hatchlings near his daughter. 

Helaena noticed his stiff body and she cautiously moved herself upward, peering down at the scene her husband was fawning over. “Moonlight and Nightmare…Rhaegar’s dragon is sleeping with her too?” 

[Name] shook his head with a teary grin, “Even in death, our boy is watching over his twin. I don’t know what to say right now besides that. I…There’s so many words I want to say, Helaena. I know you said it’s not my fault, but if I just stayed-”

Helaena put her hand on his chest then moved it upward to wipe the tears from his eyes. “It’s not your fault, [Name]. Please stop blaming yourself. You are a great father, you raised a strong boy who protected his family. You raised a strong girl who speaks with praise, not blame. And I know how Viserys is going to grow up too.”

“You…you had a dream again?” [Name] asked and relished her warm touch. 

“I’m a dreamer of you, my love,” She smiled with glee, “and yes, it was beautiful. Our family finds peace in the North, not sure how, but we do. And our family never stops growing. Dreamfyre and Balerion grow accustomed to the cold and have clutches to support our growing family. All is well with the Targaryens that move up North, my light in the darkness. Now please, let us rest, we need not worry about our future anymore.” 

She pressed a light kiss on his lips and his head fell back onto the pillow. He closed his eyes and followed her order. Yes, she had a vision and she loved every second of it. She couldn’t wait to move up North. To have her husband create a grand alliance with Cregan Stark, the Wolf and the Dragon. This alliance will bring an end to this war between the Greens and the Blacks. 

After the war ends, she would be surrounded by five children and even more grandchildren. And the amount of dragons flying in the North would scare any Southerner that threatens the North. 

Yes, this vision was beautiful. After all, any vision involving [Name] always has been.

[mythicmanuscripts]

This blog is now officially my favourite and I'm totally addicted to all your content on Aemond and Aegon.

There was a comment on how Aemond probably immediatly tries to fulfill all his wives wishes even if it wasn't serious (that one was mainly about killing people but anyways) and I was wondering if we could get some thoughts on a situation where he can't to that. Maybe they're travelling and she mentions how much she would love a hot bath or her own bed (without meaning anything by it) and he just can't do anything about it

I should have known that one of you lads would find a way to make that crack post serious and a little angsty. We love torturing men on this blog.

There is implied sub!aemond in this answer but no explicit thoughts so I won't be letting you all hide behind a cut, you know what you're getting into here!!

So for anyone who missed the ask this is referencing: I made a joke a while ago about how Aemond would reach a point where he's just no thoughts head empty do whatever pretty wife says. Aemond is a service sub through and through and he absolutely loves being able to do things for you. More than just like it, he takes extreme pride in it?

Not just because he's your submissive, but because he's also your husband. He needs to know he's being a good husband, that he's worthy of a wife like you and he gets genuinely distressed if he thinks he's disappointed you or angered you in any way.

When this specific thing happens, I like the idea of it maybe being when you're both travelling somewhere on Vhagar? Like maybe all the members of the royal family are expected to show their support for something all the way up at Winterfell. Most of them are all going by horse and carriage, but Aemond of course would take Vhagar and he asks if you'd like to join him. Aemond LOVES when it's just you, him and Vhagar and he absolutely adores flying and travelling with you. Plus, Vhagar loves you just as much because from the moment she met you she knew that you were so good for Aemond.

Anyway, the point is that you were able to instead go by comfortable horse and carriage, stopping at inns every day and being welcomed by all the common folk in the area. Instead, you chose to leave a week after everyone else with Aemond and to fly on Vhagar instead, which is only a three day journey because of how fast she is and how long she can fly for.

But those three days flying means that for two nights you're pretty much just camped out wherever Vhagar lands for the day. Right from the start Aemond offered to check the maps and find inns for both nights but you told him not to bother.

You know that Aemond will be uncomfortable staying in inns, especially because he's so recognisable and so he knows all the people in the area will want to speak with him. Forcing him to show up at Winterfell and show his public support for something he couldn't give less of a shit about is bad enough, he doesn't need to also be a roadside attraction for two nights.

More than just that, you know Aemond could really really do with three days of just you, him and Vhagar.

The first day of flying you don't even speak much. You're seated behind Aemond, your hands wrapped around his waist and it's just perfect.

When Vhagar lands for the night, you set up camp while Aemond checks around to ensure it's a safe place to spend the night.

When he comes back, you have everything set up and you make an offhanded comment that you miss your nice warm bed. You don't even think much of it and continue putting the twigs together for the fire. It's only once you have the fire going fully that you realise Aemond still hasn't come to sit with you and has instead stayed standing where he was when you made the comment.

You ask him what's wrong, and to your shock he's silent for a moment before he asks, "Do you not want to stay with me?"

You have no idea where that came from, and when you ask he says that you mentioned missing your bed. You can't help it, you have to laugh at your sweet husband. You motion for him to come sit with you and when he does, you link arms with him and lean against his shoulder.

"Of course I want to," you tell him, "it was just an offhanded comment, I love being here with you."

You can feel him relax a little, no longer sitting as straight and tense, but he's still not satisfied. He speaks up again, "I don't know what to do," he says, "I can't... I can't do anything about that."

You frown and lean more against him, pressing a kiss under his jaw and telling him that he doesn't need to do a thing. You promise him that you love being with him, and that you never would have agreed to come if you genuinely didnt want to sleep out here with him.

Even with that reassurance, he's still a little unsettled throughout the night, and you can see this by the way he tries even harder than usual to please you. He double and triple checks that you don't want anything, he folds your clothes himself, he offers you extra blankets, just does everything he can because he feels like he's failing you by not being able to make you comfortable.

You can see he's spiralling, and I actually think the best thing to do might be to give him a command? No amount of reassurance will help his brain relax, he needs to feel like he has done something good for you.

Maybe you just have him brush your hair for you? There's not much you can ask him to do in the middle of nowhere, so you grab your brush and ask him to take your braids out your hair and brush it through. He's so so gentle with it, really taking his time to ensure he doesn't pull you.

When he finishes you turn to face him and give him a kiss, thanking him for helping you and telling him how much you're loving being with him.

After you arrive at Winterfell, Aemond tells you that he never wants to travel another way with you again.

[genderkoolaid]

Like many of us, I have never had the luxury to not work in my adult life. Sex work is what I chose to do for a living, because out of all the jobs accessible to me, it was one that worked for me – but I work out of necessity, not desire. What I was conceptualising back then and now have the words for is that work, in a capitalist society, is not liberation. What is liberating, however, is organising and unionising with my colleagues. It’s winning a legal battle for one sex worker that sets a precedent, thereby bringing us all one step closer towards destigmatisation and decriminalisation. What I find empowering is that, despite the isolating nature of our jobs, we stand united and fierce when one of us is violated. We are loud in our demand for more rights, ours and others’. We are vocal and supported by activists who see the intersections in our respective struggles, and we are at the forefront of many revolutions. What brings me joy as a sex worker, is to see that, while our activities are considered immoral, dirty and our experiences are silenced, we invent new worlds every day. We shape new realities because being forced to exist on the margin and in secrecy means existing creatively. We are everyone and everywhere. Our clients are your dads, your brothers, your lovers, your husbands – even your wives and sisters. We may even like them sometimes. Most people would have you believe that all the violence we experience comes from clients. It would be a lie to say that the people we are intimate with in our professional lives are always well-intentioned. It would also be a lie to claim that either wider society or the state protects us. All the violence we experience as sex workers is either created or enabled by it. The criminalisation of our activities exacerbates it but make no mistake, what is alienating is not sex work, it is work, full stop.