Pairing: Modern!Prince Valarr Targaryen x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Modern AU/College AU, 2000s rom-com vibes, slow burnish, frenemies-to-lovers, slight academic rivalry, miscommunication, slight angst, each part will have its own warnings, barely any use of y/n, and not edited.
Additional Characters: Aerion, Daeron, Aegon II, Aemond, Baela Targaryen, Jace Velaryon, and Kiera.
Author's Note: I got this idea after watching Bridgerton season 4 and rewatching A Cinderella Story.
Series Overview: You've never given much thought to the royal family since getting into KLU on scholarship. You can't seem to escape the Targaryen name since they're the talk of the campus. You're either hearing about the infamous parties Aerion and Aegon Targaryen throw, or how half the campus is enamored by Jace Velaryon and his cousin Valarr Targaryen. Your hopes for a normal university experience go out the window the moment Valarr Targaryen joins your Dothraki Studies class. What's even more alarming is how he keeps questioning, borderline challenging every answer you give in class. You don't know what his problem is since you've never interacted with him before. Royalty or not, you're not afraid to tell him fuck off each time he makes a passive-aggressive comment towards you in your study group.
The only solace you find, aside from venting to your friend, is an anonymous chat room that KLU created. Ever since freshman year, you've been corresponding with norvos_19, another fellow classmate who goes to KLU. Despite your mutual agreement never to reveal your real names to each other, you two have grown close through instant messaging and email. You feel a little silly for having a crush on someone you've never met, but norvos_19 surprises you when he says he wants to finally meet in person at the KLU's charity gala masquerade ball. Even though every bone in your body wants to go, there's no way you can afford a ticket, and second, it's going to be held at The Red Keep. But then an unlikely person offers to help, and you find yourself at the ball moments away from meeting norvos_19, who ends up being the last person you expected. He's not the Prince Charming you were dreaming of. As midnight hits and you're running away, glad that you didn't take your mask off. Too bad you dropped your phone, and now norvos_19 is determined to find you.
No specific gender. Following along with Stalker Gideon, planting devices into your home to hear you at all times. And finding himself completely lost in you when you indulge in your own pleasure.
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The next sound that cracked through the speaker started to ease him out of sleep. It was now common place for him to be listening 24/7 unless he had to leave for work. When he did leave the sound of your voice and daily goings on it was almost painful. And after 3 days of endless laboratory testings he nearly felt ill from missing you.
He was rewarded now for his patience, as another small sound woke him. His ears pricked always on the alert, eyes darting around his room. Another sound came louder and he sat up fast in shock. If he didn't know better he'd have thought you were moaning.
And you were. It was made obvious by the louder sigh you let out. Instantly his legs were jelly and he let out a choked breath. Swinging them off his bed he struggled to stand up hazy on sleep and now immediately getting flustered by you. Dressed in an under shirt and boxers and one missing sock barely remembering having the time for a proper sleep. The second he stood up ready to approach the speaker on the side table, his cock was already hard.
A deeper breath on your end turned into a small gasp, his fingers clenched into fists as he stared hard down at the box. He didn't have video in your apartment. Somehow stealing glimpses of you felt more special, though now he did regret it. Deeply wishing to see whatever it was you were doing. You were alone, he knew you weren't dating anyone or the type to just let a random man into your special, sacred space.
He was grateful for that, imagining the day he came inside. How eager you'd be, maybe a little frightened of course he was a strange sight to behold. But you'd know he was special. He was yours.
His hand reached out for the speaker stroking alongside it's exterior, another noise coming out. His cock strained urging for you in a way he could not satisfy. So instead he pushed his hips against the side of the box.
And to his delight you finally let out a louder moan. The vibration for only just a moment short shake of the speaker shuddered through his boxers making him let out a long deep heavy breath. Rolling his head back he knew he'd have to remain quiet just so he could hear you.
And you were so good to him. Getting louder and lost in your own pleasure. Gifting him with the sounds of you and the reverb to his aching need. He held both sides of the speaker careful not to press so hard as to muffle the noise, a sudden groan like you didn't have neighbour's caressed the front of his shaft.
Licking his lips he knew soon he'd reach climax, and hoped you would as well. The thoughts of coming into your room now filled him with burning desire. Would you be afraid? Or would you see all of the man he was and yearn for him? Hold out your arms desperate to touch him as much as he wanted to touch you?
One hand released the speaker and went to pull down his boxers. He imagined your hands pulling him out touching him sweetly. His cock rose out heavy and aching with need. Unceremoniously he let himself flop on top of the speaker with a grunt and was instantly greeted by a louder moan. He couldn't help himself as the underside of his cock was greeted by vibration all across it. His hand held fast to the side helping to drive into its surface with more pressure.
Your sound was so heavenly and filled with softness, without even thinking he felt his hips tense and balls clenched against the side of the device. He shot his load along the edge of the speaker and onto the table it rested on, a guttural heavy sound came from him as thick ropes dripped across everything.
He didn't even get to speak or roleplay to himself about you he was so distracted. Chest heaving for a moment he pictured how you'd look covered in him, then instantly realized he might have damaged the speaker. Swearing to himself he pulled off of it regretfully, his spent cock swinging away, fortunately his hand had only slightly bent the side. And his cum had mostly missed the interior.
Your sounds didn't stop though, getting closer to your climax imagining something wonderful. He could practically hear you begging for him to push inside of you. He chuckled still coming from his own high,
"Needy thing."
He muttered already starting to twitch again just from the sound of you. He nodded to himself like he was assuring you, when you were ready for him he'd give himself to you. He'd give everything to you. Leaning down to hear you chase your end he pressed an ear against the box and gave a hazed half kiss to it surface.
Like he was kissing your thigh and helping you reach that place.
"So good for me."
He whispered starting to sink to his knees his face fully against the speaker. And like you could hear his words helping you, you did finally breach the gap and suddenly let out a louder higher noise. His legs grew heavier almost weighing down too much on the creaking speaker as you orgasmed.
"Thats it thats it-"
He cooed with excited delight, picturing your face twisted in ecstasy. It almost made him want to cum again, his cock waking up once more.
"Perfect you're perfect yo-"
His tight grasp finally cracked through the side of the box and with a screech and a think like that the sounds disappeared. Almost losing his balance his stomach dropped only for a moment realizing what he had done.
"Oh-"
He would have sworn to himself if he wasn't still reeling from the sound of your climax. Breathing hard and drooling slightly he shook his head regaining slight composure, speaking out tiredly to the empty silent room
Lando isn’t quite sure how he got here. He’s in the passenger’s seat of Oscar Piastri—Forbes 30 Under 30, Harvard Business, self-made millionaire Oscar Piastri’s—car. He’s a broke college student, he shouldn’t be in a car this expensive. Unless he’s stealing it, that is.
It started somewhere between a talk in Lando's class by Oscar and Lando going up to him at the end of class. He has nothing to lose, he figures, and opens his mouth to start asking about positions at Oscar's company.
Before Lando can say anything, though, Oscar's pulling his backpack onto his shoulder and smiling at him. "I'm headed to my car, if you want to come with," he says politely.
"Thank you, Mr. Piastri," Lando says, but Oscar waves a hand in front of him.
"Just Oscar," he says with a smile. Oscar asks all the usual questions—what year is Lando, how did he end up in graphic design, what are his plans for after he graduates. Lando stumbles a little upon that one but Oscar doesn't seem to notice. He's trying to be as normal as he can, talking with a millionaire who could easily change his life if he plays his cards right. Oscar tells him a bit more about his life, his company, all in an Australian accent that's making Lando's knees go weak.
They go quiet for a moment as they go into a garage, and then Oscar's turning a corner, pointing out a car in a nearby parking stall.
"Well, here it is," he says as they approach the car—a blue 720S, sleek in its design and entirely too expensive for Lando to even be seen in close proximity to.
"Holy shit," Lando mutters, running a finger along the seam of the door. Oscar hits a button and the door slides open, lifting up and raising into the air, smooth and silent. He looks back to Oscar, who has an unreadable expression on his face. Not quite smug, not quiet excited. Something that Lando can't parse. He looks back to the car, bending to see inside. "I don't think I've ever been this close to anything this expensive before."
"Wanna drive?" Oscar asks, and Lando freezes. This is an entirely bad idea, Lando know it, but he can't help himself. Not when Oscar's dangling the keys out in front of him with a smile on his face. So Lando takes the keys and slips into the drivers seat, fingers trailing along the smooth leather of the steering wheel.
It's a bit of a drive to Lando's flat so they chat, Oscar answering Lando's questions as he comes up with them about the company, listening as Lando tells him about his own work in graphic design. He seems impressed, Lando hopes, as he tells him about the work he's done for other companies. He tries not to mention how he's graduating in a semester and doesn't have a job lined up yet. Maybe, if he's lucky, Oscar will be kind enough to use his connections and help him out.
As they get closer to Lando's flat, Oscar goes quiet. Lando tries not to read into it too much, like there's something he's hiding. Oscar just seems like he's in thought. They're pulling into Lando's driveway, though, when Oscar finally speaks again. "I want to offer you an internship," he says simply. Lando tries not to crash the car into a building.
"Oscar, that's—" he starts, but Oscar shushes him.
"We need someone with a fresh perspective on the team. I think you'd be a great fit." He says it so simply, like it's the easiest decision in the world. Lando feels like he's going to have a heart attack.
"I—I don't know how to thank you," Lando says. "I mean, an internship, that's—"
"Don't worry about it," Oscar says. But Lando notices the way his legs spread open, the way his eyes flick down to Lando's lips. And—he doesn't say it out loud, sure, but it may as well be just as obvious. Lando's not dumb, he knows that he isn't just going to get this internship for free, no strings attached. And, well. Lando figures it's not the worst thing someone's done for money. Plus, it's just an internship. Chances are he's never going to see Oscar much again. Not like he's a coworker that he's going to have to look into the eyes of every day and pretend he didn't suck him off in his hypercar. All in all, Lando's made worse decisions.
Lando puts his hand on Oscar's leg, and Oscar glances down at it before looking into Lando's eyes. If he looks really closely, he could swear that Oscar is blushing. But it surely must be a trick of the light. A man like this gets what he wants when he wants it, and Lando is no exception. Though he's still trying wrap his mind around why a guy like Oscar would want him, a broke graphic design student swimming in debt up to his eyebrows. Lando knows he's attractive, but it's not like anyone's breaking the bank for him. Well, maybe not yet.
Lando leans in over the console and from there it's just so easy to kiss Oscar. It's tenative at first, just a press of the lips and nothing more, but Lando pushes further, always testing his luck. It pays off, though, when Oscar's lips part and he kisses Lando harder. His hands go to Lando's shoulders, trailing down until they hook into the belt loops of his jeans and pull.
Lando scrambles over the center console and into Oscar's lap. He hardly notices as Oscar unhooks his fingers to shift the seat backwards. Oscar's half-hard in his jeans and Lando can feel it. He snakes a hand down to palm him through his pants and Oscar groans, his hips bucking into Lando's touch. Lando feels a bit delirious as he nips at Oscar's bottom lip and earns a little choked noise out of him. There's no reason he should be here but he's making Oscar feel good, making himself useful, proving himself that he should get this job.
After a moment Oscar pushes him away and Lando leans back, sitting on Oscar's lap. He looks down at him, takes in Oscar's wide eyes, the way he bites at his bottom lip as Lando continues to work him through his pants. Lando can't help but feel a little proud that he's made Oscar look like this, flushed and desperate before he's even really done anything. He almost feels powerful. But he shouldn't delude himself, not when he remembers why he's really here. He feels like it should put a sour taste in his mouth, but it doesn't, really. All he wants is more.
Oscar's hands go to his own belt, unbuckling it and pulling down his pants and underwear just enough to pull out his dick. Lando immediately wraps his hand around it, feeling its weight in his palm. Oscar stutters for a moment but then takes a deep breath and seems to steel himself, looking Lando dead in the eye and then purposefully looking downwards.
"Get on your knees," he says, an order more than a request. All Lando can do is comply, climbing down into the footwell, blinking owlishly up at Oscar. He takes Oscar's cock in his hand, stroking slowly, and it's not long before Oscar's pulling on Lando's curls and feeding him his cock. Lando exhales out of his nose as he takes the length into his mouth. His throat spasms as he goes further and he almost chokes but eventually bottoms out, his nose in the wiry hairs around Oscar's cock.
Lando gets into a rhythm, sucking Oscar's cock like his life depends on it. In a way, it might. This is his chance for a good career, to get out of debt, to make his parents proud. But even more, he wants Oscar to see him as someone important, someone who can do the job he's set out to do. He lets Oscar pull on his hair and fuck into his mouth, trying his best to breathe out of his nose and not choke. He's desperately hard in his jeans and as much as he wants to touch himself there's no room. He grinds against the seat in front of him as best as he can, fingers digging into the fabric of Oscar's pants, looking up at him with teary eyes.
"Fuck," Oscar groans, his thrusts getting shaky, uneven. "Fuck, look at you," he says. "Such a good boy for me."
Lando can't help but make a sound in his throat at that and watches as a little line appears in between Oscar's eyebrows. His mouth falls open and before Lando can tell what's happening he's being pushed away.
He gets it soon after, though, when Oscar's hand wraps around his cock and strokes desperately, so close to his release. His mouth opens in a silent moan as Lando opens his mouth, and then he's coming in hot, long strokes, all over Lando's face.
Lando gasps as come, warm and salty, lands on his tongue. His cheeks are burning as he ruts half against the seat and half against Oscar's leg. But it's worth it, this weird twist in his stomach as he sees Oscar smile down at him, thumb tracing through the come on Lando's cheekbone.
He expects Oscar to say something meaningful then, something about how good Lando is, but all he says is, "I'll see you on Monday."
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“What did you mean…” Simon said, “When you said you ‘didn’t volunteer for this?’”
Grace breathed through his nose, his lips forming a thin line as he shook his head.
“Grace. What did you mean?”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
When Simon continues to mistreat Grace and Rocky, Grace finally stands up for himself, leading to the two of them realizing they're more alike than they originally thought.
Bloodymary fic #2! This takes place before my last one. Simon gets snippy. Grace throws hands. They have a bonding moment. All that good stuff! how do you promote fics again???
1. Was Rook born in Salle? If not, where were they born?
2. Was Rook raised by their parents? If not, who raised them/where did they grow up?
3. How did Rook end up with the Crows? Did they join willingly? Were they sold to the Crows? How old were they when this happened?
4. How did Rook handle their training? Did they ever try to run away? Did they ever lash out at their trainer(s), or did they try to hide from them? Or were they more likely to try to impress their trainers to escape any potential punishment?
5. When did Rook meet Viago? Was Rook always in the same Crow House as Viago? Did they help him overthrow the Fifth Talon/become the new Fifth Talon?
6. What was Rook’s relationship with Viago like while they were growing up? Does it change over time?
7. For Mage Rooks, when was their magic discovered? Were they trained by the Crows? Were they sent to a Circle for training? How was Rook affected by the Mage Rebellion?
8. For rogue/warrior Rooks, what drew them to their preferred method of fighting? Did they discover it early? Do they like fighting?
9. Does Rook specialise in any type of assassination? Why? Did they choose this, or was it chosen for them? Are they naturally good at it, or do they have to work hard to become skilled at it?
10. When does Rook take their first contract? Does Viago give it to them, or was it the prior Fifth Talon? How do they feel about it? Are they successful/do they complete it?
11. How does Rook end up in Treviso? How do they feel about recently becoming a fully-fledged Crow? What about the Antaam invasion/that specific patrol exactly makes them act without permission? Is this typical of Rook or is this the first time they’ve acted like this?
12. How does Rook feel when they find out they compromised a larger Crow operation against the Antaam? How do they feel about having angered multiple Talons, including Viago? How do they feel about being sent away?
13. Was Varric one of the prisoners Rook saved? If not, how do they meet him? Do they become part of the team to stop Solas right away, or does it take some time for Varric & Harding to fill them in?
14. Does Rook like travelling with Varric & Harding? What do they think of each? What do they think of the mission to stop Solas?
———
For use as writing prompts, as an ask game, etc. Enjoy fleshing out your Rook's origin!
Platonic Yandere D-16 and Bumblebee who takes Bee in the divorce
Hi!!! I like your request, a wonderful TFOne oneshot… Okay so I want to say this first; I really wanna do a baby bee type scenario I hope you won’t mind… or maybe that’s what you want? Anyway I’m done yappin, tysm for the ask and enjoy ^v^
⛓️: When he saw Orion fall in the well of Cybertron, previously shot by his best friend, now turned into his greatest nemesis, Bumblebee, AKA Badassatron or B-127, managed to keep Elita from jumping to his rescue, despite him being smaller than her. She screamed a sparkfelt “NOOO-” and Bee’s audials flinched… he didn’t like too loud noises, and the crowd around wasn’t helping. He saw his best friend, Orion, fall to his death, no more left arm as it was blasted off by D-16…
⛓️: Elita fell on her knees, Bee silently trying to comfort her as he noticed D’s intense scarlet gaze, turning around to Sentinel desperately trying to crawl away, wounded and weak… Bee was overwhelmed, the crowd was cheering way too loudly for D, who was now dealing with Sentinel’s minions effortlessly as his fury took him over
⛓️: Suddenly, D took Sentinel by his back collar, Bee knew what would happen, he wanted to cover his blue optics, he didn’t want to look… but he did… as Sentinel was ripped in half… Bee subconsciously put a servo on his mouth plate in horror, while Elita was starting to not recognize D anymore
⛓️: He gasped when D ripped Sentinel’s t-cog out of his chest, wielding it in the air, making a speech to all high guard members as he started shooting and blasting down everything Sentinel owned… including some innocent cogless miners in the way
⛓️: Elita told Bee to evacuate the city, or at least try getting everyone to safety, even if she knew Bee was still too young to do all this… she couldn’t help but rush at D- wait no… Megatron… He tried to stop her, crying at her that it was suicidal, but instead she ignored the cries of the sparkling… rage also taking over her…
⛓️: Finally when Bee managed to get out of the crowd, he met Megatron’s gaze… it was firing red, crimson sparkles of rage emitting from them as he approached Bee, but Bee was mortified, he stumbled into his pedes and fell on the ground as D-… Megatron crouched to his level…
⛓️: “Come with me Bee… you’ll be safe with me… Sentinel’s gone… you’ll be better with me… under my care… forever” Megatron’s tone was petrifying, his red optics showing desperate possessiveness as he restrained himself from picking up Bee and bring him with the high guard and him… Bee was on the ground, mute from the fear that made his spark almost jump out of his chest…
⛓️: Suddenly, the ground opened from under them, a huge blue blast of energy knocked both of them down… but Bee? He fell unconscious, his processor not able to process anything anymore… he missed the fight of the titans… but what he didn’t know was that when the high guard and him left Iacon for good… Megatron brought something… or more like someone with him…
⛓️: Bee woke up in a room that wasn’t his, or maybe more of a “rusty old place that was falling down” type of room. He felt a painful pang onto his intake pipe… he touched it with a servo snd he saw blue energon on his digits… how was he even alive? He tried to ask himself the question… but trying to use his voice box made him feel intense pain, a pain stronger than Darkwing’s punch, a pain stronger than being left alone in sub level 50… a pain he couldn't even express… At least… not verbally
⛓️: Outside it was dark… smoke was seen outside, fire… then blasts of energy started to be fired in the sky, as if celebrating something… screams and victory howls were heard, which were loud enough to make Bee cover his audials firmly
⛓️: After some time, loud and imposing pedes could be heard walking towards his room, as he tried to get away, he noticed a tight handcuff on the side of the recharging berth he was on… he couldn’t escape… poor young Bee… still a sparkling, forced to live with a future tyrant until maybe, just maybe, Elita and Orion find him… Bee will learn everything that he missed… or maybe he won’t..
— After all, Megatron is known to be more than stubborn at times… he’ll take good care of Bee… as long as he… stays… quiet… —
OMG I AM SO PROUD OF MYSELF FOR THIS ONE!!! Second ever yandere work, GOD this felt so good to write.. anyway @shatteredglass36, I hope you liked it and I hope anybody who stumbled upon this likes it too ^v^
For all of the underclassmen, who do you think is the coolest upperclassman? (I think I already know Baldr's answer)
Today the discussion turned toward the upperclassmen. Everyone disclosed who they like the most. Eraqus and Vor think Vidar is cool, while Urd looks up to Sigrun as an inspiration. Hermod likes Vali, and Baldr said Hoder was his favorite. She is his sister, after all.
When asked, I didn’t have an answer. Neither did Bragi, but he seems to be a bit of an outsider to the group, so it makes sense. That brought me a little comfort.
Despite being here for almost a year, I feel like I don’t truly know anyone, especially the upperclassmen. I’m amicable with my classmates, but not really friends with any of them besides Eraqus. There’s something about Baldr that interests me, though.
He seems to have the same heart-sense ability as me, but I have no idea how to approach him about it. What would I even say, “hey, can you see into people’s hearts as well”? Better to let him bring it up, if he so desires. Although, if we are as similar as I suspect, him being forthcoming about his condition is highly unlikely. Maybe I’ll just slip him a note or something.
Imagine you’re Luxu for a second. Your master/father (figure?) has told you that your role is to watch over the future until you die, pass on the Keyblade he gave to you, and keep tabs on a box. He also told you that you couldn’t interfere with events. Except you’re clearly the wrong person for the job, being as impatient and concerned about others as you are. So what do you do?
Violate the Master’s direct order and body-hop through the ages, learning to imitate—no, to become your current body to such a degree that you start losing your sense of self, just a little. Your personality is made up of bits and pieces you’ve collected over the eons. You brush it off, you would’ve changed over time anyways with new experiences and interactions. That’s what you tell the mess that is “yourself”, anyways.
Your current body was a loner, standoffish. Kept to himself. Perfect target. You’d started possessing the outcasts and abandoned, easier to assume their roles or invent an entirely new persona for them that way. You still had to observe their mannerisms to pass as them, but it wasn’t as much work.
His Your name was Braig, before you had your heart ripped out and the Sigil placed in your anagram. You, as Braig, somehow managed to get into Ansem the Wise’s good graces and became a guard and apprentice. These days they call you Xigbar.
You wouldn’t be able to fulfill your role if you’d actually become a Nobody; that (non)existence defeats the whole purpose of possession. So you waited until the opportune moment to insert your heart back into “your” body.
“Mar” something had a familiar air to him. The youth’s heart was ancient, like yours. You’d gotten a feel for how different hearts shone in the many you had to release from your victims. It had been an age since you felt that special light of a Daybreak Town wielder. Well, there was Ventus, but he didn’t count. Based on what the old coot had told you, it was obvious he was from the Age of Fairytales.
Same with the only lady of the Organization at least until Poppet came along. It was odd that they found Larxene in the same world as Marluxia, but you put the thought aside. No need to focus on such coincidences when your role was nearing its completion. The scapegoat was finally here in the one thought to be the Child of Destiny, and that meant the Keyblade War would happen again. And you would live to see it again, but not before your “death” and subsequent recompletion at the hands of the true Child of Destiny.
The Graveyard was the same as when you’d left it over a decade ago. Of course it was. Why wouldn’t it be? Time does not touch this place.
You told Luxord to find the Box. Not because you’d lost it, that’s just silly! He’d confronted you in Thebes later, immediately calling your bluff. That’s what you get for dealing with a gambler, you thought to yourself. But you took comfort in the hope knowledge that the Box would be safely back in your care by the time or directly after the Keyblade War was over.
Your old companions, in all their colorful, animal-themed glory, coalesced from the dust and wind. They gathered around you. All were exactly as you remembered them in personality and mannerism, from Aced’s insistence he knows what’s going on to Gula’s quiet and pointed observations. It was nice to see everyone again, but you’d changed. Ira pointed out as much: “Is that you, Luxu? You look different.” Looking back on it, if your Master had simply given you all roles which matched your strengths, none of this would’ve happened. But he chose the wrong roles on purpose, you recall with a roiling in your chest, in order to create conflict and allow Darkness to feed on it.
“I hope you like long stories,” you’d said, before explaining everything as concisely as possible. You conveniently left out the Master’s true intentions. They didn’t need to hear that part. When the tale was done, the horror settled on your friends’ faces behind their intricate masks. They hid their identity with them, as you had with your semblances through the years.
“It’s still me, underneath it all,” you’d told Invi. But was that really true anymore?
