“One-night stands are like chess, only the loser desires a rematch.”
- Jack Freestone
face claim: yasmin wijnaldum
series masterlist
latest: ch 1
masterlist
requests open!
y/n l/n is the hottest matchmaker in town, and behind the happy ever afters of the rich and famous. independent, hardworking, and ambitious, she’s made a career travelling the world helping others find love like cupid. she’s had no problem with hundreds of clients over the years, until a weary, dark haired defenseman with dreamy eyes walks in her office looking to finally settle down. will she find his her match?
will she open her heart to the idea of romance of herself after making it possible for so many others?
wow!!! i cannot believe i hit 950 followers on this blog and i am so thankful to everyone who has followed me and supported my work.
i will be opening my requests specifically for this through headcanons and short blurbs to quickly put it out for quinn hughes specifically. ^^ i’ll assess your requests case by case and thank you for your love and support.
i’ll be reblogging prompt lists i find in case you need inspo. i cannot thank you all again and i love you all.
summary: quinn finally meets the matchmaker to begin the search for his dream girl. or has he?
word count: 2.2k words
a/n: i apologize for the long delay! uni has been kicking my butt and a lot has happened but i am just as excited for this. like i said, he'll remain a canuck in this series, but my works will both have him as a canuck and as a wild. there's always gonna be something for everyone. thank you again all for your support and i have many ideas and works to share with you all.
want to be added to my tag list? send me a message, comment or reblog.
Y/N picks up her cup from the fancy Nespresso machine at home and brings it to her lip to sip on her decaffeinated latte. Too much caffeine isn’t good this late in the afternoon even if you’ve been up since five in the morning.
Working with several time zones across the world from North America, Europe, Asia, and even as far as Australia from her Vancouver office should’ve been something she’s gotten used to even with an expanded team of assistants, managers and scouts but it’s always something new every time.
It’s probably why she stuck with this idea that sounded so crazy when she was in the last few months of her bachelor’s degree, contemplating what to do even if she had that safe cubicle office job in corporate lined up.
She tolerated that job for as long as she could, boring, long but stable hours, and great benefits until she could get her matchmaking business idea afloat. If it didn't work out, she’d have something to fall back on.
Several years later, many of the clients of the business whom she’d never met because she was so low in the hierarchy ladder that her boss’ boss would meet them and she’d only make the PowerPoint for. They were now consulting her on how to find a suitable match for their nepotism babies within wealthy, upper class circles, who’d they be most compatible with and what match would do best for their image and success.
The secret to her success is not much of a secret in an industry like this or in any corporate-esque environment, hard work, networking with the right people at the right time, and the perfect amount of good luck. Long forgotten was that embarrassing incident when her oil-tycoon ex-boyfriend proposed and she turned him down by the fountain in his mansion.
Besides, she’s not naive that she needs to innovate and get ahead of the curve before someone tries to steal her idea and bank on it. Besides, the price for her services honestly is cheap for the amount of work she does, even if it’s been raised annually but the secrecy and connections she provides is second to none.
She can’t make some app like Tinder, Bumble or god forbid Raya, that’s been democratized to the gods that it’s lost its prestige and exclusive clientele that made it so exciting in the first place. Let those apps continue to work like crap and it only draws more and more people to her business.
Opening up the folder organized under the new client documents, the name “Quinn Hughes” pops up. She’s vaguely aware of him, coming from the city, living and working near downtown Vancouver where you can’t quite escape anything Canucks even at her Marshalls store.
Captain, a defenseman in hockey, makes $7.85 million a year (and based on her staff reports, projected to guarantee to make above $10 million on his next contract), scruffy beard, handsome, on the quieter side, and based on the personal profile, is trying to retire his skates from the arena of hook ups and flying out girls.
A secretary notes on his profile even the most minute details like his blunder of when he got caught flying a girl out when he pulled over with his car and she looked absolutely pissed and nothing ever came up about it. Of course it was understood and unspoken that rich, handsome, young athletes at the prime of their career did such a thing, but with PR, at least be discrete about it.
No further incidents occurred after such an error and it quieted down by ignoring and pretending it never happened. Browsing through his public instagram and especially his following distinguishing girls he knows because of his profession and the type of girls he’s interested in, she thinks she has an idea on what matches he’d be looking for.
A preliminary list of some girls of various professions his age have been considered, but nothing serious or committed until they meet for lunch later in the afternoon to get to know more of him and have a greater idea of what he’s into.
Y/N takes another sip of her coffee, shaking her head with an amused expression at her new client. This surely wasn’t the first time she’s dealt with athletes, football, soccer, hockey, just as likely as dealing with businessmen or former nobility whose grandfathers lost their family fortune in bad investments or to revolutions, but surely something was sticking out to her.
Perhaps there’s something missing why this guy hasn’t settled down yet, with no judgment, of course. Usually guys like him would have girls lining up to transition from hook up to long-term girlfriend, wife, and pop out a few babies or him and turn a blind eye for infidelity. Hmm, picky.
Of course he’ll be a piece of work who’ll be quite the nightmare to find a suitable girl to pair him with. There's got to be someone out there?
Quinn doesn’t know what to wear. He’s going through his closet as if this was his official walk-in for games now that the dress code was gone, but this was just lunch getting to know the matchmaker and whether this was a fit for what he was looking for.
There was his classic sweatshirt but that seems too casual and not a great first impression. This navy blue sweater made from pure merino wool was a classic staple for this rainy weather now that summer turned into fall much later than usual, through the breeze, overcast skies, and soaked leaves underneath his white Air Forces.
He brought it closer to him as he took it by the hanger, but put it back in repulse when he remembers his ex-girlfriend bought this very sweater for him from her stint in New York City for a photoshoot.
He wouldn’t bring a piece of her with him when he was trying to move on. However, he couldn’t give this up, even with her memory and scent all over it, it was comfortable, and easier to pair with anything for a reason.
The sweater was steamed and set aside for the meeting. Just as he was about to put it over his plain white t-shirt, his phone buzzed from a message flashing from DNI. Quinn sighed, his fingers hovering over the option to block the contact.
“Hey, can we talk? I miss you so much and it was a mistake that I even thought to leave.”
Quinn gathers the courage to finally block her for good, a sense of relief springing from his looser shoulders already. He sighed before he put his phone in his pocket.
The office building faced the Waterfront, and Quinn walked up to the lobby after he parked in the complimentary free parking through your office. He kept looking at his phone and taking it out from his pocket as he waited for you to buzz him in through the doors and up the elevator to your office on the twenty-second floor.
The brightly-lit elevator of the newly-constructed building was minimalist, luxurious, clean and decorated with avant-garde art, and matched who he assumed could afford rent in such a building.
He steps out of the elevator as the door chimes and lets him out, turning left down the hallway to where the door of your office stood. “Perfect Match Inc” was on a metal sign on the plain oak door, windows into the office opaquely clouded in white to not reveal what was inside.
His text notifications rung from the automated text number your service provided, with a unique code for clients that would be provided before every visit. A satisfying click sounded as the door light turned green, and he opened the door to enter the office.
Quinn was greeted with a luscious, yet homey and comfortable office, with a young, brunette receptionist greeting him with a smile, not a smidge of her perfectly groomed hair or makeup out of place.
“Mr. Hughes, Welcome to Perfect Match. Ms Y/N has been notified of your arrival and will join you shortly.”
He nods politely with a meek smile. “Thank you.”
”Please feel free to enjoy some refreshments, drinks, snacks, whatever you need. Coffee? Tea?”
”I should be okay, thank you.” He waves her off, appraising the expansive array of fancy Nespresso and Keurig machines, next to a batch of gourmet cookies, mini cakes, sandwiches and cocktail food like sausages, hotdogs and salami.
Quinn sits on the plush obsidian chair by the lobby, taking in the view of the office before aimlessly scrolling through his phone on endless updates and messages from the Canucks group chat and his work emails.
Y/N steps out of her office in an all-white suit, with a simple gold necklace and matching earrings, and smiles when they make eye contact.
“Quinn? I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”
He stood up and shook her hand with an affirmative nod. “Pleasure.”
“I’ve seen your profile. It’s impressive, of course, being captain to a hockey-obsessed city like Vancouver, but I can imagine it can come with some complications.”
Quinn sighs, relieved she understood his unique dilemma. “It’s both a blessing and a curse. I’m thankful I’m known for my game, and it brings me some clout to the city, but it’s hard to tell who really wants me for me.”
She attempts to hold back a laugh scrolling on his Instagram followings, and the log on his Raya account interactions, alongside his profile.
“You don’t have a problem with attention, but what I’m thinking is you’re looking for something more substantive?”
He nods, putting his cappuccino mug on the table. “I’ve had my fun with no strings attached, but they’re starting to feel hollow. Someone recommended to me that through you, you could at least vouch for the girls I end up dating.”
After setting aside her file, she looks him in the eye and nods with sympathy. “Of course, it’s not the first time I’ve heard of such worries for someone of your profile nowadays. It’s hard to trust people and know whether they want something from you or genuinely want you for you.”
“It really is. I remember this one girl- god I won’t even say her name. I flew her in and then she was in the passenger seat after a game and people saw her. She was just rolling her eyes and it was so embarrassing that she kept trying to milk that situation after we stopped talking, and get my attention again.” Quinn rubbed his face, almost humiliated at the memory.
She taps her pen against the desk. “I saw that clip in your file, but fortunately your PR team has done a great job scrubbing that from the internet for people to forget. I can assure you that even if you end up going on dates with some influencers I’ve communicated with, they aren’t those types. I do want to start with what your type of girl usually is?” Y/N chuckles. “I can’t quite start without that. I don’t know who to recommend to you before this step.”
Quinn tucks his phone into his pocket, trying to avoid the inevitable but also the very reason why he is here in the first place. Why the hell can’t you think of something? Someone? What do I even want?
“What do I want from a girl? From someone who I could end up spending the rest of my life with? I want someone who just does not want what the lifestyle of being with me offers, but sees who I am. Who I truly am. I’m not the most extroverted person. I can be awkward sometimes, but I mean well on my own terms. I’d hope to find someone who understands what comes with being with a person like me, always under the spotlight.”
She looks back and forth between typing on her laptop and at him, nodding patiently and beckoning him to continue.
“For her occupation? I do like my privacy, so I wouldn’t want to be on some influencer’s weekly vlog or something. I wouldn’t mind if she has a rather public job if we can really connect, but that I won’t be part of her content. Other than that, I’d just want to meet someone I can trust, who can also talk to me about something that isn’t hockey even when my brain is so wired to it.”
The click of the keyboard as she hits the enter button to save the document echoes loudly between them. Y/N smiles as she looks up.
“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll go through the girls you may be interested in speaking with. I’m sure we can find someone. I can guarantee that.”
Y/N recognizes the familiar hope on his usually forlorn face on many of her clients, how his tired eyes seem more green in this light. She turns away again before she finds herself staring too long.
She shouldn’t stare at him - he’s a VIP client, for god’s sake! Not how his hair swoops over his temple, how his adam’s apple bobs, the slope of his nose-
How can she find someone for him if she wants him for herself?
summary: quinn's canadian gf is faced with the difficult choice whether to wear his USA wag jacket or rep her homeland
word count: 1.8k words
a/n: this took longer than expected, but thank you especially to @ruinix for helping me get out this rut. dedicating this to my darling princess <3 hope you enjoy. your request i will be working on as soon as i can.
as always i appreciate your comments, and requests as i love hearing what others think of my work and what more they'd like to see from me ^_^
warnings: NSFW 18+, sexual content, cumming, p in v penetration, light voyeurism, slight (manipulation)?, maybe more that i've missed
REQUESTS (open)
You were lounging on one of the beach chairs with your sunglasses perched on your nose when you heard the commotion inside the beach house. Not wanting to miss out, you stood up and walked over to where Quinn and his family stood around excitedly.
Everyone was glued to their phones with smiles on their faces, and for a trip deemed to be as off screen time as much possible, it piqued your interest.
“I got invited to the Team USA development camp!” Luke quips first, all giddy as he holds his phone to his chest like a little boy all over again.
“Me too!” Jack retorts, taking his hat off before dapping up Luke.
Quinn watches proudly with an iced vodka in his hands, drinking casually as he was comfortable he was already guaranteed to be called up and his brothers had the chance to join him on Olympic stage.
You walk over towards his side, and he quickly hooks an arm wrapped around your waist.
“Congrats, guys!” You cheered, before they pulled you away from Quinn and each hugged you too.
Jack looks over at Quinn with a mischievous expression. “Bro, you’re all sitting pretty here because you were already guaranteed to be called up as the first six!”
“Yeah, but there’s a chance you all join me.”
Luke chuckles just as their parents walk out into the patio by the beach of the lake house, and congratulate them.
Quinn returns to his side, looking at you with a wide grin as you squeeze his arm and brush your forehead against his. “I’m so proud of you, baby. I can’t imagine how happy you are.”
He kisses your temple, bringing you closer to him as he takes in the perfume he gifted you. “Thank you, my love.”
“What jersey will you be wearing, Miss Canadian?” Jack retorts jokingly. "We can't have a traitor among us."
Quinn just breaks out into a smile, trying not to be bothered or look excited at the prospect of you, a Canadian, to wear his jersey with his number and name in blue, red and white.
“We’ll see about that.”
...
You were checking your emails when a vaguely familiar name showed up on the brightness of your screen.
As you clicked the link, the email showed up on your screen from the head WAG of the Team USA roster. It was the design chosen for what the wives, girlfriends, even the kids and pets of the American male hockey Olympian team would wear.
It came in a cerulean blue matching the design USA Hockey went for this year, red and white splattered in bold letters and a softer attempt of stars with hints of glitter on those patches and embroidered elements.
You’ve had this conversation with Quinn before, and he’s been clear that your nationalities and where you were born and raised isn’t something you picked. If you wanted to go to Milan with him and don the jersey with his name and number.
The suggestive look sizzling in posessiveness could not be ignored when the topic would resurface among you in casual conversations, which did not feel that casual that you could see his brain burn in the image of you wearing his nation's jersey like you would wear the Canucks one back home.
The plain Canadian Olympic jersey was already on pre-order for you just in time for January and before you'd pack jet setted and ready for Milano so that was always an option.
You hesitated before you applied and filled in the form page requesting your own Quinn Hughes WAG jersey to be shipped to your shared apartment address in Vancouver. It would mean so much to him, and he wouldn't be able to keep his hands away from you if he found out.
...
"What's this package of yours, baby?"
"Oh my god, Quinn - you nearly scared me!"
You chuckled with a hand on your heart, relieved it was just Quinn who was in your apartment and not some intruder.
"Sorry, baby. I was about to tell you I was here, but you seemed focus and I got so distracted by this mail that's for you."
He hands you the mysterious box that had a giant red "CONFIDENTIAL" sticker just under the sticker with your name and address on it. You looked underneath the paper tucked into the plastic layer, and it was from USA Hockey.
"It's my jersey for the Olympics, Huggy!" You gasped excitedly, opening it up with a box cutter and holding it up for him to see. You pressed the jersey zip up jacket acorss your torso to see if it was the right size.
"It fits you perfectly, dove. Can you try it on for me? Please?" Quinn pleads with a husky tone, his eyes dilated at you suggestively. Of course, you could not resist if he'd ask you like that.
"Sure." You can only manage a squeak by how shaky your legs feel by his intense stare, hands trembling as you put the jacket down to remove your top until your chest was bare.
Quinn smirks amusedly. "Ah - no shirt inside? You dirty, dirty girl." He pretends to tutt his tongue disapprovingly, but the wicked grin on his face said otherwise.
He grabs the polaroid camera on the desk of your office, and snaps a photo of your chest just from your hips up and just below your chin visible, just the jacket covering you.
"What's that for?"
"A special memory for me." Quinn winks mischievously before walking away, leaving you aghast in disbelief at his audacity.
...
You've packed your luggage for your two weeks in Milano in advance, checking again and again both your jacket and jersey were in the there before your flight. It was too crowded to be able to fly in as early as Quinn did with the Team USA private jet, so you were taking the red eye the next day.
Delirious from jet lag, you luckily snagged a room at an expensive hotel even a year before Olympics guests would flog into the city, and you were in a different hotel than where Quinn would stay with his team. You called and videocalled him once you landed safely, just as he did for you last night.
You don't see him before you're waiting in the stands of the arena at the first USA round robin game, wearing the USA WAG jacket alongside the wives and girlfriends of the other players.
Sitting close to the rink, Quinn is able to spot you at the end of the first period against Slovakia, a smile growing on his face when he sees you donning the dark blue proudly.
It isn't until the day before the round robin game against Canada can you spare a time for dinner with him that isn't tied to the hip with Team USA hockey players and staff.
When you're sitting across one another in this trendy bar not far from the Olympic complex when the question comes up.
"So, have you decided what you would wear tomorrow?" Quinn asks curiously with a hopeful smile, hands twirling the spaghetti on his fork before he feeds it to himself.
"Wear what?"
"Which jacket will you wear for the Canada-US game tomorrow?"
You chuckled, with the jet lag and sitting through the games amidst a very passionate Olympic crowd making you almost forget it. You've been unable to watch any of the Canadian games in person unfortunately as they'd sometimes hapen simultaneously as the US games you watch for Quinn.
When you weren't seeing his games and trying to enjoy the thrill in the city with the Olympic fervour with those around the world coming in to support their countries , youd take the time to catch up on sleep or help Quinn destress from the pressure in the sheets in your hotel room.
"Hmm, I don't know. Crosby's gonna be there, I'm surely gonna represent him." You pretended to consider it, looking up exaggeratedly with a smile on your face.
Quinn breaks out laughing, scratching the growing beard around his jaw. "Come on now! For me? You've worn it for every other day, god forbid Sidney Crosby of all people are number one to you before me!"
"Well, you have to convince me. When Canada is guaranteed to be in the gold medal game, you know who I will represent there, whether you will be there or not." You teasingly chide, pasta on your plate forgotten.
"Oh, I'll convince you alright." Quinn was a man of his word, and you knew he would fulfill his promises beyond your wildest fantasies.
When you returned to your hotel room, he demanded you strip to nothing and just wear the USA jacket. You put it on with shaky hands, and commanded you turn around, the number and name imprinted on the back.
He approached you slowly like a predator to his prey, before he strikes a firm hand on your behind just below the hem. You squeal in surprise, the sting of the pain becoming more delicious as it lingers.
"You are so brave talking with that big mouth of yours that you'll disobey me, humiliate me, not stand by me, hm? Does my girl not love her daddy anymore?"
You whined, shaking your head. "No, daddy. I-I didn't mean it. I only want your attention, and was just playing. I'll wear your jacket."
Quinn smirked victoriously like a cat who got the cream, swiping at the wetness in the slick between your thighs. "You're dripping for me, doll. Who knew you'd be panting and gushing around nothing at the idea of wearing my jersey over your own country while wearing it and nothing else."
His other hand grabs at your chin to pull you into a kiss, which you eagerly respond and pull him closer to you.
You fumble with the buttons of his trousers, tugging it down impatiently alongside his boxers.
"Aht, aht! You're so eager aren't you, doll. Tell me what you want and you will have it." He scolds, eyes narrowing as he tugs on your hair and you whine at the sensation.
"I want your cock, daddy. Please! Fuck me in this jacket with your name, that claims I am yours just as much as you claim me to the world."
He barely waits before plunging into you without warning, to the hilt as he sharply groans while you moan in satisfaction that you got what you wanted.
His nails dig into your hips, as he thrusts into you mercilessly, peppering kisses to the side of your neck. You close your eyes lost in the pleasure, imprinting himself onto you, his scent, his warmth.
Every time you wear the jacket, you think of how he took you, and would never make you think of anything else but him, him, him.
The Canadian jersey hung up in your hotel room closet went unnoticed.
...
Bonus:
He grabs your Canada jersey hung up from your closet and throws it onto your lap. You surely won't think of using this instead of the jersey of his flag, his country, and his name and number proudly on it.
You'd have no more need for this. He'd make sure to take care of that.
SUBMIT YOUR BIRTH CHART!!!! 🔮PLEASE READ IF U WANT A PAID CHART READING !!!! OR A TIP BASED TRANSIT READING !!!! CURRENTLY OFFERING A FREE TAROT READING FROM @princessofthereach WITH THE PURCHASE OF A CHART READING!!!! DOWN ⬇️⬇️⬇️🧎♀️
CHATTING ABOUT:
-My bby love Willy 👼
-We talk all things hockey (esp. Leafs and Bruins) 🏒🍵
-horny type shit 😈
-NHL player astrology, my tumblr bestie babes’ astrology, compatibility with players, and general astrology 🔮 (EXCEPT FOR WILL, I DON’T SHARE!!!!)
-sexy fitness, mental and physical wellness, beauty tips to attract those players 😉
Here are a list of my main tag descriptions for easy access ✨✨✨
HOCKEY SHIT
w. nylander
william nylander
LEAVE WILLIAM NYLANDER ALONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
my Taurus king
leafs lb
toronto maple leafs
am34
auston matthews
a. matthews
LEAVE AUSTON MATTHEWS ALONE!!!!!!!!
NHL astro series🔮- overall/compatibility astrology on understanding the minds of our athletes and for cheat codes 🧠👩💻🙇♀️🧐🤔💗 (except for Willy lol sorry💍👰♀️🤵♂️💒!!!)
After dark series 😈🌠🌙- stay away if ur horny (bc u will be thrown in horny jail after reading these fr‼️‼️⛓️💥🤲⛓️💥🚔🚨)
Willy after dark
Papi after dark
Stolie after dark
Woller after dark
Tea spilling series 🍵
spilling hot tea 🍵
spilling obvious tea 🍵
spilling cold tea 🍵
asks from sexy anons
asks from sexy not anons
New tag alert !!!!
My feral sluts- GANG GANG GANG AYYYY 👅👅👅
OTHER SHIT 💄💪🌱
pucking hot bitches- for fitness, beauty, wellness, etc
pucking fit bitches- fitness, wellness
asks from sexy anons
asks from sexy not anons
Astro series 🔮- general astrology
sexy anon astro series 🔮
sexy not anon astro series 🔮
talking my shit- day in my life
Feral slut mode on
New tag alert !!!!
sex therapy time 🚨🚨🚨
My feral sluts- GANG GANG GANG AYYYY 👅👅👅
****SUBMIT YOUR CHART !!!!****
HOW TO SUBMIT CHART READINGS🔮:
***pls be patient for your reading. ever since i've started i've been bombarded with charts!!! I love it!!! but your bitch has severe ADHD and a life!!!! 💓💓💓
I OFFER:
Big 6- $15-25 (your sun, moon, rising, mercury, Venus and mars in their respective houses), aspects (how planets relate or differ to each other) and compatibility
Full reading- $25+ we can agree on a price since this is a biiiiiig one (big 6 plus your other planets: Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto, midheaven, and north and south node in their respective houses), aspects, and compatibility
Transit- tip only !!!! (where your chart currently is in relation to your birth chart) this 100% explains what is going on in your life atm. If you need advice on relationships, career, love etc this is what you want to know.
Solar return- $15-25 !!!! (your birthday forecast!!!!! 🎂🎉🥳 Gives you a forecast on the year ahead about what to expect, mine was scarily accurate last year fr predicted everything, my new solar return has already been so lit fr !!!!!)
Synastry reading 💖💖💖- $10 (aka compatibility, more compatibility info than a regular reading) I’ll do an actual synastry chart and look at your aspects and houses together as well. Send in your lover’s birth info and yours and I’ll see how compatible you are!!!! I’ll give you advice on love, sex, and communication!!!
You can also ask general questions about your chart and request a player's birth chart analysis for free, I accept tips !!!!
Tips start at $3 !!!!!! ☕️☕️☕️
***These are readings paid bc I put hours into each reading even if it's just Big 6, aspects, and compatibility. I pick up energy and get a sense of you thru your chart when I do a reading; so between picking up energies, my ADHD brain, and reading charts it's a lot!!!! I also have a full time job. All of my knowledge has been compiled from studying astrology and learning about people in general FOR YEARS. I don't pull this out of my ass or put into your info from chat gpt. Astrology is truly my passion and love sharing it with you girlies and reading your charts.
Support TOSCastro
How to request a reading:
Payments for paid birth charts are on a sliding scale basis $15-25, pay as u wish (I don't judge and won't read you any less if you pay the minimum!!!)
1. To buy a reading, please dm me with how much you'll pay and I'll send an invoice link
2. Once I get the payment, you can send me your chart with the instructions below
Submit your chart through DM or Ask:
What you need:
-birth date
-CORRECT birth time (if you’re not sure what it is, legit find it on your birth certificate lol)
-place of birth
-For transit chart: place where you currently live
-For solar return: place where you were on your actual birthday
How to get birth chart:
Click this link below ⬇️ , it takes you right to the page to get your chart from and fill in your info (be careful of the times as it’s a 24 hour clock, but in parentheses it shows the 12 hour clock for my American besties):
www.Astro-Seek.com - Seek and meet people born on the same date as you
Methods to send birth chart:
1. Send a link with your birth info I listed above from Astro-seek.com (pls triple check link works before sending)
2. Screenshots of your completed AND correct birth chart. Your pictures should look like this example from this post. 🔗
3. DM me your birthdate, time of birth, place of birth (I will keep this private if you choose this method and won’t post it with your chart reading)!!!!
If you have questions about how to submit still, ASK!!!!!
PLS GIVE ME FEEDBACK IF I READ YOUR CHART !!!! IT HELPS ME LEARN!!!! 👩🏫👩🏫👩🏫 THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT, LOVE U ALL!!!
summary: you were assigned a bodyguard against your will by your billionaire father, but who knew he would be that tempting, that tantalizing? it shouldn't go this far but can you resist?
word count: 1.1k words
requests/asks
a/n: i haven't written in a while, and wanted to get back into blurbs/writing something a little everyday. this is also my first quinn fanfic and won't be my last! please show your support how you can, any requests, comments, suggestions keeps writers like me writing. hope you can enjoy it! apologies if i'm rather rusty on my smut game, but i'll polish it up over time <3 lmk if you'd like to be added to my tag list
(dividers by @jiyascepter)
Tw: masturbation, (dubious) power dynamics, oral (f receiving), p in v penetration
"I'm your bodyguard. It's in the job description to protect you at all times."
"Well, could you at least 'protect' me from over there?"
This shouldn’t be happening. You shouldn’t even have a bodyguard were it not for your overprotective billionaire father paranoid someone would try to hurt you.
Quinn Hughes waltzes into your life with all mystery, emotions guarded behind his guarded, melancholic demeanour. Your father only wanted the best for you so he was a stand out and highly recommended at a step price to the security agency. So enigmatic he had no trace on the internet when you looked him up.
So when you would show up from a long day with purple and blue blotches around your neck, rope marks around your thighs and wrists, your father grew worried that Quinn was not the man for the job, but you assured him no one else would do the job.
In your apartment, you’d drag him by the collar with your perfectly manicured fingers, and feel his warm lips around yours. His strong grip, the musk of the tobacco perfume you gifted him, the scruff of his beard against your cheeks.
"We can’t do this." He pulls away exasperatedly, but the longing in his eyes would not lie even if his words betrayed him.
“Why not?”
“Because this is not right. I’m supposed to protect you-”
“You’re protecting me the best way you can now, by being here for me.”
You take a deep breath, before grabbing him by the chin so his eyes meet yours.
“Do you trust me, Quinn?”
“Of course.”
“I want this to work. I want us to be together. Don’t you want that too?”
“Yes, more than anything. Even if you’re the last person I should want.”
Quinn closes his eyes as he kisses you hungrily, starved, depraved - nothing like the proper, professional bodyguard and protector he is to the rest of the world when he follows you like a shadow.
He sinks to his knees, fingernails digging into your bare thighs as he looks up at you with darkness and want.
“Let me please you. Don’t you want that?”
“Yes.” You said breathily, how could you resist when such an angel is on his knees so prettily for you, wanting to satisfy you. This is no angel between your legs, but a devil of your wildest dreams.
He hastily pulls up the hem of your dress, salivating at the darkening patch of your panties. Quinn’s fingers press against your clit, as you moaned at the sensation.
His nose presses against you clothed wetness, as he takes in your scent. He tugs your panties down your legs, tucking it into his pocket.
“What will you do with that?” You smirked mischievously, fingers threading between his unruly locks out from their gelled placement.
“You’ll find out.” Without missing a beat, he dives into your core, tongue and fingers messily plunging into your folds without mercy.
You groaned, flailing on your back on the bed behind you. Quinn follows you, grip around your thighs like a vice as he sucks and fingers you like a man starved.
You don’t care he’s supposed to be your bodyguard and lines should not be crossed. Those lines have long been crossed since he arrived at your home and introduced to you.
Not when simply looking at him gives you a jolt of electricity and make your heartbeat like a teenager again. When his rough calloused hands behind your back guides you as you walk, offering a hand when you step out of your bulletproof van.
Not when the slight bump of his nose has been the vision you have when the electric buzz of your toy was against your pussy while he stood outside stoic pretending he never heard a thing.
Your legs shake around his thighs as you see stars, but the vision of him looking up at you with your essence dripping down his nose, splattered around his cheekbones and along the scruff of his jaw and chin is more heavenly.
Quinn looks at you like you are so precious, delicate, and nothing like the depravity he showed you on your cunt. The taste of your own cum on his as he brings you in for a sweeping kiss makes you groan.
You fumble with the buttons of his crisp dress shirt, unbuttoning it without a care. You can buy more damn shirts if he wants. He pulls his arms away from the shirt, so his bare skin is revealed to you.
Your fingers brush against his toned torso and muscular arms, his biceps, forearms, memorizing every vein, crevice of his slightly tanned skin. You look at him with nothing but admiration, and he mirrors the same look, hunger simmering on the surface.
“May I?” Quinn whispers gently, hands ghosting against your clothed ribcage, around your waist,
You nod, and Quinn unzips you from behind, the expensive tweed shrugged off to the side. Only in your bra, you unclasped it and tossed it, so you could reveal yourself to him fully.
He unbuckles his dress pants, and pulls down his boxers so he could be as unclothed as you. Quinn takes a moment to savour the moment, hands hovering all over you.
“How do you want this?” He pleads breathily, patience barely hidden but not wanting to hurt or ruin you.
You lay back on the bed, elbows propped up by your pillows and your silky hair splayed out. Legs parted for him to see without holding back and he groaned.
“Like this.”
Quinn climbs over you, restraint gone as he pulls at your ankles closer to the edge of the bed. He pumps at his swollen, dripping cock, aroused from pleasing you earlier as it nestled between his legs.
“Tell me if it hurts, okay?”
“I promise, you won’t.”
He brushes his tip over your sweltering folds, and you whine at the sensitivity.
“Don’t tease.”
Quinn chuckles darkly at seeing you so pathetic, so desperate for him, for his cock. For him to fuck you so hard you cannot feel where he ends and where you begin. To add to the marks he’s added on his beautiful canvas that is your skin.
He enters you with ease, moaning at the tightness you wrap him around. He tightens his fists and forearms between your head, as he kisses you, suckling at your tongue, the insides of your cheek.
You moan, crying out his name as he pummels into you, kissing your cervix, felt deep in your core. You would not trade this for the world, your illicit affairs, your hidden secrets, where positions, money, privileges and contracts meant nothing.
Quinn looks at you like no one else matters, knows your body better than you known your own, when his cock molds into your walls, when the feeling of his cum between your legs drips after you fucked or even when you walk in your office. No one will know. It's your secret with him, you against the world.
Another modern!jace x reader social media, maybeee drama w sara snow😈😈😈
a/n: i’m glad someone got that hint and asked for a sequel hehe 🤭🤭this can be a stand alone or seen as a sequel.
part one
masterlist
asks OPEN
let me know if you’d like to be added to my jace masterlist or a masterlist for all my work in general. thanks for the love and support, and most importantly, your patience. I’m trying to update more often between life, and will be able to provide more stuff soon!
i love hearing what you think of my work, and what more you’d like to see from me. 🥰
Did You Like Her In The Morning? (Modern! Jacaerys Velaryon x Female Reader, Sara Snow x Jacaerys Velaryon (unrequited))
spamacc
;)
liked by spamaccount287 and others
user916 hold on- isn’t that?
usernamehere isn’t that jacaerys velaryon?
↪️ random225 yeah that is him 😒disappointed but not surprised
user3842 men ain’t shit! we been knew
username93661 this has to be sara snows snap i know it
↪️person888 i mean who else!
yourusername
with best boy vermax 🥹
liked by baelatargs, rhaenat and others
nettlesishere love you girl!
liked by yourusername
user97 does she not know?
↪️ accountname66 i think she does or pretends it doesn’t bother her 😞
↪️fan7518 poor y/n 😔
↪️hater473 she’s probably staying with him for the money and turning a blind eye to his cheating she ain’t poor she knows what she got into
↪️username9200 you’re such a misogynistic pos making assumptions like that about someone you don’t know and when we don’t know the full story clown
lucerysvelaryon come over for dinner again sometime! it’s been too long!
↪️ yourusername i’ll see you guys soon i promise! miss you my family 🥰
jacaerysvelaryon
suns out.
liked by helaena.buggirl and others
fan638 oh and then he’s hanging out with her brother :/ he’s a cheater pos
↪️usernamehere i’m not a fan or anything but jace and cregan have been friends long before y/n or sara snow were in the picture ok let’s not jump into assumptions
jacaerysvelaryon y/n took this actually :)
↪️ other827 doesn’t negate the fact you’re a cheater 👀
↪️user1511 we don’t know the whole story guys stop
yourusername shared a story
yourusername’s story can no longer be found.
jacaerysvelaryon
liked by rhaenyratargs and others
i don’t like sharing information about me or my loved ones i’d like to keep private, but i’m here to clear up any misunderstandings. i’ve been together with y/n for years and never been with anyone else since. a former fling of mine and my best friends sister has dishonestly posted some private moments i had with her before i got together with y/n, and ive never talked to her since, and spoke with her to cut things off and make it clear im never getting back with her. please respect me and my girlfriend as we navigate this, and leave us the fuck alone.
The Reluctant Empress (Jacaerys Velaryon x Female!Reader)
Act II. Burgeoning
(19th Century Imperial Austria AU)
summary: crown prince jacaerys gets to know his prospect betrothed and future bride whom he has been arranged with to marry, your sister helaena targaryen, but true to your wild spirit, you cannot help but wonder what awaits in the world behind gilded castles and royal splendour.
word count: 2.4k words
a/n: i'm so sorry this took an entire year before an update but it is finally here! i apologize as I had some health things to settle, and with brain fog and got more distracted by other fandoms but here we go! once again, please comment and share what you liked, what you'd want more for me and request and let me know as my inbox is always open <3 let me know if you want to be on the taglist or not getting tags!
series masterlist
previously: prologue | act i
masterlist
requests OPEN
“Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.”
― William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar
Seated between her mother and sister, Y/N eyes roamed around the dining hall in the palace that hosted the royal family and her covey. Changed into an emerald green gown, wearing the necklace and earrings her father gave her on the last name day before his passing, she paid no mind to the significance of the occasion and was just glad to be there, surrounded in the splendor of the castle walls.
She knew that it was Helaena’s time to shine, and she would not want to rob her of her light, of the opportunity that would change their fortunes and not have Alicent scrabbling and worrying over the last penny of their expenses.
Twirling her fork on the pesto noodles in front of her, Y/N remained silent and just patiently listened to all the conversation around her, between her mother and her childhood friend the Queen, who inquired about Helaena’s well being, her lifestyle and assessing on how she would adjust becoming the next consort upon wedding Jacaerys.
Dazed out in a world of her own, Y/N did not hear Jacaerys reverting his attention to her aptly, until her sister nudged her ankle with her shoe, repeating her name on his tongue like it was the sweetest honey, curiosity and amusement on his features.
“Lady Y/N, what do you do in your free time, my lady?”
Stammering like a cat bit her tongue, she cleared her throat as she gathered herself and make her look and sound presentable.
“I ride horses, my prince. I hunt and I have picked up the sword a few times.” Lady Y/N bluntly replied, already feeling the burning glare of your embarrassed mother. Queen Rhaenyra only watches in amusement, how her confidante could have a daughter who was nothing like her mother.
Jacaerys was intrigued, leaning forward to hear Y/N better and scooch closer over to Her. A curious smile on his handsome, chiseled face, his curly brown hair starting to grow out and neatly groomed behind his ears.
Plates and utensils remained untouched as Y/N and Jacaerys were engrossed in an engaging, animated conversation, passionate replies to uncontrollable laughter.
The older women present at the table watched with trepidation, Lady Alicent’s habits of digging into her fingernails returned while the silver-haired queen’s expression turned unreadable.
Helaena swallowed her wounded pride of being ignored and not found as an interesting companion, playing with her knife and fork, digging at the roast beef the same way her young daughter would.
As the servants gather the finished main course meals and replace them with fresh fruit and lemon cakes for dessert, Rhaenyra swiftly suggests for the elder Targaryen sister to read out some of the poetry her mother praised earlier.
“You must share with us your talent in verse and poetry, Lady Helaena.”
Relieved, the indigo hued girl stood up at the end of the table, grabbing her little booklet hidden in the pockets of her skirt. Flipping through its parchment pages, she settles to a recent entry close to the end of the worn out leather bound book, covered with an embroidered beetle.
To want is the most natural thing
Inherent in the blood through our veins
The very primal urge of our being
Yet we will always want, and want
With no end like a black hole
What better to want what is not ours?
To covet what the other possesses
To take away what is given as easily as it was owned?
Her raspy voice echoed through the halls mellifluously in perfectly rehearsed High Valyrian. Yet you could not help a guilty perception weighing on you, blossoming at the pit of your stomach and you could not shake it off. You were doing nothing wrong, you told yourself, wanting to believe in it but it felt wrong.
Y/N’s fears arose to the surface when she could feel a burning stare on her face intensely, as if memorizing her very form and that she would disappear into nothing anytime. You were listening as intently as you could, yet when you turned, Jacaerys did not pay mind to a single word Helaena said as his focus was fixated on you.
No, no, no. Nothing was going as planned. Everything was going wrong. She praises whatever gods intervened when the heir’s brother Prince Lucerys gracefully diverted the topic into the new cuisines created by the cooks of the Keep with the freshest catches of seafood from Driftmark.
…
“Y/N, what do you think you were doing out there?! Do you think I do not notice your need to always be the centre of attention?” The shrill shrieking of her mother’s voice pierced through her ear drums, yet Y/N was unsurprised and used to such altercations with her mother.
Following the uneasy supper, the three ladies from Dalston Keep returned to their chambers to change midday in preparation for the tour around the gardens with the queen and her heir again after a few hours of respite.
Silently humiliated as they reconvened in private, the illusion of propriety that Lady Alicent carried in front of the queen and prince ripped away, unleashing a ferocity unrestrained like never before.
“I did nothing, mother. I was polite and engaged in a conversation when I was spoken to.”
“You did more than that, you foolish girl! It was about your sister. All of this was about her, not you! Is it so difficult for you to tone down your tendencies for once so we can go according to the arrangement? You put our fortunes up to be desolated. You are as careless as your father!” The sting of her final words hung in the air, salt over the open wound for such a loss. Y/N knew her mother did not love her father, who was older than her own father, and only did her duty to her ailing, troubled, aging husband.
“Mother, that is enough! Do not bring father into this.” Helaena countered exasperatedly, holding onto her sister by her shoulders in defense. “Y/N did nothing wrong. It was..it was me. I should have engaged with the prince more. She did me a favour.”
Y/N gasps in disbelief, astonished her beloved sister would keep taking her side when it was clear she was the wounded party.
“Do not worry about it, mother. I promise I will remain silent from now on. I want this to be Helaena’s night.” Y/N swears sincerely, wanting to defend Helaena and stay away from any trouble from now on.
Alicent does not fully believe her youngest, but nods solemnly as she seeks to move this behind them, returning to her dignified, contemplating gaze with her perfect posture and arms clasped at her waist.
Subsequently, a drove of maids and seamstresses poured in, as Alicent went to her solitary room while the sisters shared a larger room. Each stepped on the raised wooden platform. Taking lush gowns from the closet, they plucked out a rich emerald green gown with fitted sleeves for Helaena.
Meanwhile, a muted seafoam gown was placed on Y/N, as maids scuttered behind her to tighten the corset and laces. Y/N whimpered quietly in discomfort, never finding any gratification in restrictive court dress upheld by centuries of protocol and conduct. It barred her sense of freedom, clipped off her wings from flight and reminded her of a bird in a cage.
Heirloom pieces of emerald silver lined jewelry were given to Helaena, designed to accentuate her beauty and prepare her for her upcoming role and ascent into her duty. As the daylight trickled in through the lace curtains and open windows, she looked like a future queen. A role she was raised to be. Otherworldly and ethereal, while Y/N was grounded to the earth, locks like flames and soil.
Y/N beamed in delight for her older sister, squeezing her hands in reassurance. Helaena reciprocated not as enthusiastically, the nerves still getting to her as her palms were sweating and shaking.
“You have nothing to worry about, Hel. We would not get this far if he did not consider you his bride already.”
“Truly, do you really think so?”
“I do. Without a doubt. You already look the part. It is only the formality left we are waiting for at the ball.”
The elder genuinely chuckled this time in relief, her joy finally meeting her eyes from the comfort and encouragement of her sister.
“Now, all that is left is for you to step into your destiny.”
…
Manicured gardens flourished in the peak of spring, cicadas chirping from the branches of oak trees. Lilies and carnations in hues of apricot and blush, while the outlying paths were paved in blue hydrangeas and violet peonies.
Queen Rhaenyra adorned a lapis lazuli blue gown adorned in gold trimmings and sapphires sewn onto her bodice, matching the stone necklace of the color on her neck and matched her tiara, a reminder of her late mother and former queen.
She pleasantly strolled with a natural confidence, carrying herself with an ease afforded by one who has known privilege and power all her life. Guiding a tour around the Red Keep at the height of its social season, Rhaenyra proudly showed off her domains, and subtly if so, the lands that Helaena would take care of as its hostess after she marries Jacaerys and becomes his queen when the time comes.
Behind her was her eldest Crown Prince Jacaerys, always without a hair or trivet out of place, the picture of perfection that she had groomed since his birth. Dressed more casually in teal with the seahorse emblem on his chest, he honoured his late father Lord Laenor Velaryon, further dispelling any rumours or uncertainty around his paternity.
Although he did not directly resemble his father, he has begun to share features with his paternal grandmother Princess Rhaenys with her Baratheon colouring, and the shape of his nose and chin mirrored her father, who was another Prince of Dragonstone, Prince Aemon the Pale Prince. As rider of Vermax, it was undeniable he was the prince long awaited by the realm, whom millions of hopes and dreams were instilled in.
Standing beside him was Lady Helaena Targaryen, his expected betrothed in everything but formality. Raised with the intention of becoming a princess consort, she was demure, shy, obedient and trusting, exactly what the people of Westeros wanted of their model future queen. Proven in her success of childbearing, onlookers examined her critically on baited breath as they wanted to know who will bear the next generation of Targaryen rulers on the Iron Throne.
Their chaperons trailed behind them, Lady Alicent arm in arm with Lady Y/N, in the same shade of muted green, but her mother had visible symbols of the Faith of the Seven from her necklace, her dark headdress and veil, and on the cuffs on her wrist and belt. Y/N distractedly took in her sights, studying every nook and cranny of the storied palace with eagerness and pursuit.
“This garden still follows the design plan created by Queen Rhaenys the Conqueror herself, yet it was only finished years after her passing in Dorne.”
The queen continued the tour of the keep, while she discreetly eavesdropped on the conversation between her heir and his expected betrothed. The two were engaging pleasantly yet amiably on the surface level, their dialogue not reaching too far. Unaware of a figure parting at the fork and heading another direction.
…
When she is assured she’s clear and no one can find her, Y/N Targaryen smirks victoriously as she heads straight and turns left towards the barn, near the dragonpit, where the horses and grazing animals were located.
On nimble footsteps, through the mud and manure, she makes a run for it as two stableboys turn the corner and miss her, as they forgot to close the stables and she sneaks in.
As the afternoon light trickles in, Y/N looks around curiously, before her attention is caught by this white mare, with its freshly brushed mane and shining horsehair, an anomaly among ebony and hickory. Not wanting to startle the majestic creature, she prances until she’s in front of the horse, hushing and cooing at them as she latches onto the reins.
She holds the mane by her reins, tugging gently as she walks through the barn and the empty backwaters of the ancient castle. It is quiet, with most servants resting for their annual nap and their morning duties finished, so Y/N is able to ride the stallion undiscovered.
The lingering scent of the manure and greenery turns into salty waters of aegean and spruce and the earthy, musty petrichor from the rain on the fir and cedar trees earlier in the morning.
A hint of the cool breeze tingles through her skin, a dress and not proper riding gear in its leathers and furs, but she brushes it off, as King’s Landing in the spring at this time of the year has turned warm and the rain from earlier is long gone.
She rides as far as her companion will allow, until the peripheral view of the Red Keep grows distant from over her shoulder. Y/N stops at the fork of the road before it joins the greater Kingsroad, diverting by the forest with towering trees and fallen logs. Sitting by the foot of a trunk, Y/N pauses for some stillness, her back pressing against the hard trunk as she closes her eyes, before grabbing an apple and vial of water to share with her stallion.
As she and the mare finish the fruit, she stands up to brush off any leaf and dirt on the back of her skirt, about to mount once again before she hears echoes of confrontation growing closer. Y/N has barely begun to leave the forest and return to the artery before she is surrounded by hooded, disheveled men with smug expressions.
Unable to avoid contact, she politely acknowledges them and pulls her cape over her flaming locks before she is stopped from moving in either direction. “Good morrow, sirs.”
She yelps as she’s grabbed by her wrists by the men, struggling to stay on her saddle as the mare turns skittish. “Not so fast, my lady. We need something from ya, and you gotta pay up for our silence. Comes with a price.” The men smirk, distant galloping approaching them.
Y/N yelps as she is knocked off her horse, hitting her head against the rock and all turns into darkness around her. She hears a distant echo of another mount heading her way, furious yelling and clattering swords. Her head throbs, feeling the blood dripping down her nape, as her eyes flutter closed.
Hey everyone! Wanted to give an update on the fic ideas I've got cooking so far, share my progress and build up excitement on what you'd like me to finish and publish first! (Don't worry I haven't forgotten my ongoing series and requests)
As always, please let me know what you think, I live for any interaction you give me, reblogs and comments who help me be encouraged to share this with everyone.
My requests remain open, and thank you for your patience.
masterlist
requests OPEN
status: just came up with fic idea and made poster, after brainstorming with my muse @hxtd
summary/premise: y/n is feeling the effects of inflation as bills rise and tuition is due for school soon. good thing her friend jace, who happens to just be the grandson of the targaryen corporation chairman and hails from the richest family in existence. he promises to support her with no interest and due date to pay him back, other than to accompany him in return to events so they stop pestering him to find a girlfriend. rule number one? no feelings.
deals with mentions of the dark sides of sugaring, critically looking at sugaring, relying on rich men, nightlife, if you've seen baby (2019) on netflix
status: poster, summary, brainstormed idea
summary/premise: reader is determined to get her husband back after the battle of the gullet. she uses magic to bring him back to life. he looks like jace, if you ignore the scars, and acts just like he did before, but it's slightly off. some horror elements if you squint.
status: around 900~ words, sections written out of what to put, out of my fics the one most written already
summary/premise: like how Otto Hightower made his daughter wear her mother's old dresses to become the future queen, Y/N Celtigar hears of this and tries to see if the trick will still work for newly widowed Prince Jacaerys Velaryon after his late wife Baela passed in battle.
status: poster, summary and idea
summary/premise: Inspired heavily by The Great as poster implies, Y/N Targaryen firmly believes in a prophecy her dear sister Helaena has shared one night, that she was meant for greatness, with a crown on her head as queen. enticed with grandeur for sketches and daydreaming of plans of how to improve westeros and rule, she knows her greatest shot to be queen is to get jace's fancy and convince her father the king and her mother the crown princess that there was no other option for his consort but her. no seduction at first, more teasing and brain games. smut to follow in later chapters if sequels turn the one shot to a series
status: poster, summary, ideas
summary/premise: Reader was always the awkward one at King's Landing Academy, never fitting in, but Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to Targaryen Corp and descendant of one of the school's founders, never saw a reason to treat her otherwise. Until after one summer she shows up all glowed up, teenage features polished after puberty finally kicked in, and she learned how to do her hair, makeup and style herself to what suited her best. Now suddenly all the boys want her attention, and Jace ain't having it, knowing how superficial they were, and well, weren't there before she became the beauty standard.
status: just the poster, idea and summary written up
summary: dealing with post partum mood swings and balancing wife of the heir duties, jacaerys being the most respectful husband and doting father never rushing you, just an angel, smut and all, just loving worship sex
(Modern! Jace Velaryon x Female!Reader) Social Media AU
summary: Modern Jacaerys Velaryon is an heir to the Targaryen Corp, and also has a decent following on social media. You and him have the best time together, making the most out of life being young, beautiful and successful. Spot the cameos of our other HOTD characters in a lot less stressful circumstance where everyone gets along in modern day. 😅
a/n: please keep sending in your requests! i love hearing and writing for you guys. i’ll get them back to you as soon as possible alongside a ton of original work i plan to share. will post a previews of my upcoming work with their posters and all.
masterlist
requests OPEN
yourusername
liked by rhaenyratargaryen, laenorvel and others
date night with the love of my life
sarasnow hope you had a blast lovelies!!
liked by yourusername
↩️ random63 wasn’t sara rumoured to be jaces fling situationship before he got with y/n? 👀👀
↩️ person173 i think so but she cregan and jace have made it clear they’re all just close friends
↩️ user649 ofc sure 🤔
rhaenyratargaryen love you my darlings
↩️ yourusername love you too mama nyra 🩷🩷🫂
↩️ user0092 oh she got his ceo mamas approval this is SERIOUS
yourusername
⭐️
liked by laenavelaryon, sabithafrey and others
user725 she’s making the targ heir work for her i love it
↩️ fan92 as men should
liked by yourusername, baelatargs and rhaenatargeryen
alyblackwood you deserve it girl 😌
↩️ yourusername thanks pookie 😙
username366 wish my man would treat me like this too 😓
user271 now where is this dress from?
↩️ yourusername it’s @/versace luv!
jacaerysvelaryon
ibiza
taken by the beautiful @/ yourusername
liked by oscartully, joffreyv and others
baelatargs and where are the pictures of her? sick of seeing your face 😤
↩️helaenasbugs yes where is she?? 🤭
↩️ yourusername dw girls my pic dumps are coming soon 😭
yourusername youre so stunning baby
↩️jacesvelaryons no you are stunning babe
↩️lucerysvelaryon get a room please…
randomuser now why does joffrey have an ig he’s too young 🤔
↩️ rhaenatargs it’s just for roblox and minecraft updates he’s fine trust me 😭😭
yourusername
it’s all sea blue and sand from here. 🐚
liked by addamhull, yourgirlnettles and others
usernamehere oh to be the targaryen corp heir’s gf living a life of luxury
↩️ randomuser887 she’s a gold digger 😒
↩️ person1124 she don’t need no gold she comes from a comfortable family herself lol
↩️ user98 you’d go for the gold too imagine the life and besides he’s cute smart respectful and a gentleman i’d date him even if he was broke
↩️fan120 real
itsyourgirlnettles missed you luv! come over at driftmark more often
↩️ yourusername i don’t see you enough! promise we’ll hang one on one time more
↩️itsyourgirlnettles good luck to me to get your man off your arm even just for a few hours with ya lol
jacaerysvelaryon posted a story
creganstark
night out with the best bro
liked by kermitully, oneyedaemond and others
yourusername get home safely boys!
↩️usernamehere why didn’t you go girlie?
↩️ yourusername i’m always invited but im a grannie im in bed by 10 pm with a book winding down for the night 😅i come sometimes
↩️creganstark yeahhh you should come next time! had to deal with him fawning over you again 😐 don’t want your ego to get any bigger
↩️ yourusername hey! i’ll come next time i promise and my ego ain’t changing stark
jacaerysvelaryon missed you there my muse at my new set
↩️ yourusername i’ll be there next time i promise 😅 you know this isn’t my crowd but I’ll go for you
↩️ jacaerysvelaryon you missed my dedicated song to you last night i’ll have to play it again next time 😔
aegondeux yoo invite me over next time missed out the fun again
↩️helaenasbugs too busy at the bar that’s why 😒 why did you get out of rehab idiot
could you do a tom blyth social media ai where sadie sink is the faceclaim!?
hi my love, of course. i hope you like it! please continue to comment, like, subscribe send me requests or just hit my asks to let me know how i’m doing.
sorry this took so long 😭
auburn hair (tom blyth x actress!reader social media au)
masterlist
requests OPEN
yourusername
new do, who’s this?
liked by tomblyth, justinbieber, chloebailey and others
alexconsani what’s ya name B.O.B so they calling you BAWB
↩️ yourusername i hesitated on the bob until you talked me into it now you do this 😭😭u make me sick
ayoedibiri wifey in white
↩️ yourusername ilysmm
hallebailey so nice to see you again after so long girl!
↩️yourusername absolutely it’s been too long! let’s catch up for brunch
tomblyth you look angelic darling. wish i was there with you that night.
↩️yourusername wish you were there too babe! love you
tomholland2013 nice to see you mate xx
↩️ yourusername long time no see!
thehollywoodreporter
liked by person7264 and others
we report actor tom blyth @/tomblyth and actress y/n l/n @/yourusername being very cozy and intimate at last week’s annual hollywood gala dinner. the two have since quietly confirmed through their agencies that they have been in a committed relationship for over a year and ask for everyone to respect the privacy of their romance.
fans82 the joint net worth of this couple must be CRAZYY 💀💀
↩️username123 can they adopt me actually
user9711 so glad tom feels comfortable being so public with her when he used to be so scared showing anything from his private life
usernamehere I love them actually
random167 they deserve their happy ending
tomblyth
liked by mayahawke and others
let's go back.
rachelzegler looked like so much fun while I was recording all day 🙄
↩️ tomblyth next time for karaoke rach!
coreymylchreest best time with the lads
↩️ tomblyth time of our lives
horatio.james gotta do it again
yourusername from before my hair grew out
↩️ynfan111 your hair clips are so cute girlie!!
↩️ yourusername thank you 😅 tom put them up like that for me
yourusername
liked by markruffalo and others
going on a trip.
tomblyth my favourite ginger
liked by yourusername
↩️
jennaortega auburn locks with flaming hair>>>
↩️ yourusername love you my angel
troye my best girl
↩️ yourusername best boy>>
↩️ troye second to your man ofc 🙄
ashleyjliao the sweetest couple
↩️ yourusername thank you for introducing us to one another ❤️🫂
↩️ashleyjliao I better me maid of honour and godmom to your first child 😝
↩️ rachelzegler gotta fight me for that 😏
oliviarodrigo how does your hair grow that fast 😭😭
↩️ yourusername I don't know but it just does lol
tomblyth.fansite
liked by yourusername
croissainticles video posted today after the austin festival!
yourusername damn it’s like i’m not even here 😒
↩️tomblyth offered you one and you said you didn’t one until you took a bite out of mine
justins.croissants we glad he loved it! we'd like to sponsor you @/tomblyth for a sponsored post about our fresh croissants.
↩️ tomblyth this is the best time of my life actually
↩️tomblyth.fansite I'm crying I know he's so excited of like the free months of croissants or something
yourusername
don’t worry about me we got challengers at home 🤭🍽️
His Chosen Bride (Senator!Coriolanus Snow x Capitol Reader).
Chapter 1
masterlist
series masterlist
excerpt
summary: senator coriolanus snow seems on top of the world with everything in his life ahead of him except for one thing. the perfect bride. in his pursuit, your life changes forever.
word count: 1.7k
a/n: thank you everyone for your patience as I prepared this!! i hope you all love it and show your support through likes, reblogs and especially comments of what you thought! i love hearing what my readers and other people in the fandom think about my work, so any of your thoughts would be appreciated.
requests OPEN
Upon his return to the Capitol, his reputation restored, wealth acquired from the Plinths who so generously named him the heir to their grand fortune, his path to power was paved for him and he knew he just had to take the strides to get to the prize. The Presidency.
Coriolanus Snow, scion of one of the oldest and most elite of bloodlines of the great Panem families was home, his shameful exile to District 12 remembered by no one and purged from the registry.
Enrolled in university and an apprentice gamemaker, he was eventually promoted to become Senior Gamemaker upon Dr. Gaul’s semi-retirement and her preparation to hand off the reins to her protégé. Her brain child whom she molded from the vestiges of his sorrow and pain, of his loss in the districts and what hardened him into the man he was now.
When he graduated with honours from the political science department, it was only a few months before he was elected in a landslide to become the youngest Senator in Panem’s history, relying on his contributions to the recent games, memories of his late parents to those of a certain age to secure his win.
He would have considered re-election for another term before advisors of his and other cabinet members of the old, sickly President Ravinstill were close to swearing their support but all echoed the same thing that he lacked, they said. It was not his youth, he was wise for his age they said, but he was not married. If he had a wife, they said - they would be on board for his presidential election. And it seemed that election would be sooner than later, even before his first term finished.
Coriolanus needed to find a wife, not just of good breeding, but of the most impeccable lineage, from among the most illustrious hundred or so families of Capitol society. It was a given it would be purely political and strategic, someone whom he could not love and open his heart to after his previous tragedy pursuing such.
The perfect bride. The search for the perfect companion, the woman whom he would call his wife, his future first lady, and mother of his heirs. The ideal woman who would bridge the gap between his dreams to make them a reality.
He could not just choose the first possible candidate recommended to him or that caught his eye, Coriolanus had to devise a thorough, multi-step testing process to find his perfect wife, his bride.
A rigorous procedure would be curated in finding her. Interviews, tests, exams, genealogical inquiries, fitness tests, and practice scenarios will be prompted from eligible candidates, already filtering through those only from the old, grand families upon application.
Digging through his family library into the latest edition handbook of noble and elite families of the Capitol’s upper class, the creme de la creme, ignoring recently disgraced clans, ones full of scandal and controversy, with plenty of illegitimate children, and extinct ones rotting in poverty nearly like his own had he not reversed their fortune.
He scheduled a meeting with his advisors and closest allies on creating the program, the selection process, examinations and interrogation, and how to make the announcement for the families of these eligible girls to put their names in, with their consent or not.
Coriolanus Snow was born from the upper echelon of society, and only deserved the best woman with whom he would continue his lineage with and hail his presidency with. No one had dared, rather self-important he could argue if he cared, to make as many girls clamour for his attention rather than to propose to a woman of his choice.
Just as he was about to put the book down and shut it closed, a name caught his attention. Yours. Your lineage, accomplishments, your etiquette were second to none, and he had to have you. At all costs. He would burn heaven and hell, but the question remains - would he win you over? Or will he have to force your hand no matter what?
Besides, he requires others to choose from, even if you are the most qualified. It would not do well for your ego to have the satisfaction you were chosen for. He wants you to want it, to beg for it, claim it and aspire to be one worthy to be by his side, motivated by the competition who would slit your throat and ruin your reputation for it.
And yet a lingering thought crept up his mind. He had brought life back into the Hunger Games, that was on its dying breath before his arrival, why not another? Everything is a game if you try hard enough.
…
A brightly lit room surrounded you as you grabbed a few more pieces of dandelions and baby’s breath bunches for your bouquet, in your floral arrangement lessons for the week. Under the watchful eye of your teacher, a premiere florist who is hired by the Capitol’s elite for the most fashionable and well-sought events every season.
Hailing from one of the oldest families among the Capitol’s blue bloods, your family may not be the wealthiest but definitely prosperous to be among them, yet your lineage is prominent even before Panem’s founding, the most ancient of them all.
In your family home’s perfectly manicured garden, you immerse yourself in the arrangement, something that would impress your teacher yet also something you would find pleasant in a vase by your study. No way would someone of your heritage be found associating with anything subpar.
After your studies at the Academy, your lessons and tutoring would never end, usually something different for each day. Piano, ballet, etiquette, floristry, household management, painting and so on.
As you gathered a crimson bow around the branches of your bouquet, you could hear murmurs among the uniformly dressed maids and servants around the stately home, as your mother jaunted towards you in her glossy designer heels.
“Yes, mother?” You greeted politely, observing the unreadable expression on your mother’s face.
She approached you carefully, gently taking your hands in her own, soft and having never experienced hardship.
“A great honour has been bestowed on you, daughter. A promising Senator has taken a liking to you, and wants you to be considered for his future bride.” Your mother smiles in celebration and pride, and your brows furrow in consternation.
“A Senator as old as father? A man old enough to be my grandfather-”
“Hush, darling. He is young, from a proper family of the elite family unlike those Plinths, new money scum. Senator Coriolanus Snow, the son of late General Crassus Snow and his wife Victoria Snow. He is only twenty four, I think you would like him.” She brushes your hair behind your ears, but you turn away from her, pushing her hands away.
“Twenty four, when I am eighteen?”
Your mother shrugs. “It is the way of the world I suppose. I was your age when I met your father. Eighteen and he was twenty one, a match fit for the sort like us.”
“You mentioned I was being considered but no outright proposal or courting has begun. What do you mean?”
She unveiled a large envelope she was holding behind her back, taking it out for you before a gold hued canvas invitation was unveiled.
Dear Y/N L/N and family,
I hope this letter finds you well. As I have progressed through my career as a gamemaker and politician, it has been too long since I have navigated through life without a lifelong companion and wife.
You are a woman of unblemished character, accomplished in many ways, intelligent, well-bred and would fit the bill of what a man like me seeks in a future partner.
There is no guarantee that you must receive this invitation and accept, but rather that your name will be included in a pool of candidates to be considered. I hope that you and your family would view this as a position of honour, and even if you shall not be chosen, you will be compensated for your time and this shall only raise your standing in our society.
Please reply to the number and address attached below with your response, and I would be beholden and pleased to hear if you would put your name forward to possibly become my future First Lady.
Sincerely,
Senator Coriolanus Snow
You could not believe it, the humiliation of not being asked directly for one’s hand in marriage but having to compete with other ladies of society and grovel for his attention.
“Are you and papa seriously making me do this? The Hunger Games to be someone’s wife and heir maker?!”
Your mother sighs, shaking her head as she crosses her arms. “You do not understand, child. I have heard of other elite families whose daughters, sisters, nieces such as the Heavensbees, the Cardews, Dovecotes, among a few have been invited and all have accepted. No one would even think to refuse a Snow!”
“But it is not guaranteed. How would I not be offended if he did not make a guaranteed offer but wants me to participate like I am in a beauty pageant. I have to close off even entertaining other suitors and I am not even assured that I will not be left dry and humiliated if I was not chosen.”
“Your grandmother was Miss Panem many years ago before the war and those rebels ruined everything, I am sure he will choose you. Even if he did not, any other unmarried peer of yours would scoop you up in no time, that if Snow perceived you as someone potential, they are from the cream of the crop.”
You sighed, putting down your shearing tools and your bunches of daisies and baby’s breath. You never liked roses.
“You have always aimed for the stars, daughter. Would you pass on an opportunity like this or be forgotten to the tombs of time?” Your mother suggests, walking over to you with a guiding hand on your shoulder. “Choose wisely if you want to make something of yourself, to not pass on opportunities like this.
Golden letter in hand, you stared intensely at the dark line above your name, signifying whether you would submit your name or not. With a bold stroke of your ink pen, you sign your fate and future away. I agree to participate.
Let the games begin.
His Chosen Bride Taglist:
(if your name is bolded, I put in your user but it didn't show up when prompted so I'm not sure if you got notified!) Please let me know if you'd like to be added and reminded every time I update.
As I release more work, I wanted to stay organized with tag lists to keep in touch with my readers and keep communicating with everyone.
Feel free to interact with this post by commenting, liking and reblogging or submit on my Google Form to be added to my tag lists, and which of my work you'd like to be updated.
TAGLIST FORM HERE
I write for:
House of the Dragon
-Jacaerys Velaryon
-Lucerys Velaryon
-Daemon Targaryen
-Rhaenyra Targaryen
-Baela Targaryen
-Rhaena Targaryen
-Addam of Hull
and more! Depending on the request, I can be open to writing for other characters
The Hunger Games
-Coriolanus Snow
Again, my ask box is OPEN for these characters so please send more requests as I love fulfilling them.
Can you write something about Jacaerys velaryon x targaryen wife reader
Where she gives birth to a baby that looks like jace and it bothered alicent but they don't care? :3
Saving Face (Jacaerys Velaryon x Targtower!Reader)
(a/n): i’m sorry this request took over a year but my, what a great idea! i hope you like it
word count: 3.0k
summary: with what was supposed to be a happy moment in the new chapter of your family with jacaerys, only wounds linger when your mother is unhappy with your child's appearance.
warnings: slight angst, family tensions, complicated family relationships, implied incest (the targaryen way), not alicent hightower friendly
request status: OPEN
The joy of his newborn child is nearly eclipsed by the fear that his beloved would be called to face the same humiliation his mother endured upon his birth.
Even in distress, his beautiful wife still looked otherworldly silver hair spun in gold, and with her pale lavender eyes, he would not have that ginger sucker of joy to rob him from this life changing celebration. His relief that his beloved survived the precarious birth, worried about her lithe frame and the prostration it weighed on her during the pregnancy.
His little boy, his beloved son, a fragment of the other half of soul and his own. He is perfect, with his ten little toes and fingers, and he is all his.
Jacaerys is thankful his mother was in the birthing room with him and his wife, breaking protocol (as always) to be with the mother as she went into labour. Without her, he thinks he would’ve been hysterical and lost his mind without her guiding hand and comforting presence in seeing Y/N in distress.
“Where is my mother?” Y/N cradles the babe to her breast, as he suckled in his mother’s warmth and he feels his heart drop to his stomach as her face contorted in disappointment.
The child yearned for nourishment, and the midwives guided the young mother so she could feed the child with her milk.
The Dowager Queen remained unyielding even as her step-daughter arose as Queen, and she was still given some privileges even with her dispute with his mother. The marriage of Jacaerys and Y/N, her youngest daughter, was made as a desperate attempt to patch the two sides together and make peace as his mother sat on the Iron Throne.
Her mother attended the wedding, wearing a dark muted forest green that still appeared obsidian in certain angles, but the flame patterns could not be missed on her gown.
A mockery indeed as if she did not accept his mother’s ascendance to the throne and wanted her small rebellions in forms of cloth, he would not grant her the satisfaction of his reaction, for the sake of the realm and his wife, her daughter. It would be too scandalous to do so.
When his beloved was called abed, all pretense of dignity and calm collapsed underneath him. Whatever confident front he had broke apart as fear consumed him, sweat dripping from his forehead, hands shaking, heart beating wildly as he realized his wife was to cross the barrier between life and death to birth their child.
Seeing Y/N’s clean white robes stained the bed in scarlet as she quickens and the pain increases as the babe nears reminds him of the chills whenever he walks the path from the princess’ chambers to the queen’s, the same path forged in blood when his mother then Princess Rhaenyra, the crown princess and heir to the Throne, had to face the humiliation called upon by her stepmother, now Queen Dowager Alicent.
His blood boils when he sees the auburn former queen walk that path meekly nowadays on her way to see her daughter, as if it was all an act when she had pulled rank and caused so much suffering to his beloved mother. Jacaerys fears his wife, now the Princess of Dragonstone will have to walk those same halls, perform the same walk of shame and mummery with all the courtiers of the Keep to bear witness.
There is no possibility he will allow her to endure the same, he would bring fire and blood to all of Westeros shall she have to face that, yet it brings him relief when he reminds himself that woman is no longer Queen but his mother is, Queen of her own right and first of her name, and yet all the same, that woman is also his mother-in-law, mother to his darling. And grandmother to the child that shares his blood.
Jacaerys never left the side of his wife even when her birth continued onto the hour of the wolf, his hands intertwined with her own, assuring kisses on her temple and cheek and encouraging her when she would cry she wanted to relent. Across from him stood his mother, whose locks resembled her half sister and his wife, an experienced mother who has felt such joy and such sorrow too, with a maternal comfort gained with experience.
He would not allow a woman filled with hate to the brim in her heart to rob him of the joys of fatherhood and the relief of his wife safe and sound after such birth to their babe. Jace felt relief like no other when he began to see the dark haired head of the child crowning, and the guttural, final scream she exerted as the child exited her womb.
Jacaerys comforted and whispered assurances of gratitude and encouragement to his lady wife, that she be reminded how grateful he was of her efforts to grow their family, of her devotion and love for him, and fulfilling her duty with nothing but grace, peppering kisses all over her flushed face.
As he caressed the fine hair of his child much like own while he fed from his mother’s breast, his elated expression dropped as if in a chilling reminder when she asked for her mother. As despicable as that woman was, he could not deny her wishes if it brought her reprieve. Jace smiled and promised her that she would be coming and has been informed of the birth of her new grandchild.
When Y/N was beyond earshot, he approached the young midwife with a hardened gait, grinding through his teeth. “If the Dowager Queen wishes to see the prince, she will make her way here herself. She can walk, can she not?!"
While his wife was preoccupied and in isolation during the last few months of the pregnancy, Jace had made efforts to convince his mother to move the Lady Alicent to the second floor below the palace where the current royal family lived. “To remind her of what she’s done to us and may feel the pain we have endured.” He told Queen Rhaenyra, who was hesitant but accepted afterwards.
Jacaerys marched his way outside the ornate doors where his wife and their babe rested, raising his chin and standing with his chest puffed out, a cold indifferent expression, back straightened and fists clenched white as his wife’s mother made her way up the stairs with difficulty.
In the years since her queenship, the then young queen had begun to develop striking pain all over her body, especially down her spine and legs no matter what the maesters or foreign healers would advise. Jacaerys thought it was fitting for when he would make his mother walk up with him and his newborn siblings, bleeding across the hallways and staircases due to the green queen’s attempt to humiliate them.
Perhaps he is his mother’s son, as diplomatic, gracious, intelligent and cunning as he may be, grudges linger.
He could hear a pin drop as the auburn haired woman nearly stumbled down the final stairs and tripped over her gown, with a few septas rushing over to assist her but he showed no commiseration.
The doors swung open as Alicent limped towards her daughter’s bedside, slightly softening in consolation her daughter was safe in childbirth and the child was kicking like a goat.
“Praise the Mother, my girl.” She brushed her blood-smeared fingers over her silver hair shakily, whispering. He did not miss the glimpse of disappointment when she noticed the dark brown hair of the child, even when the boy had her pale lavender eyes.
Alicent cleared her throat, avoiding the gaze of those around her. “I see that the prince strongly resembles his father.”
Jacaerys’ eyes narrowed in suspicion, instinctively reaching towards the pommel of his Valyrian steel sword. “Is that supposed to be a problem, Dowager?” He stomped forward, hovering above his wife and child.
“Not at all, my prince. He is a handsome boy-”
Queen Rhaenyra noticed the tension beginning to develop and interrupted with a smile. “She means no ill, Jacaerys. Merely an observation.”
“An observation?! She wished to have us named as bastards to replace you as heir with one of her spawns and humiliate you.” He raised his voice, accusatory at his mother’s former adversary, and he could feel Lucerys next to him, pulling him away to calm him.
His wife Y/N, exhausted and delirious from the birth, began to grow pale and overwhelmed from the commotion around her, just as her babe broke out in tears and wailed. The Queen ordered everyone but Jacaerys to exit the room and give the family their space. The door shut with a thunderous thud.
…
Hours later, the midwives finished cleaning up the afterbirth, bathed and cleaned the lady and the child before they both fell asleep in new linen sheets and fed.
Jacaerys never left his young family’s side, despondent he had lost his cool, distressing his family during a vulnerable moment, turning what should have been a celebration into an altercation.
He cringed as he could only imagine what the murmurs and whispers about his behaviour and the events that followed with his wife’s mother would share about him. He had brought this upon himself and his family.
AS Y/N began waking from her first rest since the labours, he turned to her as soon as he could hear her rise from her sheets, reaching for her hands in his.
“I have failed you, wife. I should have protected you but I have only raised in anger over old wounds and created altercations when I should have.” Jacaerys felt his tears brim, cheeks red with ignominy and shame.
Her eyes fluttered awake, still weary from the long delivery but visibly more rested already. She shook her head in understanding with an enervated sigh.
“I understand your relationship with my mother has been tense, for what she had done to Her Grace and your family. But I can assure her she has changed, if she is not with me, she is on the knees at the Sept begging for forgiveness and giving alms-”
“She looked at our son the same way she used to look at me and my brothers as children, when she would use her tongue to call us bastards! I fear she will do the same to you and the boy. What good will alms do if she still wishes to see me and our son six feet under ground for the colour of our hair!?” Jacaerys exclaimed, lips quivering in fear as he felt tears brim in his eyes.
Y/N brought their son closer to her arms, only comforted by the sight of her child and her beloved.
“I will handle her, trust me. She thinks I do not pay attention to these things, but I do.” She reaches her free hand to his, unmoving to not wake the babe and squeezes his larger palms into her own.
Jacaerys sniffles, wiping his tears with his sleeve. “I do not wish to drive you apart from your mother, my love. I only worry about you and our family’s safety, and the throne. That you and our son may not suffer on my behalf.”
Their son had just begun to fall asleep in her arms, and she began bouncing him instinctively, quickly gaining the ropes of what it took to be a good mother. Jacaerys knew she would be nothing like her own mother, eagerly learning from his mother Queen Rhaenyra, speaking with other royal and noble mothers and even listening to wet nurses and nannies on how to rear children best.
“Are you sure you can handle this conversation? Would you like me outside or in the room with you?” He asks with uncertainty, not entirely confident with his wife even with her own mother.
The wife of the heir to the Iron Throne and Princess of Dragonstone nods fiercely. “You forget I am a dragon too. We do not bow to these snakes that suck from their prey.”
…
In the overmorrow on the first day of spring, Y/N had just put her son in his cradle, handcrafted in limestone and marble with seahorses and dragons, lined with sheets of silk with pearls and aquamarines, befitting the future King, and the scion of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon.
She hummed as she watched him sleep, having gone through feeding him herself to the surprise of the wet nurses she had followed through, unlike most royalty. She swore she would leave nursing and care to others if she had no other choice.
Underneath sat the hearth of the magenta and mauve swirled dragon egg surrounded by pieces of coal, emitting whirls of smoke that signified the life alive in those eggs. The egg was special as it was the first from her young ride, a nervous flighty thing who only managed to hatch when she found out she was expecting herself, rarely only having one dragon when most on Dragonstone laid many.
As she hums old Valyrian nursery hymns from the crypts of ancient Valyrian text retrieved from the tombs of the Keep’s libraries, she recognizes the steps of her mother without a glimpse.
In her jade hued robes, Lady Alicent was quaint yet undaunted to remind the court of her former standing as once the queen who ruled these halls. A black veil hid part of her auburn hair that turned to flames in certain lighting.
Her mother grimaces with a smile that does not reach her eyes, but relief is painted all over her being. “You are well, daughter? I presume so is the babe.”
Y/N curtly interrupts her. “The babe is your grandson, my child when I am your flesh and blood, mother. Most importantly, he is the future heir to the throne, second in line to my husband.”
Alicent frantically fidgets with her fingers, tugging at her old emerald rings in consternation.
“Of course, yes. His name, Aemon, is fitting for a future monarch.” She could hear the strain in her mother’s words, laced with lies. All her life she had learned those sealed with malice and deceit.
“You forget yourself, mother. My husband and my children are of the blood of the dragon, as do I. You do not understand the ways of the dragon, in your jealousy of wanting to unseat my sister and put Aegon on the throne. Your attempts to disgrace and dispossess my future husband and his brothers has brought the Stranger hanging over mine and my own son’s head!” Y/N chides in betrayal, voice tinged with disbelief her mother would do such a thing.
“Y/N-”
“I could not believe you, mother, that you still harbour such ill will after many years. My marriage with Jacaerys should have buried whatever disagreements you may have had with Queen Rhaenyra, but you value imbuing hate and division on this house more than choosing the peace and stability of this kingdom!”
“Your husband and your son are unbecoming of what Targaryen princes are supposed to look like-” The Dowager attempted to reason, but was impeded as her daughter held an imposing hand towards her.
“Unbecoming? Have you not glimpsed into a mirror? You are nothing of what a Targaryen queen should be, a mere second son’s daughter who brought nothing of value to the throne, and only sought discord to advance her family. Who replaced the Targaryen tapestries with ones of the Seven in hopes of bringing your radicalism to the rest of the kingdom!”
Guards barge in the doors of the babe’s nursery, their armour and swords clattering loudly in the quiet hall.
“What is the meaning of this?”
Y/N coldly turns away from her mother, even as she frowned the same way she would. “By order of the Princess of Dragonstone with the seal of approval of the Prince of Dragonstone and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,
I order your arrest for treason, and insubordination not only for your past grievances but your efforts to call my son a bastard. You will be stripped of your privileges of Queen Dowager, and turned into a septa who will serve the Seven for all her days.”
The former queen is astonished, struggling among the grips of the soldiers who surround her. “Daughter, you are mistaken, please do not do this to me. For all I have sacrificed for this realm and for your father, you must understand why I am the way I am.” She pleaded on her knees, hands clasped as she cried for mercy.
“No, you have served your ambitions and my late grandsire’s treacherous longing for power and the throne, that you would put the Hightower banners and replace Targaryen customs with the Seven and southern ways, that you would tear the kingdom apart for it. I have given you too many chances, forgiving you and turning the cheek in hopes you have accepted it and at least been happy for me, but I am a fool. I am not as forgiving as my father was to your digressions!”
Y/N paced slowly around her mother, sorrow on her face, but no regret or forgiveness.
“You are lucky I will not be putting you in a cell, because for better or for worse, you are still the mother who birthed me. But you would understand, there is nothing a mother would do to grant protection to her children.”
The princess dazed into the window, grasping onto the rails as she heard her mother being dragged out the halls and stripped of her royal ordinances. She could feel herself biting into her nails nervously after years of no longer doing so.
Jacaerys sauntered carefully, approaching his wife with comfort, rubbing her shoulders and bringing her into his arms, looking down at their son as he slept.
“Was I not too cruel, Jace?” She whimpered, weeping into his arms as she was devastated at whether treating her own kin in such a way was a fatal mistake.
He rests his chin on the top of her head before pressing kisses on her temple. “I understand why this troubles you, wife. As abominable and misguided she was, you still are her blood, her daughter.”
She glimpsed at her son, cooing at him as he quietly sleeps. “As a mother, I want to be nothing like her. My son will never be safe while she is around.”
Hello, how can i deal with the 3d when i am a college student manifesting a new dream life where i am not college student.. like i am manifesting a completely new life for myself and it is weird when i have to deal with shitty courses that i absolutely loathe. Everyday i have to wake up and think about uni, homework, exams.. which i hate so much and led me many times to be extremely desperate and miserable trying to manifest my dream life.
another thing, i understand that i have my desires right now in my imagination and that time does not matter; yet i find myself hating the idea that i do not know when my desires will be reflected into the 3d. I remember reading a neville’s quote that goes like this:
"If you reach the point of relief, your bread has been cast upon the water to return, perhaps in the matter of an hour. I have had the phone ring – minutes after I have imagined it – to hear confirmation that it has happened. Sometimes it has taken days, weeks, or months; but I do not repeat the action once I have done it and felt the feeling of relief, for I know there is nothing more I need to do." - Neville
and i was like.. jesus fucking christ, months? I cant wait for months for it be reflected. Like i just cannot. Did you ever have this fear whenever you read neville talking about time?
i do not know if i articulated my ask well, but i hope i get a satisfying response. Thank you so much aphrodite
do what you have to do in the 3d. don't be reckless(like me). but FULFILL your desire in imagination and IDENTIFY yourself with the inner you. when you persist in this, your feeling(not emotion!) will completely change and you having to go to school and do homework won't bother you. the only reason who hate your current circumstances is that you're in that state. once you change your state, your reaction to your 3d will change, and the way you view your current 3d will change. because your states dictate everything.
it doesn't take long to see results in the 3d. the shortest one that took me that i manifested that i consider quite big was overnight. like it really doesn't take long and almost scary how fast the 3d can change when you can really really focus on changing your inner self. neville didn't mean it'll take months. what he meant is he truly doesn't care if it takes a day or a week or a month. all that mattered to him was changing his state. plus, i believe he was referring to desires he considered less "significant"? like neville would always imagine for other people and he did that for multiple people so it was always something like someone would come to neville for help with their problems and neville would imagine them doing well in their life and then just kind of forget about them cause neville has his own life and then a few months later he would hear from them that they're doing great in their life or something like that. that's what he meant by it may take months. i promise it doesn't take months😭don't worry about it, you have my word. just focus on being in your desired state. focus within. your goal isn't to see a change on the outside but to see a change within.
for neville's own desires, it never took him long. like it took him overnight to get out of Barbados, took 9 days to get out of the army, took 2-3 days to get money back from his old friend, and took 1 week to get a divorce.
