Is My Oven On?

post-grad ⭐️ i write when i can

[cdragons]

Masterlist/Welcome Post

Hello To All! I am very slow updater, but I write for or am willing/open to write for characters for characters of fandoms listed below.

If you have a request, please keep in mind that I am a very slow writer and may not want to accept it or want to write it out. I will have a list of topics/characters I will not write for at a later date. I also will be prioritizing my current works before any requests or asks.

Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon Universe

Like a Wave She Broke, But Like the Sea She Persevered

Stannis x Yi Ti! Second Wife w/ eventual Robb Stark x OC (maybe)

House Stark & Spicy Food

Imagine Being Luwin's Apprentice & Childhood Friends with Robb, Jon, and Theon

More Robb, Jon, and Theon with Luwin's Apprentice Headcanons

MCU Eternals

Our Love is Eternal

Persephone!Eternal Reader & Hecate!Eternal Reader

HOTD

Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Fic

Warmth & Stories - Aemond Targaryen x Wildling!Reader

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

Feathers & Threads Soaked In Red

Saltburn 2023

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You

Haikyuu!!

eagles and falconers

[cdragons]

My beloved mutie what are your pronouns

she/her, my winged beauty 😘🌹

[st4ssealdente]

You Pervert ♡

Valarr Targaryen x fem!Reader

Modern!AU [University], in which reader teases starved Student Body President Valarr as he gives a speech, and he makes sure she finishes what she started.

minors dni.

Warnings/tags: Non-Con spanking, Brat play (ig), Consensual fingering, Praise kink, Teasing, Good girl among other pet-names, Finger sucking, Light choking, Light overstimulation, Pleasured to senselessness, Kinda fear of getting caught/semi-public sex, Reader never learns, Softdom Valarr; who is gentle with words and small touches but not when it comes to reader’s c*nt.

Fuck… I’m hard.

It was 6:30 PM, and the university students—at least those who were bored enough to be present—had gathered in the auditorium for the annual talent show.

Student body president Valarr had been preparing all week for the speech he was expected to give—he could recite it backwards if he so wanted. But glancing down at the bulge in his trousers, he realised the one part of the evening he could never have prepared for.

You.

You and Valarr had been in the same class since the beginning of uni. Though you might’ve known each other for ”a long time”, it did not dim the fact that he found you insufferable.

In truth, he couldn’t stand you.

He knew you to be the trouble-making, spoiled upper-class sort of girl. You’d question authority, act generally improperly, and speak rudely to other students whom you deemed as lesser than you—that including Valarr. And you were so ungodly annoying that even his patience failed not to be taxed by your behaviour.

Every time he’d gone out of his way to lecture you, you would dismiss him almost as easily as you would a door-to-door salesman.

Furthermore, your bad behaviour seemed only to worsen as he made his discontentment known—and he found himself wondering if the only way to shut you up was to give that cunt of yours a firm pounding…

During the last trimester, Valarr’s feelings of lust had begun to intensify beyond his control. The thought of putting you in your place had entered his mind more often than he would’ve liked to admit. To the point, it should’ve been classified as a fantasy, not just ”a thought”.

The way you swayed your hips as you strutted the halls, and the way you bent down in the middle of class seminars, just to gaze back playfully at him, had had him scurrying out of the lecture hall to take care of his hard-on on more than one occasion.

It drove him insane.

But it was not like his suffering had gone unnoticed.

You’d felt the looks and the glances across the room like a spotlight, rewarding him by slightly arching your back and relishing the way his hand shamefully travelled under the table and between his legs. 

What a perv, you often thought to yourself—and indeed, perverted was what he felt like.

Though you were surprised at first, you had now gotten so used to his horniness that you had made it into a sort of game. Suddenly, it was all rather exciting.

As you moved toward the auditorium—your miniskirt lifting timidly with every step—you involuntarily began to imagine just how pathetic Valarr’s reaction would be. Sometimes you felt yourself warming up at the thought of him one day giving in, and finally burying his twitchy cock inside of you. You wondered if this was that day, if this was the last straw. You had, after all, prepared a little treat. Just to test how far you could egg him on.

With his neck flushed, Valarr tried his best to keep his eyes to himself. But to no avail. Like a puppy to a sweet treat, his mouth watered as you sat next to him, chair disappearing beneath your thighs. His senses fogged with the sweet tang of your raspberry perfume.

If he could just let your chair do the speech and take its place instead...

His mind wandered, dreaming up the image of you sitting on his face. He thought of how sweetly he would make you moan while he drowned blissfully in your juices. ‘Valarr! Valarr!’ you would mewl.

He closed his eyes and allowed them to roll back at the thought, exhaling deeply.

“Valarr!” the professor called for him, frustrated at the Student rep for uncharacteristically missing his cue, and Valarr’s daydream was brought to an unsatisfying end. He stood hurriedly, neck still flushed pink, careful to not look your way, nor to let his cue cards lose their place in front of the bulge in his trousers.

He was hard, and he was thanking every higher power that there was a podium on stage for him to hide behind.

The speech went as smoothly as it could’ve gone, except for the times his eyes landed on you—your piercing gaze forcing him to halt his rhetoric for a moment. You were seated right in front of him, smiling so sweetly, and it was beginning to piss him off. 

She’s such a brat, he thought, careful not to speak it out loud.

He rolled up his sleeves in frustration, standing just near enough for you to see the pretty veins on his toned arms. Your growing wetness clung to your chair—it was your turn to stare now.

Valarr’s mismatched eyes were glued to the back of the auditorium, the maroon and dark oak walls the only thing in his view. He was actively ignoring you, and you had to applaud him for his persistence.

However, you were determined to win this one-sided horn-off, as you always did. You brought your hand to your shoulder, caressing it under your blouse to reveal your soft skin. The young man on stage was drawn to your sudden movement.

Got you.

Slowly, you opened your legs, carefully caressing your upper thigh so that your skirt lifted just enough for Valarr to glimpse your unclothed cunt; the other students around you, oblivious to your lewd invitation. He caught his breath, stumbling over his words, and you let out a soft giggle.

Success.

The Student Council president left the stage, ever as proper, though flushed a bright red. He took his seat next to you once again.

He was on edge and annoyed, and you accepted it as a challenge.

You placed your hand on his thigh and cooed, “Good job, Valarr.”

He gave you a firm look.

“Thank you,” he muttered deeply, not pulling his gaze from you.

Something about his expression made your body tingle. His pretty puppy eyes were now dark and unamused; maybe you had gone too far this time.

The lights went out, and almost on cue, Valarr stood, hooking his grip around your waist, before stealthily leading you out of the auditorium.

“Now, for the first performer, Aerion from class BO-TM7, with his… Dragon… dance…?” The voice on stage faded out as Valarr and you neared the exit.

The door shut, and you could feel his warmth behind you. The scent of him, a musk of deep honey, caging you.

“Is everything all right?” You asked innocently, pressing your ass against his groin.

Your own arousal at teasing the poor, young man was evident, the feeling sending a wave of heat through your body.

He laughed in disbelief, taking a second to look around you before whispering breathlessly into your hair, “What the fuck are you doing?”

”Gasp! Cursing?!” You turned to face him, putting on your most elaborately condescending tone, ”Careful now, Mr Perfect. That foul mouth of yours might cost you your beloved presidency.”

You pressed your bosom against him, attempting to agitate him further. But as you reached your hand to boop his nose, you were stopped by Valarr, who grabbed your wrist.

Oop. That was unexpected.

You attempted to lower your hand back down, but his grip was unyielding.

”I’m done with this game,” his deep voice vibrated against your chest, still pressed snuggly to him. You felt your face warm as his dark gaze settled over you. He was not happy.

”L-let go of me, you perv,” meagrely, you pulled your hand once more; you didn’t really want him to let go.

He raised his eyebrows at the word. Prev.

That was it, he'd had enough.

In one swift move, he lifted you over his shoulder, walking towards the nearest lecture hall.

You yelped, your hands frantically trying to cover your bare bottom, while simultaneously holding yourself up by his dress shirt.

”Are you out of your mind?!” you squealed.

Valarr lifted his hand and spanked your ass, his palm leaving a red glow on the delicate skin.

Your breath hitched. Did he just?!

”Put me down right now, you perver—”

Slap. He did it again.

Roughly, he rubbed on the red mark left behind, as if he was charging up.

You drummed on his back, demanding he put you down. But he didn’t. He simply gave your naked cheek another smack and walked on.

By the fifth time, your anger had turned into genuine bewilderment, and your loud protests were now incoherent, soft mumbles.

He glanced at your ass, admiring how your body trembled at the contact before going still again—he was delighted in his work.

You, however, were embarrassed. If someone were to walk by, they would see, not only your bare backside, but your folds dripping with arousal.

”You cannot—” slap.

You mewled, shifting sheepishly on his shoulder, trying to conceal how undeniably turned on you were.

He opened a door and closed it behind him. The room was dark, a weak sheen from a broken light at the back of the lecture hall, the only thing aiding your vision.

Valarr placed you on the professor’s desk and rested his weight on it, his hands on either side of your hips. His head was slumped forward.

You attempted to show your disapproval of the situation, but you only managed to utter a breathless, needy whisper of his name, ”Valarr—”

For fuck’s sake.

Valarr lifted his head lazily, cutting you off, ”Does it come naturally to you or do you take deliberate care to make yourself difficult?”

He stared at you with assertive arousal. Though he was boring, you had to admit, Valarr was quite handsome. Especially now, when he was angry and commanding—yet still with a flustered blush adorning his cheeks. From the way your face heated, you knew you were most likely flushed red too.

”What do you think?” You tried your best to sound unbothered.

”What do I think?” his nose flared as his gaze shifted to your lips. ”I think—” he closed in slowly, allowing his face to rest against yours, though not yet letting your lips meet, ”—you need some discipline… and some respect.”

You breathed into him, raising your chin, desperate for him to kiss you.

He shook his head slowly in response, ”I can’t believe you.”

He held your face, pulling you to him in a hungry kiss. The rough act, made with his soft lips, shot a drowning pleasure through your body, and you tried to force the blissful noises bubbling in your throat to stay put. You began to tug at his dress shirt, to take it off, to pull him closer, anything. You just wanted more of him.

”No, no. You’re not getting that tonight,” He said, breaking the kiss, looking down at you through hooded eyelids.

His palms caressed your sides, sneaking their way under your skirt, where you needed him most.

You fussed, whining in anticipation.

”Do you want me to touch you here?” His fingers grazed against the soft skin of your lower belly.

The smug look on his face made your insides boil, equal amounts of both disdain and arousal mingling within you.

You nodded, earning a satisfied hum from his lips.

Slowly, he leaned in, burrowing his face in the side of your hair once more.

”No,” he said plainly, ”not until you’ve apologised.”

He backed away from you and seated himself on the professor's chair, leisurely spreading his legs.

The air before you grew cold in his absence. You turned to him. His head was tilted as he gazed at you, left all alone and befuddled on the table.

Slowly, he patted his lap, a lewd invitation of his own.

Another wave of heat surged through you; this was not at all what you had expected. You pushed yourself up from the table, focusing on keeping your steps steady. Any hesitation would have had you drooping weakly to the floor, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

So you didn’t hesitate.

You lifted yourself casually to straddle him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The moment you sat, however, your hips unconsciously jutted against his, and you prayed it had gone unnoticed; he did not need any more reason to belittle you.

Valarr caressed your ass, seemingly staring up at you with admiration. It made you uneasy. But he kept fondling the sensitive skin, and it felt so good.

Soon, your sighs became heavier. You grabbed a handful of his dark chestnut hair, as he squeezed and pushed you down onto his clothed cock. Its hardness jabbed into your thigh, as the friction of his trousers dragged cruelly along your clit, your wet arousal drenching the fabric.

You dropped your head, nuzzling it into his neck.

”No,” he whispered suddenly. ”I want you over my leg.”

He deepened himself into the chair and rested his arms on its top rail, refusing to touch you. For a moment, you stared at him, mostly annoyed that he had stopped grinding into you.

You spoke sharply, ”I am over your legs.”

An impatient hum left Valarr’s lips. He lifted you with ease, guiding you into his preferred position.

Oh.

You lie, chest across his thigh and backside between his legs.

While positioning you, his hand stayed pressed to your bare ass, only leaving it for a moment to flick your skirt up over your back, revealing all of you to him. The other, now held your jaw, turning you to have the tips of your noses touch.

Your back arched as he squeezed your backside again, harder than before.

”Apologise,” he growled.

The sharp sting of his palm against your flesh—recently made familiar to you—found your blushing bum yet again.

You mewled, only to force a furrow to your brows, as if the act was able conceal the one that came before it.

”For what—” another slap.

You gripped the fabric over his thighs.

The sensations were too intense. Even as your skin ached, you found yourself pressing yourself onto his offending hand, desperately wanting his touch.

”You know well—”

”I don’t,” you cut.

Slap.

You mewled again.

The smacks of skin to skin followed each of his sentences, acting as punctuation. Between your punishments, his fingers teased your folds, lapping up and down so faintly it was maddening.

”You are a clever girl,” he spoke into your lips as his fingers barely grazed your clit, taunting the sensitive bud, ”do not pretend otherwise.”

You moaned reluctantly.

”Now, let me hear you apologise, sweetheart.” Slap.

Your brows could only furrow in pleasure now.

He caressed your ass and lowered his head to place innocent pecks onto it, as if your current circumstance wasn't the most erotic you'd ever found yourself in.

”So pretty.” He whispered to himself.

You squirmed between his legs, but his toned arms held you in place.

”You’re not going anywhere—” Slap. ”—Be a good girl now—” Another one. ”—And apologise.” A third.

A huffed sigh left your lips. How did you even get here?

”I’m sorry.” Your voice was cold and stubborn, your embarrassment evident.

That tone of yours, was not to Valarr’s liking.

”You can do better than that.” Slap.

Valarr kissed your lips and allowed his fingers to press ever so gently against your clit. He was rewarding you for your apology; even though it was lacklustre.

Your hips rutted backwards from the sudden stimulation, and Valarr chuckled softly.

”Please, Valarr,” you whispered, struggling to beg for more in the least begging way possible.

”No, no. Not please,” he scoffed. ”Apologise properly… and I might touch you they way you want me to.”

”I’m sorry!” you did sound desperate now.

”For…?” He waited for you to finish the sentence.

”For being rude... and disrespectful…” your words strained in your throat. You haven’t had to apologise like this since you were a child.

”And...?”

”And!?” the sharp edge seethed back into your voice.

Slap.

He held your face and rubbed gentle circles along your sweet spot, ”Not that tone again.”

You bit your lip, as you fussed desperately over his thigh, your hips shifting back to add more pressure to his touch. Yet, each effort was only met by his pulling away from your wetness.

He continued, voice soft, ”Apologise for what you did in there.” His head tilted toward the auditorium.

”I’m sorry… for teasing you,” you said spuriously, rolling your eyes slightly.

"Are you?"

"Mm, no... not really," you spat, pleased with yourself.

Another slap.

You yelped at the strike, which, frustratingly, sounded more like a whimper than anything, "You're such a perv!"

Valarr let out a cold hum as his palm came down once more; by now, you’d lost count of how many times he’d done it. This time, the impact was harsher, sending a sharp throb through your already sensitive skin.

He didn’t stop—each strike followed the last in a merciless rhythm, echoing through the hall.

You whined, grabbing his upper thigh to steady yourself.

God, you just wanted him to fuck you.

"Are you sorry now?"

"Mm—Yes! I'm sorry, truly!" It was impossible to not sound absolutely pitiful uttering those words. ”It won’t happen again!”

Valarr hummed, satisfied enough with your answer.

Slowly, he pushed a finger inside of you.

You made a small lurch before lowering into a purr; the friction along your walls was so delicious.

"Is this okay?"

Your arms had given out, and you mumbled sweetly against his thigh, "Please, don't stop."

With a steady hand, he pumped into your warmth, at the same time, resting his other beneath your face as he placed soft kisses against your cheek. Already, you could feel your lower belly tensing, but you could not cum so easily; you would not hear the end of it if you did.

”You’re so wet…” He spoke breathlessly as he entered you with another finger.

You both moaned, feeling you clench around the second digit.

The sight of you, sprawled over his lap, completely at his mercy, was better than Valarr had ever imagined. He held your jaw firmly, lifting you to face him, to look him in the eyes. Your folds were just as eager as you were, sucking him back in every time he drew his fingers out of you. He wanted to watch you come undone, watch you lose yourself around him.

"Faster, Valarr. Please." you mumbled.

By now, his own appetite for your pleasure had grown, the wet blotch of precum on his trousers swelling along with each coat of your arousal.

He bit his lip. He couldn't help but oblige your request.

Unapologetically, you moaned. The sound drowned out beneath the music from performances in the auditorium next door, though you could swear you heard a hitch in the melody at your lewd noises.

However, you could not bring yourself to care.

Deep in your gut, you felt the tightness of your climax building. You were so close, shivering under his grasp, your ass red and ravaged. Your folds tensed erratically around Valarr, his hand now soaked from tip to palm with your wetness.

"Look at you, clenching down your pretty cunt on my fingers," he mocked, "Do they feel that good?"

You only whimpered in reply, nodding your head fervently.

”Yes?” he confirmed, raising his brow smugly, his rhythm unrelenting. "Use your words, Princess."

You moaned louder, "Yes!"

His thumb snaked to the opening of your mouth, rubbing along your lower lip. You gaped, your tongue prodding out slightly. Valarr moaned deeply as you sucked on the finger; your pupils dilated, your gaze drunken.

His pace quickened, curving his fingers to prod deeper into you.

The sounds filling the hall were similar to those of a porno, like the ones Valarr would watch guilty, late at night, thinking of you. But this, this was real, and oh so filthy.

”So desperate," he cooed. "All along, you just needed someone to fuck you straight, didn’t you, sweetheart?”

”Ngh, yes!” you spoke, senseless, consumed by lust and pleasure, with his thumb still placed on your tongue.

Wholly content, Valarr sighed, ”Look how politely you’re answering me now, hm?” He could not be enjoying this more than he already was.

It felt unreal how easily he had reduced you to such a pathetic state with only a few touches.

His hand wrapped around your throat, pressing slightly on its sides. Slowly, he kissed up your shoulder, the pace of it greatly contrasting with the way his other hand was overwhelming your cunt.

When his face had reached your neck, a tender command deepened into your ear, "Cum for me."

The hand on your throat forced you to meet his gaze. You whimpered against him as he added a third finger, the stretch rupturing you into pure ecstasy. Valarr scarcely managed to get a proper pump in before you orgasm clamped down hard around him.

"Ah, Fuck," he groaned.

Your broken, breathless moans spilled into the narrow space between you, Valarr's guiding voice keeping you grounded as he spoke sweet nothings into your lips.

"That’s it, princess. I got you.”

His arm strained as he held his pace, determined to get you through your high.

Your mind fogged.

"Mm, y’so pretty when you cum for me," the hum of his voice vibrated through you.

Your body rutted back and forth, unable to decide whether you wanted him to stop or to bury himself deeper.

"Such a good girl."

With a last jut of your hips, you slumped down, lying onto his chest—his fingers only slowing their pace as they continued to pump into you. Sluggishly, pushing in and out—overwhelming you.

He caressed your hair, relishing how you burrowed your soft moans into his neck.

”Ngh… Ngh… Ngh…” you whined with each deepening of his fingers.

He placed small pecks along your collarbone, speaking between them, "Now what do we say?"

You released a faltered whine, "Th-thank you."

Valarr’s lips curved into a faint smile as he drew you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to you trembling lips. He pulled away before slowly letting his fingers draw out from inside your cunt, and you quivered at the sudden emptiness.

He brought them to his mouth, gingerly licking up your sweet juices, your arousal growing eager again at the sight.

You teased quietly, ”You're such a pervert," only to immediately regret it the instant you saw Valarr arch his brows.

The young man sighed, a grin tugging the sides of his mouth as he lifted his chin sharply, directing you, "On the table."

You bit your lip. For fuck's sake.

Author’s note:

This is my first smut… I might’ve written the warnings wrong, if so I apologize! I’m literally just a girl.

Also english is not my first language, if you see something grammatically incorrect, no you didn’t 👀

dividers by cursed-carmine

support banner by saradika.

[cdragons]

More Modern Vallar HCs 🧋🎏🌯

pairings: modern! valarr targaryen x fem!reader; modern!daeron & modern!kiera; mentions of modern!aerion x childhoodfriend!reader (different one obvs)

synopsis: valarr 'pussy-whipped and ain't even got the girl' targaryen is spiraling over this not-date and we're just here for the food and vibes, daeron is a shit-stirrer lowkey, and kiera is a whimsy princess who is just here for the free entertainment

a/n: this is continued crack from this one, then this one, then this one

another a/n: i tried my best not to make any indications of the reader's race/appearance other than female, i just wanted to add what her outfit looks like

modern! valarr whose mind has been silently replaying your words in his head for the past fifteen minutes with sweating palms, clenched fists, and a queasy stomach as you hummed along to whatever came up on the radio - right now, it was Billy Joel's 'Uptown Girl.'

"Gorgeous," the projector in his mind replayed the way your lips sounded out the word. "You said, 'gorgeous.'"

modern! valarr who knows he's good-looking - seven hells, he's a Targaryen, for fucks' sake. Say what whatever propaganda-swill about his family, but superior bone structure and god-given beauty were long-acclaimed attributes that couldn't be denied. Not to mention, he makes sure to take care of his own body, even without the reminders of his parents and family dietitian. His weekly gym routine was a well-oiled machine that had the perfect rotation to train for satisfactory aesthetic appeal and optimal health.

But gods, knowing all that and hearing you say it, he learned, were two very different beasts. One was fact, and the other was an opinion.

But it was your opinion.

And gods help him, Valarr wanted to hear more.

modern! daeron, who got a text from you asking ordering him to come to the location you sent him and to bring Kiera. The link you sent him showed the coordinates of the food festival you were so excited to try out, but couldn’t because of today. Figured you’d find a way to get what you wanted, one way or another.

“Your pet got stolen by my owner,” he told her blankly.

“Makes sense.” Kiera opened her purse, and inside were Valarr’s keys and phone. “Thought he got nabbed by some weird pervert. I was gonna wait another five minutes before calling security.”

and showed her the message. “Wanna go out and eat some real food?”

Kiera stared at him with narrowed eyes, “Depends…”

Daeron couldn’t blame her for the suspicion – after all, he didn’t have the most spectacular track record of outings. But something in him today was surprisingly eager to go beyond expectations. “I’ll make it fun.”

‘Fun,’ he said, and Kiera’s ears perked up at the mention. She liked ‘fun.’

“What kind of fun?”

“The kind where we see our favorite proper prat lose face before the girl he’s been bloody mad over for the past year, but is still too much of a knob to admit it.”

Shit, that did sound like fun. But was it enough?

“She thinks his name is ‘Valor,’ by the way,” the wry grin turned to a full-on smirk – and, fuck, if it wasn’t devastatingly handsome. “And that you two are dating.”

The noise she made was in no way normal, but fuck it, she was so in.

modern! kiera, who drives because she knows Valarr will literally have a full diva moment if he got word that she let any one of his cousins, regardless if it’s not the demon shortie from hell, drive his precious Mercedes-Benz. But first, they make a stop at Daeron’s flat because no way was he going to walk a whole day in his Loakes’ loafers while stuffing himself with deep-fried monstrosities that would send the average man to cardiac arrest.

“You sure you’re covered?” Daeron looked down and noted the pointed stilettos with sequined butterflies. “We’re probably going to do a lot of walking. She said she wouldn’t mind if you had to borrow some of her clothes, or we could swing by your place, even.”

“Oh, not to worry,” Kiera waved him off before pressing the button that popped open the trunk. “I got that part covered.”

Inside Valarr’s trunk were several dry-cleaning bags, each labeled for a different occasion. Daeron watched her flip through them. ‘Cocktails,’ ‘Clubbing,’ ‘Brunch,’ ‘Renaissance Fair.’ He wondered if he was imagining seeing the one labeled ‘Walk of Shame.’

“Wow.” Daeron watched in bewilderment as the pink-haired girl closed the lid while balancing her picked outfit labeled ‘Food Mood’ and leather sling-back sandals. “My cousin lets you keep a wardrobe in his trunk?” “I don’t really give him a choice. Now, let’s get a move on.” She walked to the elevators with purpose in her stride and determination in her hips. “I’m picking your outfit."

modern! valarr , who found himself giddy as a schoolboy in primary school with his very first crush, when you and he began talking. On the drive, he learned more about you than he would have if the two of you were in some dark, moody pub near campus. For example, that you weren’t in the political science pathway like him, but are planning to pursue a STEM-focused path, which somehow leads to a discussion on medical anthropology

modern! valarr , who swears he’s never been so enthralled to hear about the analyses regarding the cultural interpretations of “susto” or “cold/hot” humoral medicines.

“So, in Yi Ti, the ‘cold/hot’ humor theory was mostly based on the concept of ‘yin and yang,’ which – and I’m probably way underexplaining this – is the idea that life depends on energetic balance. And from there, based on whichever symptoms you had, you would be given stuff from the opposing spectrum.”

“Interesting, how were they distinguished?”

“Okay, so ‘cold’ symptoms included: fatigue, cold limbs, loose stools, and a slow pulse; and ‘hot’ symptoms were, like, high fevers, excessive thirst, dry mouth, and a fast heart rate.”

modern! valarr , who continued to nod along, an easy smile on his face, not only because he liked hearing your voice, but because you sounded so happy and passionate – truly and totally engrossed in the topic. There were moments you paused to think if you should have added some information, decided against it because it would’ve led to another rabbit hole, only to backtrack and tell him about the thing because it would’ve bothered the hell out of you if you didn’t talk about it, so you do end up talking about it and it led down to this whole new thing.

“Wait, so, he gives her the medicine he bribed her with?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And then, she leaves him outside her room to…fantasize about it?”

“Basically.”

“And this is for a gallstone?”

“Yes! Well, no–…okay, so bezoar and gallstones aren’t the same, but they are very similar, and I also got the two mixed up. But so, both are hardened masses formed in the body, yeah? But the bezoar is made up of undigested fiber or hair that’s, sort of, y’know – built up in the intestines. But the gallstone is a hardened mass of bile from inside the gallbladder.”

modern! valarr, who scrunches his face at the thought and verbalizes his doubt.

"No way, it's that expensive," he says.

“No, because it’s actually so insane how much they go for – even now, it’s like,” you paused to round the number (and for dramatic effect), “…like $1,700 an ounce? For a really good, high-quality one, and that’s low-balling it.”

His eyes bulged out of their sockets, “For a hardened mass of hair?!”

“No, no – I know!” You laughed at his reaction because it was so similar to yours when you found out. “It’s really, actually, so insane to think about it. But, like, it’s so valuable and sought-after in traditional YiTish medicine.”

“I…-wha-..I…How?!”

“So, a lot of their value stems from their rarity. Like, only one in… shit, my dad literally told me this the last time I asked… uh… 1000! Yes! Okay, so only 1 in 1000 are found, and it’s even more rare because they can’t be formed on demand, like they did with ginseng. Actually, interestingly enough–”

“Wait, what’d they do with ginseng?”

“Oh! Yeah, so – um…” You paused and furrowed your brow, “hm…”

“You alright?” Valarr looked at you with concern, wondering why you had suddenly stopped.

You nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just…kind of wondering if I should continue because it actually reminds me of something else, but I don’t want to go too off topic from where we were in case you get lost because it’s kind of a deep rabbit hole…”

modern! valarr , who only watched as you mentally calculated what you had said and if it made sense with what you were going to say, and if there was a way to connect it with the show you were previously telling him about.

“Yeah, I don’t need to talk about it. So, there are several types of bezoars, and – no, no, I want to talk about the other thing. So, the thing about ginseng is that…”

Yep, just watching on with the stupid fond look on his face that if anyone asked, he was definitely not making – no, sir.

modern! valarr , who internally deflated when the sat nav told the two of you arrived at the destination, because he thought the car ride was far too short, but is still buzzed with excitement because he still had the opportunity to spend the rest of the day with you.

“Well, hello, cousin!”

modern! valarr , who was no longer internally deflated, but outwardly and externally completely devastated when he saw not only Daeron and his shit-eating grin, but also Kiera, also sporting a shit-eating grin, next to…Bloody hell, was that his Bentley?!

modern! valarr, who shot Kiera a look of betrayal, “Did you…tell me you didn’t let Daeron drive my car!”

“Oi!” Daeron, who had changed out of his spring green suit, gave his younger cousin a look of deep offense. “I’m not that bad.”

“Remind me again how many DUIs you’ve paid off?”

“I’m not the one drowning in one of me ol’ painting shirts,” Daeron turned to you. “You couldn’t have picked something else?”

You rolled your eyes at your friend. Honestly, both boys were such drama queens. “Yeah, well, at least he doesn’t look like he jumped out of a Martha’s Vineyard catalog.” The powder-blue linen shirt and off-white khaki shorts were a far cry from the usual oversized overshirt and well-worn blue jeans. “You’re going to get ten different sauce stains on that shirt before the sun sets.”

“Blame this one,” Daeron pointed at Kiera, who, as always, was gorgeous in her typical whimsy style. The dragonfly crochet crop top was adorably paired with a midi denim skirt with embroidered flowers. “Apparently, the contents of my closet need to be set afire.”

“She’s right, and I’m glad,” you sent a thankful look at the girl. “You’re an angel. He’s a complete hoarder.”

“I can only imagine,” Kiera responded with an understanding nod. She, too, understood the plights of dealing with overdramatic manbabies, her usual one giving a particularly bad stink eye whilst swimming in an American folk band. “It helps when you don’t give them the illusion of a choice.” She gives a smirk and pulls you in close as if sharing a secret. “This one, right here, yeah? His idea of a perfect Saturday is staring at the stock markets on his tiny Apple watch while taking a run around the University Parks. Then, he’ll come straight back, shower, and answer emails.”

“Stop.” You looked at Valarr in horror, and he felt embarrassingly close to apologizing, “Gods, man! At least treat yourself to brunch.”

modern! daeron, who sucks in a breath between his teeth, “Oooo, Valor’s not a one to take part in pleasure. Thinks it’s too pedestrian.”

modern! kiera, who solemnly nodded in tandem, “Yeah, no, real stick in the mud, our Valor.”

modern! valarr , who is staring at the two of them like they had a stroke. “What’re the two of you doing?” he asks.

modern! daeron, who nonchalantly shrugs, “Don’t know what you mean, Valor.”

modern! kiera, who looks at him confused, “Yeah, what do you mean, Valor?”

modern! valarr , whose confusion is growing more visible by the second, “No, you two just did it again.”

modern! daeron and modern! kiera, who both share a knowing look with each other, and modern! Kiera loops her arm with yours as the two of you walk away.

modern! daeron, who swings his arm around his cousin’s shoulders and, with all-too-much amusement in his voice, tells him, “She thinks your name’s ‘Valor,’ mate.”

modern! valarr , who had twenty years of practice in controlling his feelings and not letting his emotions show – for paparazzi, interviews, board meetings … and it all went down the toilet drain.

He blinks in silence as his brain tries to play ‘catch-up,’ “That’s…she…my…please tell me you’re lying.”

modern! daeron and modern! valarr, who both then hear the loud “WHAT?!” echoing through the parking lot, and turn to see Kiera dying from laughter as you stared at the Tyrosh girl in total horror.

modern! daeron, who shakes his head in false pity, “Yeahhhhhh…better to know now than later at the wedding, right, mate?” And then pats his cousin’s back while Valarr’s mouth is wide open and his jaw is on the pavement.

modern! valarr, who’s deeply weighing the pros and cons of committing intrafamilial homicide, but is beaten to the punch when you swoop in to absolutely clobber the fool with your backpack.

“You – stupid – I – hate – mother- FUCK!”

modern! daeron, who can’t stop laughing, even when he’s getting pummeled to the ground by his best friend and sober sponsor (well, ex-sober sponsor, depending on whether or not you’ll talk to him after this).

modern! kiera, who joins back into the fold after she is finally done laughing, “So, shall get the tickets then?”

modern! aerion , who just wanted to take his girl and eat some good food for a good proper first date, only to find himself immediately driving out of the parking lot the moment he sees his brother, their cousin, and their cousin’s prick of a crush.

“Everything okay, Aeri?”

modern! aerion , who looks at his childhood friend and recently turned girlfriend, who’s snuggled in the passenger seat with the weighted blanket he keeps in his car because he likes the AC turned all the way up.

“Yeah, just some random idiots ruining everything,” he grumbled while shaking his head, eyes totally focused on the road. He puts his hand on her knee, and she takes out hers from under the blanket to entwine their hands. “Don’t worry about it.”

 His girl leans over the gearshift to kiss his cheek and smiles when she sees how much he visibly relaxes. “Probably for the best anyway, I didn’t have my dragon head today.”

“Something off with the lights again?”

She shakes her head, “No, I just left it in my room. Can we go get it and go to the pond? I wanna settle things with that swan once and for all.”

modern! aerion , who remembers that swan. He also remembers a pair of ten-year-olds, screaming battle cries with wooden swords and running at that swan at the lake in Summerhall in full force because the winged bastard had eaten her sandwich, and she wanted revenge with the overgrown rat with wings roasted over a fire on a spit.

The two dragons emerged victorious, obviously. But his father gave a proper tongue-lashing that had done more of the opposite of its intended effect.

Because the next day, the dragon and his warrior princess remained in his room, planning out their next attack, but this time, with mud balls.

modern! aerion , who stares at his girlfriend like she hung the stars. “You’re a real fucking nightmare, you know that, right?”

She only smiled. There was a devious look in her eye that only he really knew best. “Birds of a feather, baby.”

a/n: thank you so much for reading - comments are appreciated! ❤️

credit to @cursed-carmine and @222luvr for the beautiful dividers!

tagging (lemme know if you wanna be tagged in all akotsk works or only for a specific character!): @ethereal-athalia, @witch-of-letters, @cardeakelsey, @sphynxestrel, @magpie-dimes, @theoriginalwifeofhanjumin, @fanatic1080, @priscsstuff, @lovelyreader17, @mypizzawizard, @ksuumin, @calicospirit, @a-badbitchwithwifi, @juliettesenna, @baelorandmaekarinparis, @shiningdyingmoon, @ae-gax, @2345perez, @thekingswin, @bitchyfestivalbouquet, @mxunchxkin, @sparrowwithaquill, @iron-way, @auroraawakenings, @renaissancewhxre, @toomuchcoffeetoolateintheday, @calkstis, @thatbird-fromrio, @carmillastomb, @whotftookalltheusernames1, @bigolidioot, @verliebtheitindich, @ravenwing681, @wannabepoeticischiya, @todorokiskitten, @bintangbiru

[asoiaf-things]

This took entirely too long but its a labor of love. This is a comprehensive guide to the lordly houses of Westeros broken down by region with brief histories, traits, personalities, etc. Hopefully this will be useful! I have left out background on the Targaryens as they are the main characters through the series there is a lot of information regarding them. That being said if you'd like more info on any houses I'm more than happy to put out more information. Also if you would like information on any knightly houses, unassigned houses, or extinct houses let me know.

Again this is roughly through the reign of Maekar I

I will likely do a graphic on the Age of Heroes as that is referred to a lot in this guide with houses descending from the First Men. If yall need clarification on anything again let me know

Hope yall enjoy!

If yall made it this far send me some asks! Lets talk about characters and interesting houses. Ask me what my favorite houses are!

[cdragons]

Don’t even wanna think about how long this had to take you - holy shit man 🤯

[cdragons]

am i the only one in this fandom who thinks that modern aerion would get his shit absolutely fucking rocked to heaven, hell, pluto and BACK - if he was dating a nerdy reader who loved to cosplay?

especially if they cosplayed their own OCs - say, oh, i dunno - A DRAGON OC???

i'm not even kidding, this was inspired when i was rereading @catbayunthestoryteller Family Brand for the zillion-th time, and modern aerion is literally just a hot, edgy nerd who likely wants to get into D&D, but is mad bc no one likes his storylines as dungeon master so now he rags on it for spite.

GUYSSSSSSSS - he'd be so into helping you build your cosplays! like - ridiculously into it, especially when it comes to the wings, and don't even get me started on when the two of you are moving to colored contacts - you're riding him later, you know that right? count on it - you better make sure to keep the claws and horns.

will literally propose to you right then and there if you show him your design for his version

even if you don't always go with dragons, and introduce him into the other fandoms you're into, he'll be so into it. let this man go into roleplay - PLS!

has anyone else thought of this? has it ever been done? i feel like this needs to be explored, and not just aerion, but with the rest of the targ men with their nerdy/geeky baddie s/o.

[instructionsnotincluded]

could we have a little teaser for the next wild winds chapter? 🙈

Ooooooh. I gotcha 😉

18+ mdni | Logan’s drunk horny and Rafe’s not.

“I told her about you—about us,” Logan said as she stepped into the bathroom, watching as Rafe flipped on the lights. He didn’t say anything for several seconds as he reached into the shower and turned the faucet on. “Well, to be fair, Ryan told her.”

“Ryan?”

“The guy I work with behind the bar,” Logan inhaled deeply to keep from hiccuping as Rafe closed the shower door, the closed in space filled with steam, and when he looked back at her, his face was unreadable. “He’s been on to us since before we hooked up and guessed that I was with you.” Rafe ran his hand along his jaw before he stepped up to her again, his hands lifting slowly to unbutton her shirt. Quietly, as Rafe reached the last button Logan asked, “What are you doing?”

“Getting you out of these sandy clothes,” Rafe said. He was close and if she took a quarter of a step forward she’d be pressed up against him. Up against his skin.

Thoughts of them in the shower together the last time filled her brain and her voice automatically lowered as hormones took over, “Are you going to join me?”

Rafe gave her a playful smirk and Logan would be lying if she said she didn’t want to lick her way up his chest to his mouth. “Not this time.”

The flames that felt like they were starting to eat her alive if she didn’t get her hands on him soon were quickly extinguished by Rafe’s answer, “What?”

“Gonna let you shower,” Rafe unzipped the side zipper of her skirt after her shirt fell from her frame, “and I’ll get you some water so you can sober up.”

“I’m not drunk drunk.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Logan’s skirt fell after Rafe had it unzipped. He ducked his head and kissed her so lightly Logan wasn’t sure if she imagined it, his warm palms along her hips as he turned her body to face the shower instead of him. “You’re sober when we fuck.”

[cdragons]

Rafe, you smooth bastard

[cdragons]

No one talk to me, I need to explain to my friend theAKOTSK au I’m planning that includes secret dragons, an alive Baelor, a long lost older-sister OC, and a ragebaiter OC (or reader, idk) that’ll get Valarr saying “well, mark me down for scared and horny” through a 30 slide PowerPoint

All bc THIS POST by @lalalovelyly exists

[instructionsnotincluded]

what about any snippet where rafe is angry 🤭

We do love an angry Rafe…

Warnings: Language | 18+ mdni

Chris hit the wall not nearly as hard as Rafe wanted him to, and if it were up to him he probably would’ve put him through the damn thing. But instead Rafe took a little satisfaction by the way his head knocked into the corner of the picture frame, the Calvin Klein dress shirt Chris wore, no doubt purchased at an outlet, rumpled at the collarbones from how tightly the taller boy gripped the material.

“Looks like I hit a nerve.”

“Yeah and you’re on my last fucking one too,” Rafe’s grip tightened a little more, the tips of their shoes knocked together as Rafe loomed closer, his skin nearly vibrated with anger. “I don’t know what sick game you’re playing here, but I’m about to step up to the plate.”

Chris’ laughter only fueled the fire that Rafe had been trying to keep tamped down since Logan got the call—he promised he’d let her handle things but if this smug son of a bitch didn’t stop looking at him that way soon, he wasn’t sure he would be able to keep his promise.

“We both know Logan keeps her boy toys on a tight leash.” Chris grunted when Rafe pressed him harder into the wall.

“I know you’re involved,” Rafe’s voice dropped so low that he knew Chris had to strain to hear, “I know you’re fucking with her, and I know you’re up to something. I know you’re Peterkin’s source, smelled it the moment she got back from the sheriff’s office. You think you’re slick, you think you’ve got the status and the money to play in the big leagues…” Rafe released Chris’ shirt about as roughly as he’d grabbed it, forcing the older boy’s body harder into the wall when he did. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret, asshat, you don’t have a fucking clue how to play in this league. We play for keeps out here on Figure Eight, and by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging for the Cut.”

[cdragons]

FUCK HIM UP RAFE!!!!

[instructionsnotincluded]

i started rereading snow on the beach this past week while waiting for the latest updates on audrey’s version, so any chances for a snippet of what you’ve been working on? :D

Awwww thank you for reading and rereading!

I’m not sure if this will be next chapter or the one after, but here’s a scene coming soon. 😉

Warnings: suggestive conversation | 18+ mdni

Audrey pushed herself up onto her forearms, glancing down at JJ from her hovered position. He looked good, relaxed with his hair pushed back and his lids heavy. His lips had a reddish tint—evidence from their lengthy post-coital make out session. His hand was spread out along her lower back, the pads of his fingers pressing along the various moles that marked her skin, as if he were playing a blind game of connect the dots. He lifted his other hand where it rested beside him, the hard plaster of his cast bumping her skin as he caressed her cheekbone with his thumb.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Audrey dropped her head to kiss him slowly, putting as much love into the kiss as she could, her curls falling all around them, shielding them from the outside world for just a few seconds longer. It wasn’t until JJ pushed some of them back, tucking them behind her ear that she whispered softly against his lips, “There’s a stop I want to make before we all meet up tonight.”

“What kinda stop?” JJ asked, rolling his shoulders back as he rested his head heavily on the pillow behind him.

“One that involves a private jet,” Audrey extended her arms as JJ grunted in response, his eyebrows lifted up almost into his hairline. He caught her with an arm when she moved to climb off him, and Audrey giggled as he rolled them so he now hovered over her.

“I’m sorry—you can’t just throw out the words ‘private jet’ and then think I’m not gonna have any questions.”

Audrey laughed louder as JJ grinned, his head dropping to kiss a line from her collarbone to her ear, Audrey’s fingers disappearing into his hair as he did. “JJ—if we don’t get up now, we’ll miss our flight…”

“Where…” JJ kissed her ear, “are…” his lips slid along her jaw next, “we…” he kissed her on the lips next, slowly before pulling away enough to finish, “going…?”

“Maryland,” Audrey pushed some of the hair away from his face, “it’s a quick flight—forty minutes, I think they said. But we have to get to the airfield in like…twenty minutes.”

JJ pushed himself up and off the bed theatrically and Audrey giggled as the two redressed quickly, “No shower—guess that means I’m gonna smell you all day,” JJ tugged on his t-shirt, ruffling his hair as he watched Audrey reclasp her bra, “and you know that’s my favorite.”

Audrey shook her head, a light blush falling across her cheeks as JJ finished zipping up his shorts, his arms wrapping around her to kiss along her neck and shoulder as she finished buttoning her shorts, “You’re a menace.”

“Just wait until the PJ,” JJ’s open palm landed against her ass cheek and Audrey couldn’t help but laugh as he wandered over to grab his phone and wallet, “forty minutes is plenty of time for a quickie.”

“Mmm,” Audrey tugged the bottom of his t-shirt back towards her when he moved to grab his shoes, her lips pressing to his in a soft, sweet kiss. “Maybe not on our first flight.”

JJ cupped her face with his good hand before he deepened the kiss, “The idea of that makes me so hard right now—might need to roleplay that later...”

Audrey wacked his stomach with the back of his hand and he laughed as he doubled over, “You’re such a horn dog.”

“What can I say, baby?” JJ walked backwards to sit on the corner of the bed before tugging on his socks and then his right shoe, “You get me hot all the time.”

[cdragons]

fuck I need this man biblically

[cdragons]

Let's Have Some Fun - Modern Vallar Drabble 🎀

pairings: modern! valor valarr targaryen x fem!reader; modern bsf!daeron & fem! reader (mentioned)

synopsis: valor valarr targaryen continues to fumble, and we love that for us, but we take him on trip on the wild side

a/n: a continuation of this (part 1), and this (part 2)

modern! valarr whose mind straight up blanked for the first minute after you asked him

-

-

-

"Wanna play?"

Valarr didn't say anything - or more, he couldn't say anything. His entire mind went blank. No, no - that wasn't right either. If anything, he had too many thoughts.

"You look beautiful in that dress."

"What did you think of the final?"

"Are you excited for your time at Summerhall?"

but his tongue felt like lead.

You snapped your fingers in front of his face. "Dude!"

"Hm, what?" He blinked and staggered back. "Sorry, what did you say?"

You held up your game console again, waving it in his face, "Hello? I asked if you wanted to play."

"Oh...oh, no! No, no - I, um," he cleared his throat and tugged the bottom of his sports jacket to straighten it out. "No, thank you."

You raised a questioning brow, "What? Too good for 'Cooking Mama 2'?"

Oh, is that what it's called?

"I, um...I don't really play video games much," he stated, absolutely refusing to admit that he's total shit at them and makes more of a fool out of himself in front of you. "I enjoy reading, though."

The mention of books piqued your interest, "Oh, cool. What kind?"

"Mostly non-fiction and modern contemporary," Valarr replied, only slightly hoping to impress you. "Have you ever read Sabrina Imbler's memoir?"

"No, what's it about?"

"It's actually a really interesting collection of essays - sort of a hybrid between marine biology and her own personal memoir."

"Oh, cool!" To your credit, you looked genuinely interested, even if you were unfamiliar. "I don't really read any nonfiction, so that sounds interesting to try out."

"Yeah, I recommend it!" Valarr wanted to high-five himself - this was going so much better than he could've hoped. "So, what books do you like reading?"

"Oh, nothing impressive," you replied. "Lately, I've gotten into graphic novels."

"Really? Like what?"

"Well, um - oh! I've been binge-reading the 'Heartstopper' series. The art's adorable, and the characters are so sweet."

"Oh! That sounds like something my little cousin would like!"

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Valarr wanted to immediately take them back. Watching the excited spark in your eye dim a little after he so carelessly insulted you.

"Yeah, no," you looked down at your feet. "I'm sure she would. It's, uh...it's really great."

Valarr stammered his apology, frantic to correct his mistake. "I-I wasn't insulting your tastes! I just meant...uh...well, see - Daella! She's my cousin, and...and, her, um - her birthday's coming up, so I...I thought..."

"Dude, seriously - it's fine," you laughed him off. You looked unbothered, but Valarr clearly saw that you just didn't want to hear him stammer like an idiot any longer. "Don't worry about it." You nodded to the empty side of the bench. "You can sit if you want."

Truth be told, he'd find it more fitting to find a rock to crawl under.

The Westerling grounds covered at over 40 acres of land. That’s over 160,000 squared meters, which could roughly cover 25 footie stadiums in length alone.

So what were the odds that of all the tiny hidden corners you crawled into to escape this overstimulatory nightmare, Daeron’s younger cousin wandered into YOURS???

He wasn’t even making eye contact with you anymore! Just staring at a wall and holding his drink like a fucking lifeline - like, BRO, if you hate being here so much, fucking MOVE! You were literally here first!

You scooted away from Valor, “Um, so,” you were just at the edge of the bench. “I’m just gonna…”

“Wait!” He grabbed your wrist. It was so sudden you had no idea how to react, so you only bewilderedly stared at the hand. “Are you enjoying the match?”

You blinked. “Um…yeah, sure, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, I guess it’s pretty cool,” you shrugged as the lie easily rolled off your tongue. You knew Daeron’s family were patrons of the foundation that hosted this championship, so you knew it wouldn’t look good if you told his cousin how you really felt. “I’m enjoying everything.”

Valor narrowed his stare, scanning for any tells of dishonesty. “You’re lying.”

To which he found - fuck.

“Yeah, I am. Sorry.” You sheepishly grinned, embarrassed at being caught. Glancing down, you noticed his hand was still around your wrist. Was…was he seriously still holding it? “Um, so…can I have my hand back?”

“Hm?” Valor looked down, the tips of his ears turning red at the realization. He pulled back as if your skin was suddenly contagious. “Sorry!”

You did your best not to look offended. “It’s cool.”

Not really, but why bother?

The air between you two shifted back to tense awkwardness. The both of you went back to sitting apart, staring at walls, and not speaking. You could go back to your game - but how could you relax in all this tension?

You sneaked a side glance at Valor’s face. Listen, there was no point in denying it, alright? The guy was downright gorgeous. Although, to be fair everyone with the Targaryen name won the face card lottery. As if it weren’t enough they pretty much owned everything in the country. Even Aerion, fucking pain in the ass as he is, was fucking beautiful with his sharp jawline and plush ‘do-me’ lips.

But, alas, the feminist in you persisted. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to impair your judgement to the point of tolerating his presence for five minutes, let alone for a good hate-fuck sess.

Probably for the best anyway - guy was way too much of a narcissist to give good oral.

Valor cleared his throat. “Care to share what you find so fascinating regarding my face?”

Shit, without realizing it, your discreet side-eye turned to full-on staring.

Well, no point in hiding it now.

“You’re pretty,” you admitted bluntly.

A beat passed. And then another. On the third, Valor gave off a self-satisfied preen.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting,” he sat a bit taller, looking rather pleased at this information. “Which part?”

“Which part what?”

“Which part do you like best?”

You thought about it for a bit. What part, indeed? Everything about Valor gave off the appearance of a charming prince. Polished and perfect. But there was one feature that struck you the most.

“Your eyes,” you answered with confidence. Listen, Jareth from the Labyrinth made a very lasting impression on preteen you, okay? What, were you supposed to not notice it? “Heterochromia suits you.”

“Does it?” Valor seemed to glow brighter with each compliment paid. “I’ll have to thank my father for that.”

Your brows furrowed at this new information. “You got it from your dad?”

For whatever reason, that question absolutely deflated him of all confidence. “You really don’t pay attention to our family, do you?”

“Not really,” you shrugged, not bothering to deny it. “Everything I know is basically what Daeron told me.”

“And that includes...what, exactly?”

“Not much,” you admitted, catching onto his new interest. “I know more about his side of the family than yours from experience.”

“Such as?”

“Egg’s my favorite,” that was first thing to pop in your head. “And Maekar’s fun to mess with.”

Valor’s eyes widened with surprise, like he hadn’t expected that response. “Egg? Not Daeron?”

“My favorite bald terror,” you declared with a firm nod. “And Daer’s in the top 10.”

“He’s got to get it up.”

“That’s what she said.”

Valor looked so genuinely caught off-guard by that last part, like he couldn't believe those words were actually spoken aloud. But then, the shock of it, plus your deadpanned expression, made him snort so loudly that it caught you off guard, to which he immediately ducked his head, cheeks a tad flushed from the noise. You didn’t mind - if anything, you wished he did it more. But he did. A lot, too - because he looked around, as if to check if anyone had accidentally caught him sounding human instead of posh and porcelain.

“Why’d you do that?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“Do what?”

“Just now,” you pointed out, “you acted human and then looked like you committed a class-A felony.”

What you said clearly hit some sort of nail, but the guy looked at you like you were crazy. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I did not,” he insisted stubbornly.

“You did,” the corners of your mouth twitched in glee.

“Did.” Valor was growing frustrated by the exchange. He leaned forward to stare straight in your eyes. “Not.”

Ooooooooo, now this was getting fun.

“Diiiiiiiid,” you were full-on smirking. “Did, Did, did, did Di-di dadedadeda.”

Your shoulders shimmied and shot fingers-guns at him, taking full and total advantage of this opportunity. Absolutely reveling in how he was staring so resolutely at some random foliage, absolutely determined to show his ire and maintain his ‘princely’ image. But you see the way his jaw clenched with turned eyes and the bright redness on his cheeks that cannot be blamed on the summer heat.

Valor opened his mouth, only for nothing to come out, and he closed it again. He repeated it, and your smile grew wider with each failed attempt of defense before he finally gave up.

"I don't need to dignify this any further," he grumbled, turning away so you couldn't see his embarrassment, nor could he see your look of smug triumph.

You couldn't help yourself and laughed. Loud and genuine. Head thrown back and stomach almost hurting. What a turn of events. You came to this stupidly boring event because Daeron promised you free food and well-deserved gossip, but seeing this new side of Westeros’ ‘Young Prince?’ It was an unexpected surprise. Not unwelcome, thought. Every time he talked to you, it felt so…forced - like he was trying to make you like him. What’s weird was how obvious it looked. Today, you saw how he acted around his girlfriend. It was so comfortable and easy. And not just her, but everyone who came up to greet him and his family.

Five minutes, though? There was the slightest terror beneath the charmed visage. But now? You could see yourself getting along with this guy.

"Are you quite finished?" Valor flatly asked, not at all humored by your continued amusement at his expense. It was obvious this was not how he expected this conversation to go. "People are starting to look."

"Oh, really?" You looked around, the laughter calming down a bit. "Who?"

"Reporters, tabloids, nosy influencers. Literally anyone with a camera."

"Oh, what? Scared the public seeing their 'golden prince' act like a human?"

"They won't see it that way," he replied bitterly before taking a swing of his drink. "Vigilance is a learned necessity. Believe me."

Your smile dimmed a bit - you didn't mean to make fun of him. You really didn't; you were just so used to Daeron's flippant nature and casualness. If it wasn't to report his "latest stunt" or some appearance at some obscure gala, the cameras left him alone for the most part. But then again, that may have more to do with the public having long given up on Maekar Targaryen's eldest son making any notable contribution to the family name than anything else.

But that wasn't the case for Valor. No, he was the 'golden child,' a moniker Daer told you with pity rather than bitterness.

Fuck, you were a jerk.

...And you were going to make it up to him.

Closing your game and tucking it in your bag, you stood and brushed off the imaginary crumbs from your dress. Turning to the frowning prince, you held out your hand.

"Let's go."

Valor blinked at the order, looked at your open hand, then back at you. "Wh...where?"

"Don't know yet, let's just go."

He pointed outside, lost and very confused. "The match is still-"

"Oh, c'mon," you rolled your eyes, "do you actually care?"

When he didn't reply, you took a page from his book earlier, grabbing his wrist, and without a word, you walked to the back with him being dragged by your wrist. Your grip wasn't strong or anything, but he didn't pull away or try anything to break it - only continuing to walk behind you.

If you ever turned around, once - just once - you would've seen the dazed, dreamy look in his eyes that stayed locked on the way you held onto his hand. Not a clue where the hell you were taking him, and not daring to ruin it.

Valarr didn't have a goddamned clue what the hell you were planning. So far, you have the following:

Dragged him out of the Rose Court, away from the crowd, and into the parking lot to where, in a sea of Rolls-Royce, Bentleys, and Aston Martins, sat your blue Honda Civic

Shoved him into the backseat, tossing him a knapsack of what he assumed to be Daeron's clothes before you slid into the front

Ordering him to change, leaving no room for him to ask questions, because you had started the ignition and begun driving out of the parking lot

What's worse, he didn't even bring his phone or wallet.

...Fuck, his father was going to kill him.

And he didn't ask out of equal parts of not wanting you to stop, and maybe a tiny bit of fear - plus, you pulled the car to the shoulder once you saw he was done changing, so you could change.

No, he was not at all tempted to take a peek, not in the slightest. Nor was he at all jealous of the fact that you and Daeron had clearly made plans, since the two of you co-planned a change of outfits for today.

Nope, not jealous. Not jealous at all.

"Okay, I'm decent now!"

Valarr turned around and thanked the seven for his years of media training. You were stunning in your dress and heels - as if you could look anything less. But, this? Wearing a pair of blue denim overalls with a crop top and well-worn Converse? You looked...looked - loose. Or, no - unbound was perhaps the more appropriate term.

Was this your typical style? Your preferred clothing aesthetic? Or was it reserved for more special occasions? Occasions where you and Daeron were together...alone?

No, no - he was not jealous. Not at all. Not even a bit.

What Valarr felt, however, was self-conscious. He looked fucking ridiculous. His cousin's closet was filled with oversized tees and jeans that dragged on the ground, whereas Valarr preferred a trimmer, more fitted cut of Oxford button-down and fitted slacks. Even worse, Daeron was 6 ft and 2 in - literally half a foot taller than him! The faded 'Simon & Garfunkel' graphic tee drowned him, almost making it look like a dress, and jean shorts that he needed to roll the waist up three times just to keep it from falling down.

Valarr huffed. Here he was, at the side of some back road, looking like an oversized hipster, while you resembled a delightfully niche urban-boho fairy.

"Gods, I look fucking ridiculous," he thought, wanting to bury himself in a whole somewhere.

"Aww, you look cute in 60s memorabilia."

Never mind, he needs to buy ten of these shirts in this exact size.

"Are you going to share where you plan to take me?" Valarr finally questioned after the two of you settled back in the front. He watched you type an address into Google Maps. "Or should I expect a ransom class to be made?"

You flashed a cheeky grin full of teeth, and Valarr had to pretend very hard that it didn't squeeze his heart a little, "Not today, gorgeous."

Fuck, you were trying to kill him.

a/n: next one will go back to the bullet-point hcs format - comments are appreciated! ❤️

credit to @cursed-carmine and @222luvr for the beautiful dividers!

tagging (lemme know if you wanna be tagged in all akotsk works or only for a specific character!): @ethereal-athalia, @witch-of-letters, @cardeakelsey, @sphynxestrel, @magpie-dimes, @theoriginalwifeofhanjumin, @fanatic1080, @priscsstuff, @lovelyreader17, @mypizzawizard, @ksuumin, @calicospirit, @a-badbitchwithwifi, @juliettesenna, @baelorandmaekarinparis, @shiningdyingmoon, @ae-gax, @2345perez, @thekingswin, @bitchyfestivalbouquet, @mxunchxkin, @sparrowwithaquill, @iron-way, @auroraawakenings, @renaissancewhxre, @toomuchcoffeetoolateintheday, @calkstis, @thatbird-fromrio

[cdragons]

Heyyy I know u already said that you were working on a part 2 But just imagine that reader's hanging out with daeron watching tennis or something ( idk) and just asking him for gossip just bcos she's doing such a favour for him attending for this borrring event and valarr not hearing what's actually going nad totally not being jealous at all ( that's what he's saying to keira) Though feel free to ignore if u had another scenario in mind just thoughtsss

completed!!! got a little outta hand tho, ngl

Here you go: 🎾🎾🎾

[cdragons]

Girldad Baelor Targaryen HCs 🎀⋆｡‧˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚‧｡⋆🎀

pairings: girldad! baelor targaryen & daughter!reader (THIS IS PLATONIC)

synopsis: baelor targaryen would be the ultimate girldad

a/n: sorry to those who wanted wife!reader, i just ended up rolling with daughter!reader bc i really wanted some girldad!baelor fluff in my life, but if you still want wife!reader after reading this, pls let me know in the comments!

daughter!reader who was the apple of Baelor's eye the second you came into the world - crying, screaming, and oh, so perfect.

Baelor burst out of the council room and stormed through the Red Keep's halls to his destination. All morning, he had been locked in discussion with the members of the Small Council; this year's harvest from the Reach was less than expected, and their lords were demanding the crown's intervention in settling matters of the small folk. A discussion that should have only lasted two hours at most nearly took up the entire morning.

And due to the lords' prattle, Baelor was neither informed the moment your mother's labour began, nor was he present at your birth.

A fact that would never be forgotten - Baelor would ensure that.

"A girl, your Grace," Maester Yormwell announced, voice trembling and eyes misty, as he handed the prince the newest addition to the royal family. "A healthy princess - ten fingers and ten toes."

Baelor 'Brakespear' Targaryen, firstborn son to King Daeron and Queen Myriah, Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne.

As soon as he laid his eyes on your face - scrunched and oblivious to the world - he was reduced to your loyal servant for all your years.

Baelor took you in his arms, and in that moment, he swore - on his name, on his life - that he would make the world safe and sound for you.

daughter!reader who Baelor insists on taking everywhere with him. Everywhere the Hand of the King went, you were in his arms, balanced on his hip - your tiny, chubby hands always clutching your father's doublet and pawing at his beard. Anytime someone entered the Hand's solar, Baelor would be revising numbers and queries with you sitting in his lap. Eyes glued to the paper, one hand writing out solutions to whatever problem was addressed to him, the other holding you close to ensure that neither of your tiny, chubby hands grabbed anything that could mean potential harm.

He had been staring at this piece of parchment for far too long. Impassive was his face, but exhaustion was stark in how his shoulders sagged and the furrow in his brow. Royal finances were always tedious to look over, but they needed to be done. If not addressed immediately, it would result in the kingdom's suffering. Baelor refused to allow such a future arise.

Setting the quill down, Baelor closed his eyes and leaned back against his chair. A moment's reprieve to ease some of the tension. But the weight in his lap shifted, and a soft gurgle entered his ears. Baelor opened one eye to peer down to see you looking up - eyes wide with innocence and completely unaware of the burdens that your family name demanded. Your father's expression softened immediately and decided to impart some words of wisdom to you.

"Remember this well, sweetling," he whispered gently, the familiarity of his voice enraptured all your attention. "This family will require much strength and test your will." He stroked your round cheek with the back of his finger as he continued to take in the sight of you. "But steady patience and a firm morality will help prepare you for any obstacle that may come your way."

You grabbed his finger with both hands and placed it in your mouth. Baelor softly chuckled as his eyes filled with absolute love and adoration for you, his little princess. Too engrossed with your actions to even look up when the door to his solar creaked open and see who interrupted his peace. But there was no need for Baelor to break his concentration - the steady, measured strides gave away his eldest.

Valarr stopped before his desk. He nodded in greeting and spoke in an even tone, "Father."

"Valarr," Baelor nodded back.

"It has been one hour past since Grandfather called for the Small Council meeting today."

"Has it?" Baelor looked at the sundial in confirmation. Indeed, it was as his son stated, an hour had passed. He stood from his desk, still holding you in his arms as he strode past your brother. "Thank you for reminding me, son. Let us be off."

Valarr stepped in front before Baelor could pass through the door. "Father."

"Yes?"

"Grandfather told me that I need not attend this meeting as cupbearer, therefore," Baelor watched your brother open his arms with great amusement, "in the best interest of the princess, I should take over in watching her."

daughter!reader who was equally spoiled by her older brothers, no matter how much they pretended otherwise.

Baelor raised a brow, "I do not think that necessary.

"I assure you, it certainly is."

Baelor held you a bit tighter, "Her highness' attendance will prove most beneficial for her education."

"Not if the king and his Hand spend the entire time cooing after her," Valarr declared as he ever so patiently eased you in his arms, his and Baelor's mismatched eyes lighting up in joy at the sight of you snuggling to your eldest brother's warmth. "Ease your worry, the princess will not notice your absence in mine and Matary's company."

"How very generous." Baelor gave a flat stare to your brother for his quip, but upon looking at your peaceful face, his irate gaze softened. Pressing a kiss on your temple and a comforting pat on your brother's shoulder, he bid his goodbye. "I shan't be too long."

"Take all the time needed, Father," Valarr replied. When Baelor left the room, and your eldest and most serious brother was confident the heir to the throne was out of earshot, he took on a more jovial tone. "Hello, little sister! Big brother will watch over you today!”

Unknownst to his son, Baelor remained just outside his solar. An amused chuckle gave way when he continued his way to the council room. It filled his heart with joy to see his sons receive their newest sibling so warmly. While they met his second wife with skepticism, they were more than happy to play with their little sister.

daughter!reader who Baelor could never deny anything of which you desire.

A lemon cake before dinner? Alright, just one, but no telling your mother, and you must finish all your veggies.

You brought in a bunny from the woods to take it in as a royal pet? How wonderfully fitting. Fantastic idea. Yes, sweetest, you can absolutely name it “Ser Flounce.”

You drew on the carefully drawn up diagram for the new drawbridge that had been thrice-revised by your grandfather, your father, and the architects? Well, in your defense, it was a very pretty pony.

You think Papa, Uncle, and Grandpapa should be decorated with pink ribbons? Oh, but of course, what a lovely idea. Yes, your Uncle Maekar certainly could use some brightening up. No, no, no, dearest, even bigger - perfect.

daughter!reader who grew up escaping her nursemaids and running out of her septa’s lessons without consequence.

You little feet pitter-pattering across the stone floors of the Red Keep, giggles ringing like small bell-chimes as you was chased down by whomever was supposed to be watching you, and would always run to Baelor, regardless whomever he discussed with at the moment.

“PAPA!” You called out to your father with glee. 

The Hand of the King recognized your voice in an instant and turned to see you running towards him with a smile that beamed brighter than the Dornish sun. He crouched down with open arms as you barreled into him, arms flinging around his neck and you clung onto him tightly. 

Baelor stood tall with you secure in his arms, “Byka prumia,” he whispers, as he presses a kiss to your round cheek, humming in appreciation at your erupted giggles. “And to whom do I thank for you gracing me with such a warm welcome?”

Before you could answer, a cry rang through the hall, “Princess!” Further down the hall, an exhausted figure ran to the little Princess and her father, and finally stopped to catch her breath when she reached them. “My Prince, my Lords,  please forgive me. I did not mean to present myself in as such an unkempt mess.” Bereft as she was, the old septa still bowed in respect to the prince and the lords surrounding him. She bowed once more before setting her sights on you. A furrowed brow and pursed lips made clear that a stern lecture was in your very near future. “Princess, how many times have I asked you not to run out of your lessons?”

You gave it no thought, having been in this discussion many times already in your life, “Lots.”

Septa Lemore’s furrowed brow grew deeper, “And yet, you still do not obey?”

You shook your head with a toothy grin, “No!”

“Ah, running away from Septa Lemore again, my heart?” Baelor bounced you in his arms. His pointed stare gave off no heat as you snuggled closer. “That is very un-princess-like, indeed.”

“But I was bored!” You pitifully whined at your father. If you had to stitch another flower, you would surely expire! “I told Matarys that there were mermaids in Godswoods lake, and he laughed!” You pouted at the memory of your eldest brother - you’d show him! “He laughed at me and called me ‘silly,’ Kepa! So you must come with me so that we can prove him wrong!”

Your father laughed at your logic. A genuine, loud laugh. Truly, there was not another child in all the realms with an imagination as whimsically active as yours. Nor as demanding, likely.

You huffed in indignation, “You, too, think me silly!” 

Baelor shook his head, “No, no, no, my sweet girl - no, of course not.” He pressed little kisses on both your cheeks to placate your ire. “Not at all. But searching for mermaids must come at another time, I’m afraid.” He gently placed your feet on the ground. “As you must return to your lessons with Septa Lemore.”

“…and after my lessons?” 

“After your lessons will be supper, my sweet.” He tapped your nose with a smile. “But if you are patient and treat Septa Lemore with respect, then we will look for the mermaids in the lake for a whole day. Will that suffice, dearest?”

You thought of it for a moment. Lessons were very boring, and you certainly did not want to return to them. But the idea of an entire day with your beloved father to prove your brother wrong was most definitely better than a few short hours. Even if that meant you’d have to suffer more dull lessons. 

“Very well,” you nodded in agreement. But before the Prince of Dragonstone could return to his royal duties, you held out your hand, and looked at him expectantly. “But first, you must walk with me back to my lessons.”

“Oh? Must I?”

“Yes, you must.” You looked him straight in the eyes with all the seriousness you could muster. “Princely fathers must always escort their princess daughters.”

And how could one argue against such sound logic? 

Baelor nodded in understanding, turning to the lords that were still waiting. “Excuse me, my lords, I must honor my duties to the princess.” 

He gently held his most precious daughter’s hand as the two of you, along with Septa Lemore, walked back to your lessons. 

"You realize our family name and image will long be dragged through the shit-stained streets of Flea Bottom before you deny that child anything."

Baelor looked up from the scroll to see his Maekar, his youngest and most loyal brother, stare down at him with all the severity his nickname, the 'Anvil,' promised. Sadly, though, his little brother's sour and stern glower proved to be of little effectiveness. What, with the addition of pink ribbons and flowers tied to his silver-gold strands. Try as he did, Baelor could not stop the peals of laughter fighting their way out of his chest. Gods, he had not laughed so hard since the first time Maekar's little jewel donned a crown of roses and brushed him with rouge.

"Oh, fuck off," Maekar spat, crossing the room in three strides to sit across from his brother at his desk. The brutish scowl did little in drawing any attention away from the reddening tips of his ears. "That child is a fucking menace."

"Such discourteous words, brother," Baelor scolded, though there was no heat in his words. No, he was much too amused by the sight - that much was clear. "Especially when they are directed at your niece, who has yet to celebrate her fifth name day."

"Gods help us all," Maekar shuddered at his brother's reminder. "Dare I ask how much damage the royal treasury will take?"

Baelor shook his head with a chuckle, "You need not worry. I managed to talk our father out of hosting a tourney. We'll have a feast, as is customary." He picked up his quill to begin his writing, continuing on with his original task. "I trust Mother is pleased to have her jewel so close again?"

"Fucking hells, don't remind me," Maekar pressed the heel of his palm against his eyes. "Since our arrival, Mother's been badgering me nonstop to betroth my daughter to Valarr. I've had to all but lock my girl in her room, stating that she was ill just to get a fucking moment's peace."

The eldest among the two chuckled softly and was met with another narrowed glare from his younger brother. "You laugh now, but soon your girl will be of age, and it will be your turn with Father breathing down your neck for suitors for her hand."

Baelor's amusement came to an abrupt stop. "That day will not come for many a year."

Maekar barked a short laugh. "Not so many, believe me." But his amusement was short and faded to a serious line. "No, the years come much too fast."

A somber silence fell upon the two brothers. The once-light mood in the solar shifted to something tense. An atmosphere too taut until the large doors opened with neither a knock nor announcement, and the two brothers looked up to see the centers of their worlds peeking in as if to test the waters of a dock.

Baelor relaxed immediately. A small smile curves at his mouth and gives silent permission for you and your favorite cousin to enter.

"Hello, Papa!" you dashed into the room straight to your father, you stood on your tippy-toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Mandia and I made tea!

"Hāedar, you must announce yourself before entering," your sweet cousin instructed while following close behind. In her hands balanced a silver tray with tea and a plate of honeyed dates. She set it aside before kissing her father's cheek and nodding to her uncle. "Kepa, Uncle, I hope you don't mind, but I brought a pot of tea. The tea is a blend I cultivated in Summerhall."

"Thank you, niece," Baelor gave a warm smile to his brother's eldest daughter. "My brother has told me your blend is quite miraculous."

"Father likes to boast," she replied, cheeks flushed at the praise, but still pleased nonetheless, while handing her father a cup. "It is none too special."

"Nonsense," Maekar scoffed, waving off his child's modesty before taking a sip. The familiar taste was enough to ease much tension in his aged body. "Every other tea now tastes of horse piss in comparison."

You gasped at your uncle's language and pointed an accusatory finger at him, "Papa! Uncle said a bad word again!"

Baelor nodded and lifted you onto his lap, "Yes, and you must never say those words yourself, sweetling." He tickled your tummy, causing you to burst with laughter. "Were you good and helped your cousin prepare this tea?"

"Yes!" You nodded triumphantly, chest puffed up with pride at your accomplishment. "Mandia wanted to give you and Uncle fruit, but I told her you liked honeyed dates better!"

"A most wise pairing, daughter," your father's praise gave you reason to beam. "It will certainly aid your uncle and me as we discuss royal finances."

"Do you require any assistance, Uncle?" your cousin asked as she handed Baelor his cup. "I've assisted Father in looking over the accounts at home. Perhaps I could help ease the load."

Maekar waved his hand, "Absolutely not," he shot down immediately. He turned to her with a stern frown. "Tonight we'll be joined by your brothers, and gods help us all, I'll need to borrow as much as your strength permits in handling them."

Your cousin pursed her lips, "But-"

"Mandia!" You tugged on her skirt with a pout. "You promised to read to me when we finished serving the tea! Do not break your promise!"

"Oh," she gave a cheeky grin, "did I?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, very well," she took your hand in hers before saying her goodbyes to your father and hers. "Father, please remember to rest a bit yourself. You always look a bit worse for wear whenever we come to Kings Landing."

Maekar rolled his eyes, but Baleor could tell his brother was touched by his daughter's concern. There was a reason she was his very favorite amongst the seven. "My own child lecturing me on my horrid appearance, how very befitting," he drawled, but took her other hand in his and softly patted it to give her some ease of mind. "This will not take long."

You waved to your father and uncle before exiting the solar, eager to spend the day with your most beloved cousin before supper. "Bye-bye, Papa!"

"See you at supper, dearest."

"Do not take too long, Father."

"Yes, yes."

The large doors closed again, and the solar grew quiet once more. But the air held much less intensity than before. No doubt due to the princesses that graced their fathers with their presence, if only for a short while.

Yes, the future was uncertain, but if their girls could remain safe and happy - all was right in the House of the Dragon.

roll credits...wait-

a/n: yea, i'm also planning to make girldad maekar hcs w/ an eldest daughter!reader

credit to @cursed-carmine and @222luvr for the beautiful dividers!

tagging (lemme know if you wanna be tagged in all akotsk works or only for a specific character!): @ethereal-athalia, @witch-of-letters, @cardeakelsey, @sphynxestrel, @magpie-dimes, @theoriginalwifeofhanjumin, @fanatic1080, @priscsstuff, @lovelyreader17, @mypizzawizard, @ksuumin, @calicospirit, @hieronymph, @a-badbitchwithwifi, @juliettesenna, @baelorandmaekarinparis, @shiningdyingmoon, @ae-gax

[222luvr]

໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა pink divider dump ! ♡

౨ৎ : : credit not needed, reblog if using ♡

[cdragons]

beautiful

[cdragons]

Hey! So im planning on making some girldad! Baelor headcanons, and I’m a little stuck wondering how to proceed.

Would you guys prefer if I wrote it as a daughter!reader or Baelor x wife!reader and the daughter is your guys’ daughter?

Pls lemme know in the comments!

[cdragons]

Heyyy I know u already said that you were working on a part 2 But just imagine that reader's hanging out with daeron watching tennis or something ( idk) and just asking him for gossip just bcos she's doing such a favour for him attending for this borrring event and valarr not hearing what's actually going nad totally not being jealous at all ( that's what he's saying to keira) Though feel free to ignore if u had another scenario in mind just thoughtsss

completed!!! got a little outta hand tho, ngl

Here you go: 🎾🎾🎾

[cdragons]

Modern BSF Daeron HCs ft. Modern Yearning Vallar

pairings: platonic bsf! daeron targaryen & platonic bsf!fem!reader, and yearning! valarr targaryen x oblivious! fem! reader

synopsis: daeron wins the title best girlfailure in our hearts - no, i will not take any criticism on that take

a/n: a following crack to this crack but with bsf! daeron as an mc!

modern bsf! daeron who went back to university after rehab because the fucking therapist maekar pays for said 'it's important for still-budding men such as yourself to seek out their potential.'

modern bsf! daeron who was probably the oldest student in the lecture halls and seminars, sat in the back because he couldn't stand the idea of people sneaking looks at him, wondering why the familial failure still bothers to try

modern bsf! daeron who went back to his old habits of crashing frat parties and sending his liver to an early grave with whatever jungle-juice swell they decided to serve

modern bsf! daeron who blacked out, only to wake up with ice water dumped on his face as he belligerently stared at his 'savior.'

"hey, you prick!" the large blur was talking. it sounded female. "did you really think you could just fucking vomit on me, and then knock out?!" daeron blinked. he tried to speak, but it just came out as "shhhhhhhhh." the blur groaned before lifting him up, using her body as a resting spot for his attempt to stand. "do you at least got a phone on you?" phone. phone... daeron thought for a bit. "...chucked it..." "god-fucking-dammit."

modern bsf! daeron who woke up the next day in his boxers, but wearing a soft, too-tight Hello Kitty t-shirt - oh, and a clearer image of the blur whose stare wasn't nearly as scary as maekar's, but fairly damn close

"um, miss, we didn't...um..." gods, this was fucking mortifying, "there was no-"

you pointed to the door. on the hook was a spare towel and Head-and-Shoulders 2-in-1 inside a caddy. "you're taking a shower and paying for my dry-cleaning." "yes, ma'am."

modern bsf! daeron who, do not ask him how, ended up with the nosiest, helicopter-y, nit-picky woman in all of Westeros as a best friend

modern bsf! daeron who couldn't be more grateful for you in his life and wouldn't trade you for anything in the world

modern bsf! daeron who still struggled with his demons - insomnia, sleep paralysis, depression, anxiety, grief, as life didn't suddenly become rainbows and gold after you barged yourself into his life - but now had you to help in making it manageable

modern bsf! daeron who dropped out of business and moved to art after you stayed when he told his father during a surprise visit that went shockingly well and tame

-

-

-

...assuming no one commented on the bite marks on maekar's arm that day when he returned to the office

"say that again, you fucking boomer! say that again to my fucking face!" "sweetie! sweetie - you made your point!" "lemme at him, daeron! i can take him!"

modern bsf! daeron who realized in that moment, he got hit with the found family trope irl and when second-year came, asked you to be his flatmate

modern bsf! daeron who is now almost a year into his sobriety, pursuing a passion he forgot he loved, on not terrible terms with his father anymore, and isn't dreading the long vacation at summerhall for once because you'll be there bitching about everyone in the corner with him

modern bsf! daeron who got fucking hosed down in medium roast summer isles brew by his baby cousin when he innocently showed him your instagram page

modern bsf! daeron who forgot how much of a nosy brat modern! valarr was as kid and already planning on making up some long-winded tale on how your grandmother suddenly got too ill and you could no longer grace his family with your presence and you needed to go to Dorne immediately to nurse her to health

---------> you didn't have a grandmother in Dorne, but valarr didn't know that, did he?

modern bsf! daeron who was going to announce the tragic news to his family, when Egg is talking his ear off about showing you all his favorite spots in the woods, Aemon listing off his favorite parts of those new books you and daeron got him for his birthday, and the twins, Daella and Rhae, are squealing his ear off because you were so nice and you got the boys to listen and make them sit and play princess with them and - oh, seven fucking hells, he couldn't do it

modern bsf! daeron whose phone is contemplating suicide by the sheer volume of texts modern! valarr keeps sending him - all about you

valarr: she seems really quiet and polite, makes sense she'd be interested in art. do you know what specific time era she likes best? does she like romanticism or prefer post-war modernism? daeron: valarr, it is five in the fking mornig

modern bsf! daeron who can admit, alright, if he had to lose you to any one of his family members, then he supposed he'd want it to be his younger cousin

modern yearning! valarr who was the golden prince of the targaryen dynasty, the shining heir, the eternal bright light son who could never disappoint

modern yearning! valarr who, at the very least, wouldn't ever treat you less than how you deserved and would absolutely give you the princess treatment you gushed over when reading one of your many, many romantasy books

modern yearning! valarr who could pretend all he wished, but modern bsf! daeron could see the streak of obsession in those mismatched eyes whenever he brought up your name, it was the very same one that cursed every targaryen one way or another

"hey, did you know my cousin's in your class?" daeron not-so-casually brought up during dinner one day. "maybe you've seen him?" "hm?" you glanced up from your plate, cheeks full with food - oh, yeah... you quickly nodded and swallowed so that you didn't accidentally choke. "yeah, i think so - it was um...it's uh... valor, i think?" gods, he tried to stop the giant shit-eating grin taking up his face - but to no avail, "yep, that's the one - so, how come you've never asked about him?" now you were really confused, "why would i ask you about him?" "dunno, just thought you might be curious, is all," daeron casually shrugged, relieved to know that your friendship wasn't never borne from the desire to get closer to his perfect cousin. "just wanted you to know it's okay if you do." "yeah, not interested," you forked a piece of stir-fried broccoli into your mouth. "tries to talk to me sometimes - probably feels bad for me or something." "what, why?" "hell if i know - pretty sure he doesn't even know my name."

modern bsf! daeron who's now about...86% sure that his cousin's obsession with you has more to do with your lack of worshipping him, and not because he actually knew anything about you

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...no, seriously, did you have some alter ego he didn't know about? when have you ever been quiet throughout the entire time he's known you?

modern bsf! daeron who, in good conscience, couldn't let his cousin think that he'd hand over his best friend without further investigation - surely the golden prince knew that he needed to prove himself to the fair maiden

modern bsf! daeron who spied in the corner of his eye the invitiation to the same tennis championship match he and his family were invited to every year without fail, the very same that daeron hated attending because of all the attention that was forced on him

modern bsf! daeron who, if he had to suffer another year of all eyes on him, he'd at least bring someone who'd make it fun

you were coming out of the showers to wash off the sweat from your workout when you got a text from your roommate/best friend/sponsee since second-year, daeron. you checked the screen and were shocked to see the list of missed calls from the lazy dork. it was thursday - he only had the seminar, and you didn't need to pick him up until at least another hour. worry was quick to set into your bones.

was daeron hurt?

did he relapse?

did his dad know? what about his brothers?

you didn't bother drying your hair before you made a mad dash for the lockers to change. the fabric clung to your still wet skin, but all you could think about was the idea that your friend was scared or hurt or gods forbid - dead in some ditch. you burst out of the gym lockers when you called him back.

*ring* *ring* *ring* *click* "oh hey-"

"daeron! oh thank fuck! send me your location, i'm on my way -"

"you're coming with me to the Westerlings championships," dareon interrupted, sounding exhausted - the last few words were spat out like a kid needing to go to the dentist to get a cavity filled. "please..."

you stopped in your tracks, hair still dripping and slowly soaking the back of your cardigan. daeron sounded fine - tired, sure, but definitely not-injured, and most importantly, sober.

relief quickly replaced fear. sober daeron was good, safe, not dead, and... called you twenty times when he was okay and let you think he was dead in a ditch sending a quick 'hey, not dead and drunk' took too much fucking effort.

yea, anger was quick to slap relief the fuck out of you.

daeron cleared his throat, "um, hello-"

"...are you kidding me?" you spat out. "are. you. fucking. KIDDING. me?"

"ah, there she is."

"have you gone batshit mental, daeron?! you called me twenty times! TWENTY. FUCKING. TIMES! what the actual FUCK is wrong with you?"

"well, come now, darling - you already have my med list," daeron chuckled (a chuckle, the pretty-faced prick thought this was fucking funny). "you have a better idea of my ailments than me."

"i am going to beat you with a fucking pineapple, you damn prick. you-" you stopped and pinched the skin just above your nose bridge - breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out - and repeated that twice more. "this could've been a fucking text."

"and miss the chance to hear your siren voice? i could never."

straight to hell. straight to hell, you were gonna send this buffoon.

"...is the vein there?"

cheeky. fucking. bitch

"i'm moving out."

"fine, fine -but first, sit with me next week at the westerlings matches."

"daeron, i'm not interested in attending some fucking tennis match, watching two people hit a ball for hours under the sun for gods know how long-"

"-all the food is complimentary with our seats."

...fucking hells, the lout knew your weaknesses...

"can i wear my flip-flops to this?"

"not if you want everyone to call you a trollop."

you stared up at the ceiling, weighing your options - although, there really wasn't much of a choice in this, and the asshole knew that.

"...your dad's paying for my outfit."

"pick up mine while you're at it!"

modern yearning! valarr who is experiencing a new form of hell every time he looks from his seat and sees you with his cousin - the two of you, sitting together, secret smiles and soft laughter like two lovers exchanging secrets and sweet nothings

"okay, so who's that one in the pink?" "the one looking like a pepto-bismo fever dream? or the one wearing a hat with the giant vagina?" "giant vagina hat." "right, so that's Talla Florent." "ooo, what'd she do?" "not so much as her as her husband - on the right, beer-bellied wrinkly fellow - city watch discovered an underground sex dungeon last month, they found him bound in leather and squealing like a pig." "let me guess, her brother, cousin, or twice-removed-nephew was the one with the whip." "all that - and she watched in the corner."

honestly, it was beyond maddening to have to watch the ardent display

modern yearning! valarr who, despite his early training in propriety and self-discipline, continues to lose more of his sanity and self-control the more he looks at you

by the mother, you looked gorgeous in white. did daeron buy you that dress? were the two of you meant to match? no, if that were the case, you'd show up wearing green - thank gods, not green. fuck, you'd look incredible in blue. the crowd cheers as people outside their box begin to stand. kiera is clapping like mad before proceeding to shake Valarr's shoulder to get his attention, "yes! they got the point!" "huh? what?" valarr's mismatched tore away to watch in confusion as the excitement. "who?" "really, valarr?" kiera couldn't help but roll her eyes at her friend. honestly, this was getting ridiculous. "can you stop being jealous over your cousin for two seconds?" "wha - i am not jealous!" a light pink dusted valarr's cheeks - something he'd later blame the heat for. "i am merely...concerned that daeron might be distracting our guest from the match." "his guest, you mean." "right, yeah - that's what i said."

modern yearning! valarr who, in the corner of his eye, spies you slipping out of your seat and quickly excuses himself to his father before doing the same

modern yearning! valarr who walks out the walkway, sees you make your way into the Rose Pavillion, and follows you - only to be bombarded with a flurry of elderly nanas and mothers who were desperate to introduce him to their daughters, nieces, and granddaughters.

modern yearning! valarr who barely makes his escape, only to find that he's lost you, but just before he begins pulling his hair out of his roots in frustration, he spies your familiar figure sitting all by your lonesome on a secluded bench, head down and staring intentaly at the pink 3DS XL in your hand

modern yearning! valarr who, took a deep breath, straightened his jacket and brushed off any dust off his pants, walked straight towards you with the steadfast determination of finally having a proper conversation with you

modern yearning! valarr who made a mental checklist of topics that were appropriate for the occasion

modern yearning! valarr who, if he played his cards right, could turn the feeble acquaintance between you two into something more substantial - maybe he'd finally get your number!

modern yearning! valarr who swore to himself that he'd get this right - no room for mistakes - and, with any luck, use this as the opportunity he needed to finally settle this overwhelming need to be around and know everything about you

modern yearning! valarr who stood before you, his shadow touching yours as you remained oblivious to the world - still engrossed in your game

modern yearning! valarr who couldn't help but notice the way your eyelashes curled and the shine of your lip gloss and the fullness of your bottom lip and -

- he cleared his throat to stop himself from thinking further, and accidentally broke your concentration in tandem

modern yearning! valarr who now has your full attention, just as he wanted, but with the caveat being that startling you from your game instead of just saying your name like a regular person with normal cognitive functioning was the exact opposite of how he wanted your attention and - oh shit, you were waiting for him to speak, weren't you?

"...hello." "...hey." "..." "..." "..." you held up your 3DS, "wanna play?"

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fuck it all, modern yearning! valarr actually forgot the topic list

a/n: if you actually stayed to read this, wow - bc this got away from me and i genuinely no idea where tf i was going while writing this

dividers: @cursed-carmine - pls go her page! she has the cutest divider and border art!

tagging (lemme know if you wanna join it!): @hyilux, @theoriginalwifeofhanjumin, @iissza, @petraavisco, @li-zayne-wife, @girlisjustagirl, @ravenpuff7879, @nixtape-foryou, @powpowjinxlife, @aurora0-0-0, @wooceanic, @iicarusflew, @rebeccawinters, @thekingswin