#oc visenya

[silvermoon424]

My core group of magical girl OCs, drawn by the amazingly talented @kiddysart 💖

🩷Erina

💜Iris

❤️Rhae

💙Luna

💛Flora

🖤Visenya

🤍Daenerys

[diva-calderu]

Visenya Velaryon

Hellfire and Holy Water AU

For @nyrathecruel

[silvermoon424]

Thank you so much!!!

Comisión para @silvermoon424

໒꒰ྀི∩˃ ᵕ ˂∩꒱ྀི১🩷💜💛🩵💙🖤

[liusia-piu]

Visenya II Targaryen (daughter of Rhaenyra) The Dragonfaced Princess

[beatlebvm]

wet dream

summary: after a long night of intense activities, aegon targaryen falls asleep in the arms of his sweet and pretty niece visenya not knowing that in the morning there will be a surprise waiting for him.

pairing: aegon II targaryen x visenya targaryen (rhaenyra's daughter)

word count: ~1.6k

warnings: not proofread, 18+ mdni, language, smut, just filth and little fluff if you squint at the end, oral sex (m receiving), it's con — basically waking him up with head :P. ugly ending :/. ENGLISH ISN'T MY FIRST LANGUAGE!!!

author's note: this might be the last and only thing i'll ever publish in my life since i still have traumas from my wattpad era of 10 years ago lmao. i feel super insecure about this, it sounded nicer in my head but i hope you like it too!

maybe it was a dream.

such a beautiful dream — as the ones you don't want to wake up from, the ones you want to live through until the last second, the last bit. and it was so good.

too good to be true. visenya's mouth was so warm and welcoming, soft and wet just as aegon liked, and her lips moved eagerly and confidently, playing and sucking him off with the only ways she knew. aegon sighed, his hips shifted and he could already feel himself harden in his state of semi-unconsciousness, between wakefulness and a deep slumber.

her sultry gaze was fixed on him, a mischievous smirk lingered on her pretty lips and aegon just wanted to tear it away with an harsh thrust of his hips, wanted to feel her gag around his cock. but visenya just chuckled at his weak attempt to. gods, why was she so warm? why did it feel so real?

aegon shifted again, the dream was starting to get uncomfortable, his cock was rock hard and borderline painful and he couldn't bear it for any longer. plus, a strange stickiness between his legs seemed to grow and the targaryen was pretty sure that he might've spilled on his bed sheets with just that dream. a fucking dream. how embarrassing if someone found out that he wetted his bed at the modest age of twenty?

he shifted again and again, until the maddening image of visenya sucking his cock vanished in a blurry corner of aegon's mind, much to his displeasure. he could've stayed like that forever. but the discomfort and the wetness didn't leave, his cock still hard.

and the sounds too.

wet sound after wet sound, a few soft sighs and aegon was pretty sure that it wasn't just a dream anymore, and when finally sleepiness was slipping away and he was finally back into the real world, his eyes opened — visenya was there.

laying on his bed, her body still bare in all of its glory and naked from the night before when they indulged in their pleasurable and greedy company, her head dipped on to his lap. but she wasn't supposed to be there. not at that time — weak sunlight penetrated the windows of aegon's chambers, shades of orange and yellow sealed the dawn just creeping over king's landing and also aegon's full attention on the girl in front of him.

it wasn't just a dream. a wet dream. visenya was there, her lips really moving on him and the smirk on her face widened as she realized that her uncle finally awakened up. “good morning.”

good fucking morning indeed.

aegon blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes until his vision was clear just to make sure that his sweet niece was really there, and a rush of pleasure crossed through his body when visenya’s tongue teased and pressed on the slit of his dick. she shouldn’t have been there — by dawn visenya should’ve sneaked out of his chambers and gone back to her own to avoid unpleasant encounters within the halls of the red keep, unpleasant questions about her strange presence at such late hours in those corridors, or why the daughter of rhaenyra targaryen was just coming out of prince aegon’s chambers.

“w-what the fuck are you doing here?”, aegon asked, his voice low and raspy from a deep sleep which sent a shiver down visenya’s spine. but despite his harsh words, aegon wasn’t displeased by visenya’s presence, at all.

he wanted so bad to fuck that pretty face, thrust his hips up her mouth and claim her throat just like they both needed to, but aegon’s body was still heavy and stiff from his slumber — his hand found visenya’s silver hair and gripped them in a weak fist, guiding and following the motions of her head down his cock but not forcing her, jut telling her silently to not stop and continue with the superb and lovely job she was doing.

“isn’t that obvious?”, visenya teased, her voice hoarse too but holding that suggestive tone that always characterized her everytime she was in aegon’s company. her hand stroked him gently, not wanting to overwhelm him and leave him without attention as she spoke at the same time.

aegon whined, his fingers tightened around visenya’s wavy strands as he watched her mouth engulf him once again and swallowing him whole in her warmth. fuck, she was so good, too good to him. he was an asshole, and sometimes he felt he was just using her, taking advantage of her need for him — it was so wrong, sharing the bed and getting his cock wet from who aegon considered a bastard hs entire life, even if her hair were silver and her eyes of pale purple, her other features didn’t lie. but he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t pull away, even if visenya was rhaenyra’s daughter. “you shouldn’t be here.”

visenya cocked an eyebrow up, the idea of leaving didn’t even cross her mind when aegon’s protest sounded and came out of his lips more lighthearted than he wanted. he didn’t want for her to stop, she could read well the signs of his body well, no matter how weak they were: the slightest twitch of his hips, the way his hand seemed to push her head down more and more. “do you want me to stop?”

aegon didn’t reply in that moment, a moment of silence followed and only interrupted by the soft sighs and grunts leaving his lips and visenya’s mouth wet sounds. his body reacted once again, his hips weakly buckled up searching for more pleasure — which visenya didn’t give to him, and aegon couldn’t simply take it anymore. he needed her, needed that release. “n-no, fuck—”.

and his sweet niece didn’t need any more words, resuming her motions and giving aegon the good morning she planned to gift him and he was glad to take everything, feeling any resistance leave his body the moment pleasure settled in completely. not that there was some actual resistance. the farce was pathetic as much as aegon’s pretense that it was just sex between him and visenya, that there was no actual feeling growing for his favorite and only niece.

the obscene sounds of visenya’s mouth only grew louder as she doubled her efforts, her cheeks hollowed around him and the sight alone was almost enough to make aegon come on the spot — he couldn’t wait to fill that mouth with his seed, claim it and see her swallow his cum like the greedy and good girl visenya was. he shutted his eyes, and his mind was soon filled with memories of previous night, when visenya rode his cock like her life depended on it and with her pretty tits bouncing everytime their hips met, her moans echoing in the four walls of his chambers.

fuck, it couldn’t be already it… and yet visenya noticed aegon’s body tensing up, his balls tightening up under her warm palm, and she knew that in a matter of seconds and a few other gags around his cock ropes of his cum would paint her throat. and she couldn’t be more ready for it, more eager to taste him and not waste a single drop. “vis, i—”.

and just like visenya predicted, it took aegon a few moments to completely shudder and let the bliss overflow his body and mind, coming and spilling into her welcoming mouth with a single and beautiful moan that made visenya quiver too. aegon seemed to lighten, he buckled his hips up a few times, the tip of his dick kissed the back of visenya’s throat and spurts of his warm cum marked her as his, and he made sure that no drop went to waste. aegon could’ve died right in that moment and he would’ve been the happiest man in the whole world — no better awakening than that one could’ve existed and aegon couldn’t have felt better than in that moment. he was so fucking lucky to have her, he couldn’t believe it.

sadly, to aegon’s displeasure and reluctance the peak didn’t last as much as he desired and the effects of it inevitably subsided but he couldn’t help but groan again as he felt visenya’s thighs straddle his hips and her settle on top of him once again. just like last night. with a satisfied sigh and a greedy lick of her lips, visenya hid her face in the crook of his neck and wrapped her arms around his torso, leaving a few sloppy and lazy kisses on the pale skin of his throat. aegon sighed too, his arms doing the same with her and let himself enjoy the warmth that her sweet embrace brought. he could’ve done that every morning and never got tired of it — fuck anybody’s suspiciousness.

a weary smile creeped on aegon’s lips as he nuzzled his nose against her soft hair, his heart swelling with content as he heard visenya chuckle lightly at his gentle tickle. his fingers caressed her kindly, with a sweetness that rarely characterized aegon and that he never showed in public, but for a reason or another, it felt right to act around visenya like that, almost unconsciously even. he brought his lips to her hair, tilting her head to kiss her forehead, eyelids, nose, cheeks and eventually her lips with chaste but sweet pecks. aegon could briefly taste himself on her soft lips and it almost spurred him on and made his cock to stiffen but he held back, wanting to savour the moment with visenya.

“good morning indeed.”

[wweskywalker]

Summer Commissions: Batch 1 ❤️

1. Daemon Blackfyre commissioned by nevaehh_355

2. Aemon and Jocelyn Valyrian wedding commissioned by mabeylauren

3. Garon and Lanelle (OCs) commissioned by cendrillmons

4. Kate and Yelena in Westeros commissioned by chundrchld

5. Lady Lannister-Hightower (OC) commissioned by velarycn

6. Maegor presenting Dowager Queen Visenya with a heart commissioned by @jaehaeryshater

7. Targaryen-Tyrell princess (OC) commissioned by Sarah

8. Alyssa Targaryen (OC) commissioned by jacaerys_

9. Aerea (OC) commissioned by @moldysims

—- BATCH 2 COMMISSIONS NOW OPEN ‼️

[silvermoon424]

YESSSSS thank you for doing such an amazing job!!! 🖤🖤🖤

PMMM commission for @silvermoon424 of her oc Visenya in her magical girl form! We love a magical girl with a dark side.

[aprilcolours]

blackheart- part four

part one - part two - part three

A/N: warning: there is smut in this chapter!! A lot!! be warned!! s*x ahoy!! p*nsises and whatnot!! I’ve also started doing valyrian translations underneath the line bc there is a lot, and i'm taking liberties w black aly being witchy bc i wanna and its Cool

—

The night was young as they set out across the marshes, their horses galloping through mud and muck. 

Benjicot led the way on a black mare, their dark hair almost disappearing into the night. Just behind him rode Visenya, on a white-gray stallion. He had laughed when she picked it. 

She had changed into her favorite dress: a deep red gown with a scooping neckline, beaded and encrusted in rubies. It was odd to see her finery against the wild landscape. 

They rode North to his keep, their purpose known only to them. Vermithor remained behind, so none were the wiser as they secreted away. 

Raventree Hall was certainly not the largest castle she had ever seen, nowhere near as imposing as her home on Dragonstone. It had, however, a quiet grandeur, a dignity that spoke to ages long past and kings long dead. 

Entering into the central palisade, despite the late hour, servants immediately began rushing about, lighting braziers, making preparations for the liege-lord’s arrival.

“Maester Daris!” Benjicot called up into the hall. 

“So the rumors are true,” a woman’s voice rang out. In a doorway stood a tall thin woman with long dark curling waves of hair. She had a strange look about her, a bird-like turn to her features. 

The archer, Visenya thought, a witch they say. Black Aly, she is called. 

“The rumors of the Riverland’s witches?” Visenya replied, hair loose about her, but face impassive. The woman laughed with a nod, and bowed. Benjicot interceded to introduce, 

“My aunt, Alysanne Blackwood. And this is—”

“A princess who needs no introduction from you,” the strange woman interrupted, stepping into the foyer. “Go find the maester then,” she said, touching her nephew’s arm in reassurance. Benjicot glanced once between the women, before stepping up the stairs to wake the maester. 

“An honor, your highness,” Aly began, a cautious tilt to her words. “Would I be remiss in congratulating the joining of our houses?” 

“You would not, Lady Alysanne,” Visenya responded, her tone polite and unbothered. It was clear the other woman was sizing her up, assessing her, so she did not squirm. 

“The ceremony is to be held here? Now?”

“It is,” she replied simply, daring the elder to question her.

“You will honor our ways then I presume,” Black Aly stated, with a jut of her defiant chin. “A dragon’s maidenhead is a mighty sacrifice to the Old Ones, and I’m sure we will want all the divine favor we can manage for the war ahead.” 

The Riverlander witch spoke quietly, so their words were only theirs, but Visenya did not mistake the steel in her voice. 

My mother will rule these people, whoever their gods. And so she inclined her head in acquiesce. 

-

The ceremony was small, in the yard outdoors beneath the giant dead Weirwood tree: the maester to speak the words, Alysanne to provide a relative’s blessing, and them. 

He passed his family cloak over her shoulders, clasping it at her collarbone. The weight was comforting. 

When the Riverlanders finished their ritual however, Visenya asked for a cup of wine and a dagger. 

She raised the dagger to her lower lip and cut it, as she had seen her mother once do. She took a pull from the goblet of wine and then passed them both to Ben. He wore a slight smile as he mimicked her, slicing his own lower lip and drinking. The Valyrian ceremony was sealed with a kiss. 

Black Aly and the Maester wore twin bewildered expressions, but they witnessed the second ceremony all the same. Then they took their leave, walking back up the cobblestone path to the castle proper.

And they were suddenly, blisteringly, alone. 

Visenya’s eyes were wide in nerves, and something else stirring low and tumultuous in her gut, pupils blown open. She had always been able to maintain some small shred of composure around the subject of Bloody Benjicot Blackwood, but here and now she was stripped bare of all of it. She knew what came next and it frightened and excited her in equal measure. Here she could not be the princess, the commander, the dragon rider. 

Here, in this torchlight, beneath the grasping unknowable branches of the dead Weirwood, she was just a girl. 

She bit her lip nervously, and more blood from the slice beaded through. Benjicot lifted a hand to her face, thumb drawing across her full lower lip and smearing the blood across her chin. 

“What troubles you, wife?” he asked, voice so low it was barely a mutter. His eyes caught a flicker of the torchlight and flashed like a wild animal’s.

“Your gods are strange,” she breathed, trying like always to gain some control of the situation.

“Aye,” he chuckled. “So are yours.” Benjicot’s eyes softened then, the viscous gleam undercut by something else— something she did not dare name. He moved his hand to the back of her neck and palmed it gently. 

“We need not do this here, if you find it displeasing,” he offered, his other hand slipping to her lower back to toy with the laces of her dress. 

She considered it: a warm bed or the cool misty ground around her. 

And she kissed him. 

The cloak fell from her shoulders first. Then the tunic off his chest. Then his fingers tangled in the laces of her dress finally gave way. She may have heard some ripping and though it was her favorite dress, he was suddenly kissing at her neck, and she couldn’t be bothered to care. He licked along her jaw and down to the juncture of the shoulder and bit down, hard. She gasped loudly, breath misting in the night air. He passed over the bite with his tongue to soothe the ache and she shivered. 

Finally, the gown slid away, and Visenya stood nude before him. She wanted badly to cover her breasts but she dared not balk. I am a dragon for gods’ sake, she thought, and so she stood straight backed, silver hair loose and tumbling over one shoulder. 

He slid his hand down her neck and to her breast, peaked against the cold. He fell to his knees, hands sliding down her frame as he went. 

He kneeled for a moment before her, as if he worshiped at her altar. She ran a hand gently through his hair. 

Then he kissed at her navel, at her hip, and finally at her core. 

He licked into her, and this too, he did like a drowning man. She gasped, and breathed, and gasped again at the foreign sensations, so strong and new, as they rocked her body. While he sucked and tongued at her center, one hand crept up to her breasts again. He pinched one nipple, rolling it in his fingers, and it was all suddenly too much—overwhelming. She called out a gasping warning, hands gripped tight against his head, before her climax rang through her like lightning. 

Her spine shot straight, back arched up to the night sky, before she folded to the ground, her head and waist caught in his hands so he could lower her carefully. 

Safely laid against the ground, Visenya caught her breath. It seemed as if the world had shifted and she was now trying to find her way back to it. Blinking her eyes clear, she noticed the Blackwood above her, watching. His eyes were unfathomably dark. 

She glanced down quickly and noticed the straining bulge against his trousers. All feelings of trepidation gone, only bliss and quiet satiety left in their wake, she reached a hand down to pull at his belt. 

“Are you sure my lady,” he breathed, a grin slashing across his flushed cheeks. “More?” 

She aimed for her signature raised brow, though she felt so content she doubted she could manage it. He laughed all the same, kneeling back for a moment to undo his belt. 

He pulled his trousers down and his manhood sprung loose, arced with a curve that looked nigh painful. 

Visenya bit her lip again. Emboldened by the pleasure still quivering through her body, she reached a hand to it and ran a thumb across its beaded tip. It was then his turn to shiver. 

They kissed languidly, unhurried, as he situated himself above her, her legs parting naturally to bracket him. They fit together well, slotting into place with a long pull of tongue against tongue. She tasted herself on him. 

His manhood teased at her entrance, before slowly inching forward with a rock of his hips. She could hear a whining-moaning noise. Distantly, she was aware it was her. In tiny increments he sheathed himself fully, pushed to the hilt. The feeling was momentarily so intense that neither dared move, foreheads resting together. 

She was so full, every pleasured nerve drawn taught in the fullness. It was perfect and also agony. So she whined, kicking her heel at his back for him to move. 

He buried a moan into her neck, and obliged. 

They rocked together, slow at first but quickly building pace. The electricity began to arc up her spine once more and she clenched her thighs in warning. As she came, the reverberations of her body ripped his climax from him as well, in a stuttering, heaving, sort of groan. 

They lay together for a long while, and the blood and seed fed the earth beneath the tree. 

-

They returned to the war camp that night, nearly as the dawn broke, exhausted but happy. He lingered at her tent, hesitant to part. She gave a soft private smile. 

“You may stay. If you like,” she offered. He simply nodded his own small smile back, too content to be the biting grin he usually wore. 

-

After too few hours of rest, Visenya and Benjicot rose and dressed for the council. They traded lazy kisses in the golden light of morning. 

The morning, like always, brought news. 

Caraxes had landed nearby. 

-

Her father stood, posture as familiar and straight backed as her own, at the council table as she approached. His dragon helm was tucked beneath one arm. The other lords eyed him warily, speaking to each other in hushed tones. 

Visenya did not falter, striding into place next to him with her chin held high. Benjicot stood behind her a few paces, defensively guarding her rear flank. 

“Kepa,” she greeted. 

Father. 

Daemon flicked his eyes to hers, they were ringed with dark circles. 

“Olvie ēza arlinnon ziry vestragon,” he rumbled, voice rasping. 

Much has changed it seems. 

Something is different in him, she noticed. Her father carried a weariness he had not before his time at Harrenhal. She inclined her head in a gesture of respect. 

“Eman won ērinnon rȳ se Qelbria,” she proclaimed.

I have won victories across the Riverlands. 

She gestured at the pieces on the board and continued, “Eman gūrogon hāre sombāzmion sīr tolmiot.”

I have taken three castles so far. 

He nodded slightly, and she paused to take a slight breath before she continued, “Eman gūrogon iā valzȳrys hae sȳrī.”

I have taken a husband as well.

[senblvd]

Visenya, daughter of Rhaenyra and Grey Ghost

Commission, please don't use

[tired0artist]

| visenya targaryen |

how about, the dance never happened and visenya although “different” survived her birth?

[ashblooddragons]

My Heart, My Ruin (Prolouge/?)

22 ac Kingslanding

Maegors pov

I could hear my good-sister's screams well into the night. I finally gave up trying to fid sleep once the hour of the owl came, I climbed out of my bed and went to where I knew my brother would be waiting until his wife had given birth to their child. She’s been in labor since yesterday at the hour of the wolf, surely she should have had the babe by now.

When I walked in I saw mother and father standing next to each other whispering as my brother sat in a chair sobbing.

“What’s wrong, she’s been in labor since yesterday, shouldn’t the babe be here?” I ask as I rub the drowsiness from my eyes. 

I watch mother and father look at each other silently having a conversation with only their eyes. Probably deciding if I should know or not. But it is not them who answers but my sniffling brother.

“The babe won’t come, the Maesters think Alyssa’s contractions are too weak.” Aenys sobs out.

“These are just guesses my son, they are giving her a concoction now to strengthen them.” Father says rubbing Aenys back as he sobs into his hands. 

I look at Mother and see a scowl on her face, she never liked how Father treats Aenys compared to me says he “treats him like some infant looking for their Mother’s teat.” and in this moment of watching his brother sob so openly, he wonders if his mother is right.

“What would happen if the concoction doesn’t work?” I ask looking from my brother to my Mother.

“Then we will have to choose who lives, the babe or the Mother.” Mother responds in a cold calculating tone. This only makes Aenys sob more.

“But it will not come to that, we have the greatest Maesters in all of the seven Kingdoms we have nothing to fear.” Father says trying to reassure Aenys again as he glares at Mother.

Mother scoffs and takes a sip of her amber gold wine, she doesn’t like it as much as Dornish red but ever since Rhaenys death she won’t touch anything to do with the Dornish. She often says. “They took my sister with that scorpion arrow, I suppose I am glad they had horrible aim and Meraxes did not perish either. If this, me not drinking their wine is the only way I can show how I hate them, then I will.” 

Mother and Father say Meraxes had seen the arrow coming, she had tried to dive so it wouldn’t his either her or Aunt Rhaenys, but she hadn’t noticed quick enough, and the arrow had split her in two. Meraxes has been inconsolable since her rider’s death, but Father has said he swears he sees her flying above Kingslanding over the last moon, as if looking, searching for something. This is odd as she much prefers the sulfur rocks and salty air of Dragonstone compared to Kingslandings stench and filth. 

I can not blame the dragon though, I do as well, I’d much rather be on our ancestral home instead of this filth-ridden city.

We all flinched, well besides Mother, when we hear a bone-chilling scream from Alyssa, and then it all went quiet. I hear Aenys sob more thinking his wife as perished until we hear the cries that only a healthy babe could make. 

Aenys bolts out of his chair and rushes to his wife, Mother, and Father not far behind them. I sigh in relief knowing I can finally get some much-needed sleep. 

The next morning I go to visit my new niece, when I enter I see my good-sister asleep on the birthing bed with new sheets dorning it so the stench of blood isn’t as pungent in the air. I turn and look at my brother who is smiling down at a bundle in his arms.

Are babes truly that small, Alyssa was huge and the bundle doesn’t even reach the length of my brother's forearm.

I’m cut out of my musing when Aenys looks at me smiling waving me over trying to keep quiet as to not wake his wife or the babe.

“Come meet your niece, Rhaella.” He says as he rests the babe into my arms making sure I hold her right.

When I look down I see her looking up at me with the most gorgeous lavender eyes I’ve ever seen, they take my take my breath away. I shake my head trying to gain my bearings again. 

“She’s so small, is she supposed to be this small?” I ask as I move some of the blanket to see a swarm of silver-white curls atop her little head.

“I had asked the Maesters the same thing, they said it’s normal for the first to be small.” He responds touching the tufts of hair upon her head. 

I nod not taking my eyes off hers, I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. I sit on a plush armchair staring at her, staring at the very being who seems to keep my heart pumping now, the very thing I will always adore and cherish, the one thing, one person I could never hurt. I knew in this moment she would be the very focal point of my heart, but she would also be my very ruin.

Series Masterlist

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the Header for this fic!!! I swear I'd be lost without you Girly!

@sugutoad @ilikefelines @baybaybear1 @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner

[silvermoon424]

Who is your favorite OC and why?

My overall favorite is Erina, the stereotypically shoujo pink heroine. I have such a soft spot for her and she tends to be the one I focus on the most (she's also the main character of the story). She's definitely not the most unique character I've come up with but she's such a comfort character for me!

I also have a soft spot for Luna (the wise, older sister-like blue magical girl) because she's by far my oldest OC. I've had some variation of Luna living in my head since I was 11-12 and she's moved from paracosm to paracosm over the years. She went from being the central character the story focuses on to a still important main character, but I still love her so much.

Honorable mention also goes to Visenya (the mature and intense black magical girl) for being the outlet I vent my frustrations at injustice onto. She's basically a revolutionary who utilizes violence to right wrongs and help people, but is also a reasonable authority figure and a loving older sister.

[visenyaism]

rhaenys and visenya ii would give us evil!clash of kings stannis and renly if there ever was a succession crisis they could actually lay a claim to. in my heart of hearts i know this to be true

honestly i think visenya ii is a lot like her uncledad jaime in this respect where everyone thinks she’s ambitious on account of her inclination towards instability and violence but she doesn’t actually want responsibility. she’s enlisted to help the cause in the inevitable succession war, but is actually just at the bottom of a hole in the Riverlands somewhere 

[silvermoon424]

Thank you once again for doing such a wonderful job with my girls 🩷🩷🩷 I highly recommend commissioning this person, they were so fast and professional!

Comisión para @silvermoon424

໒꒰ྀི∩˃ ᵕ ˂∩꒱ྀི১🩷💜💛🩵💙🖤

[liusia-piu]

with a newborn

[ofhouseusher]

⋆꙳•̩̩͙�� Tis the Season for Drama ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚

pairing: Rhaenys Targaryen x oc

word count: 18.455

summary: holiday au. christmas dinner with the targaryens went great until it didn't (or did it?)

tags: mostly just fluff, a wee bit angsty, a targaryen christmas but make it very lesbian, older woman/younger woman, established relationship, romance, christmas special

a/n: short little feel good christmas fic! better late than never guys. aemma, viserys and luce are alive and happy because i say so. this is modern au of my 'a place for you and me (and our dragons)' fic. also no greens in this au. anyways, merry (very) belated christmas. enjoy <3 continue here on ao3

Visenya Targaryen had never been fond of the holidays. There was something uniquely cruel about a season that wrapped itself in glitter and joy, parading around like it was doing everyone a favor. She could never understand its allure. It was suffocating—a relentless barrage of cheer that only served to remind her of how utterly miserable she was.

Every December, like clockwork, sparkling lights blinked mockingly at her from every street corner, carolers crooned in their off-key desperation, and her inbox flooded with party invitations she didn’t want to attend. Returning home for the holidays was its own kind of torture. She’d walk through the door to find her family in a mid-decorating frenzy, all laughter and tangled string lights, while she stood there like a sullen raincloud.

“Visenya, why don’t you ever bring someone home?” they’d ask as if she didn’t already feel like the human embodiment of an empty chair. Or worse, “Are you still single?” Because nothing says festive like being reminded you’re failing at life according to someone else’s timeline.

And don’t get her started on the romance of the season. Couples skating hand in hand, cozying up by fires, exchanging heartfelt gifts. Every rom-com on Netflix taunted her with happy endings she’d never quite believed in. It wasn’t that she didn’t want love—she did, desperately—but the holidays had a way of turning that longing into a sharp, unbearable ache. 

Her coping mechanisms were predictable: working overtime, ignoring calls, traveling across the world, getting drunk in some après-ski in the Swiss Alps, and binge-watching anything aggressively un-Christmasy. One year, Visenya booked a solo trip to Bali just to avoid the whole charade, only to end up crying into a subpar cocktail as a nearby couple got engaged under twinkling lights. Even paradise wasn’t safe.

For all her efforts, the holidays remained unbearable—a glossy veneer stretched over a hollow core.

That is, until Rhaenys.

She waltzed into Visenya’s life like a wildfire in the dead of winter. Their first holiday after tying the knot was a disaster. Visenya had made it clear she didn’t “do” holidays, while Rhaenys had decided they would celebrate. There had been arguments—heated ones—over everything from decorating the hearth to attending family functions. Rhaenys insisted on tradition; Visenya argued that tradition could go to hell.

Rhaenys, a walking Pinterest board of festive cheer, had declared war on Visenya’s Scrooge-like tendencies. She dragged her to tree-lighting ceremonies, made her wear an ugly sweater, and insisted on decorating cookies together. Visenya resisted every step of the way, muttering curses and pretending she wasn’t enjoying herself.

But Rhaenys had a way of melting Visenya’s defenses without her even realizing it. She’d find herself grumbling as she helped hang garlands or bake bread, swearing under her breath the entire time, only to catch Rhaenys smiling at her in that way that made her stomach twist. The first time they attended a family dinner as a married couple, Visenya sulked in the corner with the toddlers until Rhaenys forced her to dance. She had resisted, of course, but Rhaenys didn’t take no for an answer, of course. By the end of the night, Visenya found herself laughing—actually laughing—as they spun around Aemma’s living room like fools.

Over time, Rhaenys chipped away at her defenses. She didn’t demand Visenya change; she simply made the holidays feel less like a burden and more like… home. For the first time, Visenya found herself looking forward to things—lazy mornings in bed with Rhaenys, sneaking kisses under the mistletoe, and watching terrible holiday movies with the kids while pretending not to cry. She even tolerated Viserys’ annual speech about family and togetherness.

Marrying Rhaenys didn’t just change Visenya’s feelings about the holidays—it obliterated them entirely. And right now, their home was a mess of tangled lights, garlands strewn across the floor, and a half-decorated Christmas tree standing in the middle of the living room.

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