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Summary
“Lucas, huh? You already decided on the name?” His mother chuckled, repeating the name for a few times, familiarizing her with it.
“Yes.” Carlos nodded, “I had a discussion with Jannik before, and Lucas is the only boy’s name we both agreed on.”
“Do you have any plans to tell Jannik?” She asked gently, “It’s up to you, of course, but I feel he has the right to know.”
“He cannot know, I cannot tell him, mami,” The anesthetic was still wearing off, so Carlos didn’t dare to shake his head, but the rejection was clear, “not after all this.” -
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"You..." Ron stuttered. "What are you trying to do?"
Zabini didn't say anything, and instead, kissed Ron's lower lip, it was so soft that Ron almost gave in.
"You."
Or: Ron swears it was a mistake. However, when he, Harry, and Hermione leave Hogwarts in search for the horcruxes, he realizes that mistake led to the impossible. And now, how could he fight a war with a baby on the way?
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Macklin Celebrini knew the drill. Being a #1 overall pick meant eyes were always on him, expectations were sky-high, and his life was no longer his own. Presenting as an Alpha was supposed to be the final piece of the puzzle—the strength, the leadership, the control. Instead, it’s all amber-scented chaos and a "grumpy puppy" energy he can’t seem to shake.
Then there’s Connor Bedard.
The league’s untouchable Omega. The boy from North Vancouver with a heart made of ice and a scent so muffled by blockers it shouldn’t be a distraction. But at center ice, with the puck about to drop, the biology Macklin is still fighting to understand screams only one thing.
In a world of high-stakes hockey and rigid dynamics, Macklin is about to learn that some instincts are impossible to outrun. Especially when they smell like vanilla and white tea.
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Aemond watched in horror as Lucerys pressed the tip of his sword to the trembling High Septon’s throat.
This was not the timid boy who once hid behind his mother’s skirts. The man before him was taller, broader, and burning with the wild light of their bloodline.
Targaryen madness, Aemond thought.
When Lucerys spoke, his voice was calm—clear, cold, and utterly certain.
"You will release Prince Aemond from his vows, you will wed him to me.", he smiled, there was nothing gentle about it, "You will do it now."
OR
It has been five years since the war ended—five years since Prince Aemond Targaryen became Septa Aemond.
He thought the rest of his life would pass in silence.
Until the day Lucerys Velaryon came for him.
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Summary
Rhaenyra hated Otto Hightower. Daemon, her uncle, had instilled that hatred in her, and while she couldn't do anything to the wretch, luckily for her, Otto had a daughter.
Or
the enemies (only on Rhaenyra's part) to lovers cliche where Rhaenyra bullied Alicent when they were young and Alicent never did anything to stop it.