about me; first time blogger. late teen. 5w4. perfectionist procrastinator. she/her. I write for whomever I like - including Clark Kent, akot7k characters, Patrick Bateman, the boys and gen v characters. i would love to make friends but i struggle with tones, so apologies if I come off as too blunt. Requests are open!
rules and warnings; be respectful and considerate. sometimes I write dark materials, do not read if it disturbs you. and don’t copy my work but you can make fanfics of my universes/readers/oc’s - just tag me or give me a heads up beforehand. I do not tolerate racism, misogyny, or zionism.
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↳ synopsis; you were there as a session musician for Dragonpit - for a track the drummer couldn’t exactly keep up with. then it became three more, with a last-minute one written between the last two sessions by Valarr. The contract extended for another 3 weeks until you happened to be on the whole second half of the album. What do you do when they request another extension to cover for the tour?
↳ chapters;
before I start writing, should it be a rivalry or poly (no incest tho - these are celebrities 🤧)?
↳ I’ll write for both of them and I’ll write them separately, too - one shots, series, drabbles, headcanons, and general thoughts. ───────────────────────────────────
stepsister!reader cleaning up modern!aerion after a fight. Suggestive and blood and biting. Farm AU.
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You hovered over his body as he sat on the wooden rails of the barn. Your eyes followed the blood trickling down from his wounds - the split on his bottom lip, the cut up his cheekbone, and the cuts on each knuckle.
They were fresh. They were always fresh, given no time to heal between each fight he got into.
You came prepared with a cloth in hand. The moment you saw Aerion from the kitchen window, an overwhelming instinct to clean him up urged you to follow him. And you found yourself all alone. Just you and him, now.
“May I…” You hesitantly take a step closer, as if approaching a wild beast. Your hand slowly lifts the cloth to say what you didn’t continue. May I take care of it, take care of you?
He does not say anything - not yes nor no. But he straightens from his hunch and you take that as an invitation. Your free hand takes a hold of his face - carefully, as to not touch the running blood - and gently pulls it towards your direction.
But you weren’t prepared for his darkened, violet gaze to meet yours. You let go of his face like it had burnt you and immediately looked away. Your lashes flutter as you try to regain your composure.
You’ve always been unnerved by your step-brother.
He’s loud and rough with no mercy or consideration for the animals of the farm. His words are always blunt and unforgiving, laced with contempt and sadistic amusement. You can’t handle it. Each conversation with him ended in swelling down tears to cry into your pillow later.
“Quit gaping. Hurry up,” his tone sharp. It whipped your attention to the matter at hand.
You damp and damp and damp across the cuts. You must be feeling what the animals feel, you think. The trembling of your hand, the heat coating your face, the dryness of your mouth.
It’s only when you feel the cold wetness coated around your fingers that you blink - having gone completely wide-eyed.
You stare at your fingers, painted by his blood. You meant to wipe it off but he pulled your hand away with a bruising grip.
“No,” he hissed. His lips tightened into a smirk before parting to take in your bloodied digits. Your body froze over; the fingers in his mouth were the only warmth you felt.
You stared at him like a deer in headlights. Your eyes would flee a few inches from his only to discipline them back; almost like you didn’t want to disappoint him, almost like he had you bewitched by the swirl of his tongue.
It went under and over. A velvet coating that sucked off the blood right off and replaced it with saliva - something still his own.
“Mmm-ahh,” his moan zips through your arm and down to your core. It bounced through the barn and into the head that’s been rendered vacant, becoming the only thing replaying and you fear will be for the weeks to come.
The teeth took their turn to hold your fingers, hooking into the skin with a blunt bite. The pain replaces the pleasure just as the teeth had replaced his soft lips.
You gasp and jerk away - only for the action to result in the further laceration of the skin, “God, Aerion! Wha—,” you panted.
“You t-tore the skin,” you accused, while the other hand applied pressure using the cloth.
That’s when he finally got up. He hovered over you but lowered his head to take a closer look - as if he’s admiring his work, “It’s not that bad. It’ll grow back and heal.” A pause, you can feel the smirk before you hear it. “It’ll leave a pretty scar.”
It was not reassuring at all but he’s already made his way to the house and left you all alone in the cold, empty barn.
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Let me if I missed any tags, spelling errors, or warnings.
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Im writing this for myself and any other writer that wants to write these characters but dialogue or writing ooc is what’s scaring them 🫡
The voices of AKOTSK;
Aerion “Brightflame” Targaryen; although he’s impatient, he takes his time when speaking—especially when he’s bullying and (maybe) bantering with someone. It feels drawn out, like a slow death, with the intensity of someone who wants to catch the exact moment the light leaves your eyes. He’s highly formal, and he understands that formality is a symbol of status, so he weaponizes it. He uses irony and the discomfort of polite language when everyone knows he’s anything but polite. I get this in the way he tells Ser Duncan, “I fear not,” when Duncan only had six fighters. It’s mockery—coming from someone who fully expects to win. So his voice is formal mockery: irony, snobbery, and superiority. His delivery isn’t always slow so much as deliberate and performative—he chooses when to stretch a moment for effect. Even when he’s upset, he maintains that formality. When he’s truly angry, though, he drops parts of it and becomes more blunt and even erratic, letting the cruelty come through more directly.
Ser Duncan; he isn’t as educated, so he’s more blunt—not harsh, but he doesn’t need vocabulary to navigate the delicate social dance of politics or high society. His life couldn’t have been any less delicate. His bluntness comes from honesty—he says what he means and means what he says. That can make him awkward, but never malicious. He uses a lot of contractions like “don’t” and “s’not,” leaning into informal speech (not exaggerated like “y’know,” but more grounded, like “yer know”). His speech feels thickened and gruff. He’s also very insecure, so stammering and hesitation are common—especially when he’s trying to sound more proper around nobles and second-guessing himself as he speaks.
Daeron the drunken; he doesn’t care much for formality. He doesn’t weaponize it like Aerion does, but it’s still ingrained in his vocabulary. He’s witty, though in a dry, almost effortless way—as if it slips out rather than being performed, because he doesn’t put much energy into it. He’s too busy drinking. When drunk, his cadence and wording become more slurred, but it also lowers his filter, letting more uncomfortable or honest thoughts surface. He can be self-deprecating, sarcastic, and bittersweet, especially when speaking about his dreams or his family, with an underlying sense of resignation. He’s often grumpy when hungover—which may as well be all the time—but he’s usually drinking anyway.
Maekar “The Anvil” Targaryen; he doesn’t need a hangover to be grumpy—he lives in a constant state of disappointment, paired with overprotective instincts toward his children. He’s a serious man who takes his duty and the boundaries between royalty and the smallfolk seriously. He’s genuinely competent and well-suited for princely responsibilities. He isn’t classist and cruel like Aerion, but that same rigid sense of order can make him come across as arrogant. While he can slip into informality or harshness, especially when frustrated, his speech is usually more controlled and structured than that suggests—his temper shows more in tone than in careless wording. Being the spare may have led to some acting out or rebellion in his youth—something he never fully shook, even as he grew into an honorable man. He can also be quite snarky, though it’s often dry and edged rather than loose or playful. He’s no-nonsensical.
Baelor “The hammer” Targaryen; he is firm—not cold, but firm. There’s a calmness to his wisdom. He speaks with the level of formality expected of an heir, but never weaponizes it. He treats his knowledge and education as a responsibility, something to be used for justice and applied fairly. Because of his experience in combat and war, he’s strategic and careful with his wording, especially when assessing people or situations (like in his first meeting with Duncan). He doesn’t rely on brute force or jump to conclusions—he prioritizes gathering information and giving others the benefit of the doubt. When he speaks, there’s a sense that he has already considered the matter fully, which gives his words a quiet authority; he can be intimidating, but through clarity and certainty rather than aggression. (Reading this back literally made my heart race…I think I made myself fall in love him).
Valarr Targaryen; he carries himself with the composure expected of someone raised as the son of Baelor Targaryen, and it shows in the way he speaks. He’s formal, but not in a rigid or performative way—it feels natural, something ingrained rather than consciously used. He doesn’t weaponize his politeness like Aerion does, nor does he carry the same weighted deliberation as his father, but there’s a clear sense of discipline and control in his words. His speech is measured, though slightly more direct and youthful— lacking his father’s refinement, but still careful. There’s a quiet confidence to him, not arrogance; he speaks like someone trying to live up to what’s expected of his role. That effort can make him seem a bit stiff at times. Unlike Duncan, his pauses come from consideration, not insecurity—he wants to say the right thing, not just the honest one. He’s not especially witty or sharp; his tone leans sincere and restrained. That said, there are moments where his youth shows through, especially when under pressure, where his control can tighten rather than breaking, making him seem more rigid instead of being emotional. he holds onto the formality rather than dropping it, using it as structure.
this art made me want to kiss aerion's pretty nose.
you'd have to take him off guard, of course. the bright prince would never allow himself to be pulled into such an affectionate display of intimacy. he's far too consumed by pride not to resist against your attempts to soften him into your touches.
but maybe you catch him in the early hours of the morning, his eyelids still closed as slumber fights to keep him despite the first rays of sunlight already seeping through a crack in the thick curtains. his pale brows furrow in annoyance at the brightness draping across his face.
you support your weight on your elbow to lift your upper half, taking a second to register the even breaths that heave his bare chest, and then you're lifting a hand to place your palm against his cheek. only a single, slightly deeper inhale betrays him as aerion pretends to be asleep, and you take the opportunity to bring your other hand to the opposite side of his face, securing it in your palms before you make a quick motion to press your lips to the rosy tip of his nose. maybe you give it a soft nip, too.
a grumble forms from deep in aerion's chest, rising through his sternum and up the column of his throat. his eyes flicker open, violet irises clouded by sleep. he grimaces then, teeth baring in a sneer as his frown deepens in silent disapproval. despite it all, you sense the slight nudge of his jaw against one of your palms, almost as if he's leaning into your touch.
But so real that he just lets you guide him whenever. In my mind he is very good with lond distances (like going town to town) but inside of the towns he gets mega lost so he just let's you guide him like a puppy. Definitely will be clinging to your hand if you let him
Yeees, he is good with long distance because it’s an open road and allows for board movement, whilst the inside of the towns there’s soo many people and they’re like ants to his giant ass (endearing ofc)
he’s very clumsy when it comes to finer movements of his body due to his rapid growth spurt but reader is average size for a woman, which is smaller than him, and with that comes a skill and familiarity of navigation in crowds. He has the force to move through the crowds but it’s her that knows where to move through. so, he lets her guide that force (him)
also also also the way his hand would engulf hers (!!!!)
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Now you're making me think about reader dragging dunk around by the belt like the concept is so peak.
Like we know the man has 0 sense of direction so he needs u to tug on his belt when he's going the wrong direction
mhm mhm. remember the scene of him and the two sex workers, or the scene where Baelor recognises ser arlan of pennytree? Duncan needs someone whose focus sharpens under pressure, not flatters like his.
when they both argue or get into a fuss (it’s just her ragebait mostly), he’s so red in the face and sets his way into the wrong direction so she has to yank him back by his rope.
you might even take advantage of this…Duncan’s insecure and wouldn’t doubt you like he doubts himself. so he wouldn’t even question where you’re taking him, just that he was suppose being going whatever direction/spot you’re pulling him into. It’s always anywhere away from the pry eyes whenever the horny demon possesses you (you focused too much on his hands…).
valarr undoubtedly has a superiority complex over his cousins. He’d side eyed them and act his role as a dutifully princes for all of the adults (a pick me, ser. that’s him) but he’s A PEERVVVET!!! You might think aerion is the worst but no. the worst kind is the one (valarr) that hides behind his (snobby) self-righteousness. to be fair, man is hella repressed and not having sex outside of marriage (if not in secret, hence the perversion, but isn’t allowed to be as indulgent as any man ofc. He prides himself on being a suitable future king and heir).
he does have self control - he must - but he would still feel a bit of envy and resentment towards his cousins only to ultimately direct it into pity and passive aggressive competition
thinking about ser Duncan using the rope around his hips to tie up traveling companion!reader whenever he gets tried and frustrated with her unruly behaviour.
Or
traveling companion!reader pulling Duncan by that rope. her hand being so near his groin and tugging him around like an object is what even makes it possible to move a giant like him; it catches him off guard. he gets so flustered and realises that he likes to be manhandled like he manhandles you.
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context; House Aurelion is the house of the Pegasi. During and in the aftermath of the dance of the dragon, the Pegasi began to vanish and grow unease - some stopped flying and foals began to be born with no wings at all. The house blamed dragons and house Targaryen, citing the chaos and moral decay of their actions during and after the war.
Then, on the birthday of Lady A, a hundred-something-year-old Pegasi finally took flight for a few minutes before dying shortly after landing.
Fast forward 18–20 years: Baelor Targaryen, aware of this house’s views on House Targaryen (though they are careful not to sound too treasonous lol) and wanting to mend that divide, arranges a marriage between Lady A and his son, Valarr. Her father consents because…let’s just say this house is quite flawed and prideful (I’ll get into it in a later post).
Now, for the dilemma:
Choice A: Lady A, who is arranged to marry Valarr, has a younger sister, Lady B, who is fiercely protective of her. This stems from Lady A’s illness—she absorbed the grief of the herd on the day she was born. Because of this, Lady B insists on accompanying her to Dragonstone for Lady A’s and Valarr’s first meeting.
There, Lady B meets Aerion, and it becomes a kind of lust at first sight—something that torments her, as she believes she should hate and blame the Targaryens. (This version is the first draft so it’s all over the place).
Choice B: Lady A and Lady B are the same people (the personality of Lady B, though. I’ll make an introduction to her after the results). She is arranged to marry Valarr but falls in love with Aerion. Same internal conflict but worse because she’s married to valarr. It’s a Valarr x OC x Aerion, rather than two sisters marrying into the same family. Still enemies to…lovers? As for the dynamic between her and valarr, I’m not sure yet.