kira_donow
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- Tennis RPF (1)
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Years later, Jannik often thought back to the day when he first met Carlos Alcaraz, because perhaps the most interesting thing about it all was that their first meeting wasn't so earth-shattering. Jannik didn't feel like the ground had been pulled out from under his feet, and there weren't even butterflies in his belly. He simply turned around and found the young boy in the corner of the burning red clay court, who he had no idea at the time would change his whole life.
He was a lanky, short boy, with dark brown curls falling from his forehead, clutching in his hand a racket that might have been too heavy for him at the time. He flicked his eyes back and forth, as if he didn't believe where he was at first. For a moment, their eyes met. Carlos smiled broadly and waved boldly at him, as if they were ancient friends, not two strangers whose only thing in common was a racket in their hands. Jannik may or may not have waved at him, but he remembered that he immediately looked down at his shoes, red with clay and did not dare to look at the boy again.
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After a three-month suspension no one names and everyone remembers, Roland-Garros’ most beautiful, exacting star—Jannik Sinner, perfectionist, scholarship boy, already halfway to legend—returns for his final year expecting the same old ghosts (his own, mostly). He has a plan (definitive, fool-proof, double-triple-checked): graduate, dominate, and leave the classical Conservatoire untouched, unchallenged, undeniable.
Unfortunately, someone has let Carlos Alcaraz in—a golden prodigy with a reckless instinct and a disarming smile, a careless habit of breaking structure, and the audacity to argue with Jannik in the margins of his own script.
OR: Jannik believes he must become someone else to be loved. Carlos has never been anything but himself.
[A gothic rom-com in three long acts, featuring: a play, a river, and a thousand almosts.]
Bookmarked by kira_donow
04 Apr 2026
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“This is your fault,” he accuses breathlessly, eyes sharp and determined under snow-white lashes. His fingers draw up the hem of his shift, baring knee, then thigh, then a glimpse of glistening silver-gold between his splayed legs. It’s worthy of song, the discipline it takes Valarr to keep his eyes on Aerion’s face; and there the perfect marble column of his throat gleams with the sweat of exertion, shifts when he lowers his voice to smoldering Valyrian. “For you."
the summerhall brood come to king’s landing for valarr’s betrothal celebrations. aerion has thoughts about the choice of bride.
Bookmarked by kira_donow
13 Mar 2026
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“They will choose for me.”
“Then choose first.”
Aerion Targaryen has no intention of being managed, matched, or made into something smaller than himself, no matter what his designation demands.
But instinct is not so easily denied and Valarr, controlled, deliberate, infuriatingly patient, refuses to take what Aerion cannot yet choose to give.
Between expectation and autonomy, desire and restraint, something begins to take shape. Slowly. Relentlessly.
Or: an A/B/O slow burn about control, consent, and the dangerous pull of being known too well.
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- English
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Bookmarked by kira_donow
02 Mar 2026
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His Deadly Nightshade by jonquille_ (liliies)
Fandoms: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
26 Mar 2026
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Valarr wanted more.
Gods forgive him, he wanted everything.
And then it was over. Aerion pulled away suddenly, breaking the kiss. The loss tore a cry from his throat before he could stop it.
He turned his face aside and drew the sheets up over himself, as though he could hide what had passed between them.
Valarr laughed softly. “No need to act shy now, Aerion,” he said. “You lived as a man for eighteen years, I'm sure you had your fair share of adventure.”
Aerion bit his lower lip. Silence stretched between them.
Then he looked at Valarr again. “It's my first time in a man's arms ...”
The words struck him like wildfire.
His belly burned. His length hardened further, thick and unyielding as marble. The air itself seemed to thicken, heavy with want. Something ancient and feral stirred within him, something older than crowns and laws and names. An animal instinct.
To claim him.
Body and soul.
(Chapter 2, Valarr I)-- Or, in which Aerion messes with dark magic to restore dragons to the world in an attempt to outshine his eternal rival, Valarr—but it backfires, and Valarr becomes a jealous mess.
Bookmarked by kira_donow
28 Feb 2026
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fire and blood by mortrina
Fandoms: A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
27 Feb 2026
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Valarr felt the familiar, cold weight settle in his stomach. Maekar was the Anvil of House Targaryen, a man who rarely asked for help and never for company. There were few reasons his uncle would summon him at such an hour, and only one that involved such palpable panic from a messenger.
“Prince Aerion, my Prince. Lord Maekar... he—he told me to find you,” the boy stammered, confirming the suspicion before Valarr even had to voice it.
Valarr Targaryen had spent his life taming the wildfire of his cousin Aerion, hiding a forbidden devotion behind the gray mask of duty. But when the politics of the realm and the taunt of a hedge knight pushed Aerion to the brink of rebellion, the mask finally imploded. Between the cheers of a tourney and the silence of a royal bedchamber, can two dragons bind forever?
Bookmarked by kira_donow
28 Feb 2026