Ahsoka Velaryon. Unlike her brothers Jacaerys, Lucaerys, and Joffery. Ahsoka was born with stark white hair that was incredibly thick and coarse, eyes so striking it was said to look at them was like staring at Amethyst, and tinted skin kissed by the sun. Just like her father. Her true father. The realm knows her to be the only trueborn child of Laenor Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen. Mistreated and scrutinized by her mother, who favors her bastard brothers. For she is the daughter of duty and honor while her brothers are the sons love and choice. Young Ahsoka tries so hard to prove she's worthy of her mother's love. To show her that she's not just a duty that she had to perform. She's not a burden that was laid to her breast. She was her daughter. Her only daughter. Her first born. Is Ahsoka strong enough to play the Game of Thrones? Maybe with the help of a certain One-Eye prince. AemondxOC Published before Season 2 Rankings I've received 🥹 #1 hotd #1 Jacaerys #1 Laenor #1 Velaryon #1 AemondxOC #2 Iron Throne #3 got #3 Aemond Targaryen

❝How the most dangerous thing is to love.❝ [ LYONEL BARATHEON x OC ] [ A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS ] [209 AC - 240 AC]

𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 | ᴀ ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴋɪɴɢᴅᴏᴍs ❝𝑺𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓.❞ In which the story of ladies and knights facing the trials and challenges that common folk call life. SEASON 1 M!OC X FEM!OC DAERON TARGARYEN X FEM!OC VALARR TARGARYEN X FEM!OC and some of AERION TAGARYEN X FEM!OC

fem oc x ashtray x Troy

In the glittering year of 1813, as the London Season awakens with promise and peril, Miss Vivene Langston steps into society for the very first time. Beautiful, spirited, and burdened by the weight of her family's expectations, Vivene dreams not of securing the highest title-but of finding a love that could defy the rigid rules of the ton. Yet in the grand ballrooms of Watford, secrets linger like perfume in the air. Whispers of scandal, old rivalries, and dangerous attractions threaten to entangle Vivene in a game far beyond her imagining. Caught between duty and desire, reputation and rebellion, Vivene must decide: will she follow the path set before her... or dare to forge one of her own? A season can make-or ruin-a lady. In Watford, it may do both.

The girl working at the local bakery has a simple life. She just wants her father to come home from the war. But when John Shelby, member of the terrifying local gang, comes into her life, she realises it'll be anything but simple. Slow burn ish. Will be spicy in the future. This is a y/n but you'll be called your surname, 'March'

When a woman named Shayla Evins refuses to Tutor for the Zoldyck children Illumi is sent to kidnap her. She is held as a prisoner inside of the Zoldyck household.

Queen Charlotte did not believe in coincidence. She believed in design. From her throne, she observed the ballroom as a general might survey a battlefield-every movement calculated, every whisper a weapon, every marriage a maneuver. The ton believed themselves clever, believed love and scandal ruled the Season. They were wrong. Power did. That was why she had summoned her niece from across the sea. Princess Amara Charlotte Obeng stood now at the far end of the hall, her presence subtle yet unmistakable, like the hush before a storm. She wore no diamonds yet-only gold worked delicately against her dark skin, an echo of her homeland. Her posture was flawless, her expression serene, but Queen Charlotte knew better. Amara was brilliant. Observant. Dangerous. And across the room stood a man who had no idea his life was about to be dismantled. Anthony Bridgerton, Viscount Bridgerton, pillar of English nobility, champion of duty, enemy of love. Perfect. The Queen's lips curved, ever so slightly. Let the game begin

In the forests outside Forks, there is a woman who walks without fear. Penelope lives by instinct-eating when she's hungry, resting when she's tired, wandering where the trees allow. She does not belong to the world of vampires or wolves, and they do not belong to her. But when she is seen-truly seen-by those who were never meant to notice her, the quiet balance of the forest begins to shift. Some things are gentle. Some things are old. And some things were never meant to be claimed.

She woke in the snow with no memory. No name. No past. Found beside a dead direwolf and adorned in gold no one can identify, Khava becomes the mystery of Winterfell-beautiful, foreign, and utterly alone. But when the game of thrones shatters the family who sheltered her, she makes a desperate vow: protect the Starks. Whatever it costs. She will kneel to monsters She will wear their colors. She will become their obsession. Because blood, old blood sleeps in her vains, fire remembers what the snow tried to bury. First black oc