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yaniluvs · 2 months ago

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₊˚｡ ❆ ⌇ 용복 : HERE'S YOUR MOCHA LATTE, WITH A SIDE OF ME ? ── the usual cafe, the usual order. a simple, mocha latte. maybe there's more to your frequent visits, aside the comforting drink. perhaps, a certain blonde behind the counter, who makes your usual with the brightest smile on his face, has something to do with it?

𓍯 barista!felix ʚଓ customerfem!reader ：（ 𝒾 ） 3k ── ༯ ONESHOT, uni au, strangers to friends to lovers, lots of fluff, petnames, comfort, slow paced, idiots in love, corny flirting. ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY . /ᐠ.ꞈ.ᐟ\ྀིྀི

yani's note ˖˙ ᰋ very late lixie day post. so occupied with assigments and life.. ㅠㅠ.. gonna cry, he's so sunshine :(( comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated ! happy late lixie day and happy reading <3

the café had always been a hidden gem—tucked between two towering bookshops and half-covered in ivy that gave it a quiet magic.

and it was here, in this little coffee haven, that two lives started to intertwine in unexpected ways.

y/n had been coming here regularly for weeks now, sliding in most mornings with a soft 'hi' and a slight smile. it was warm but polite, like she didn’t want to disrupt the calm that filled the place.

she’d always order the same thing—a mocha latte with extra foam—and settle into her favorite spot by the window. her table was something of a fortress, surrounded by stacks of books and scattered papers.

she spent hours there, immersed in her work, her gaze often drifting out the window to the trees swaying lazily in the breeze.

but lately, her eyes had been wandering elsewhere.

to the counter, to be exact. or, rather, to someone behind the counter.

felix.

the name tag on his forest green apron spelled it out clearly, though it wasn’t hard to remember. he was the type of person you didn’t easily forget.

with sandy blonde hair spilling out from beneath a slightly-too-big beige beanie and eyes that sparkled with some endless, secretive mischief, he looked like he belonged here—like he was part of the café’s unique charm. his presence was as warm as the lights strung along the walls, like a permanent fixture of the place.

felix had noticed her right away.

to be fair, he noticed everyone, quick with a smile, always ready with a friendly quip, a social butterfly in every sense. but there was something different about this regular—this girl who ordered her mocha latte each morning and tucked herself away by the window.

she seemed like one of those people you saw every day but somehow never really knew. the kind of person you wanted to ask about the story they carried, about what hid behind the small, quiet smile she kept just for herself.

it started out simple enough—a quick glance here, a little smile there, a few “good morning” greetings exchanged over the counter.

the blonde's friends and coworkers had noticed too, occasionally catching him gazing just a beat too long in her direction. they’d nudge him, teasing, and he’d brush it off with a shrug and a grin.

he’d tell himself it was nothing, just a curiosity. but each time she walked in, he found himself a little more drawn in, the pull stronger than he’d ever expected.

the first time they really spoke beyond a “hi” and “thank you” was an accident.

one gray afternoon, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, y/n realized she’d forgotten her prized notebook at home.

she frowned, mildly irritated; she’d planned to spend a few hours working.

felix, who was wiping down tables near her spot, couldn’t help but notice her furrowed brows, cute, he thought.

“you okay there?” he asked, his voice low but friendly, like he was speaking in the library.

she glanced up, surprised.

“oh—uh, yeah. i just… forgot my notebook,” she admitted with a sheepish smile.

he grinned, tucking the cloth he was holding into his apron pocket. “a writer, hm? or a student?”

“both,” she laughed shyly, her cheeks warming as he leaned in just a bit, his eyes meeting hers. “i’m working on a research paper. and i think i left half my sanity in that notebook.”

felix laughed, the sound warm and easy, and it made her smile widen a bit. “research paper? let me guess. something thrilling, like organic chemistry or macroeconomics?”

“close,” she teased. “it’s actually an analysis of cultural symbolism in modern art. you know… riveting stuff.”

“oh, sounds very serious,” he replied, leaning on the back of the chair across from her. “but i think it’d be more riveting if you had some caffeine to go with it. on the house, maybe?”

“oh no, i couldn’t—”

“hey,” he raised a hand, “i insist. for the arts.” his eyes held hers, exaggerating his words with hand actions, a spark of playful sincerity in the gaze.

and so, for the first time, she watched felix bring her a mocha latte from across the counter, carefully placing it in front of her with a grin that seemed almost too charming for a place as quiet as this café.

after that day, things shifted—just slightly, but noticeably.

there were more smiles, more exchanges. she would glance up from her work sometimes, finding the blonde already looking her way, and he’d offer her a quick wink before going back to wiping down tables or taking someone else’s order.

she found herself smiling more than usual, her gaze following him whenever he moved around the café.

one chilly morning, she came in a little later than usual, wrapped up in a thick scarf and shivering slightly from the cool snowy weather outside. her brown hair, partially were sprinkled with sugar-like snowflakes, as she quickly closed the wooden-glass door behind her.

the guy, who’d been leaning against the counter waiting for her, broke into a grin as soon as he saw her.

“oh, a little cold, are we?”

she laughed, cheeks heating as soon as she heard his deep voice. “well, hello to you too, felix.”

he chuckled, unbothered. “sooo, should i take a wild guess at what you’re ordering today?”

“oh, you’re psychic now, too?” she shot back, feigning surprise, raising an eyebrow.

he gasped in mock shock. “you got me. how’d you know?” he tapped his forehead, giving her a mock-serious look. “it’s all in here.”

she laughed, like she always would, watching as he went to make her drink, still playfully speaking as he worked. and as he slid the mocha across the counter toward her, he gave her a look so warm, so familiar, that for a moment, she forgot they were strangers at all.

“you know,” he began, leaning against the counter with a thoughtful expression, “i think i should get to know the mysterious mocha drinker a little better. how else am i supposed to keep nailing your exact order?”

“oh, is that why?” she replied, biting back a smile. “for the sake of the perfect mocha?”

“exactly,” he nodded, eyes twinkling. “only for quality control, of course.”

the two fell into a soft rhythm, like an unspoken dance, each of them taking turns to ask and answer questions, uncovering little pieces of each other’s lives with every passing moment. felix learned she was studying anthropology, that she had a younger brother who’d recently started university, that her favorite book was norwegian wood by haruki murakami.

she learned he was majoring in design, that he loved baking as much as he loved making coffee, and that he could spend hours watching old animated films without getting bored.

just the perfect match, as someone would say.

eventually, the café became more than just a place for her to work; it became a place for her to find something that felt strangely like home.

and felix, the friendly barista with the smile that lit up the whole town, was slowly becoming a part of her morning ritual, someone who made her look forward to the quiet hours by the window just a little bit more.

the next morning, she noticed a little sketch on her coffee cup, a tiny doodle of a smiling sun with the words, 'good luck today!' written underneath.

she looked up, catching felix’s eye, and he smiled, giving her a casual little shrug.

“thought you could use a little good luck,” he explained, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "you know, for the research presentation today."

"you remembered?" she felt her heart skip, surprised by the unexpected sweetness of the gesture. “thank you… really.”

felix gave her a soft smile, one that lingered with unspoken words. “anytime.”

and she left the café soon, after the moment had made her smile a little wider, a warmth blooming in her chest that she couldn’t quite put into words.

and felix, well… watched her, like he always did.

he had never felt so drawn to someone he barely knew. it was strange, exciting, and a little scary, but he couldn’t help the feeling that he wanted to know her more. a lot more.

the same day, the slightly-warmer noon, was where he found the same girl sitting in her usual spot by the window, deeply engrossed in the notes spread across her table, as he entered the café for his shift.

the soft clinking of mugs and murmuring of the café filled the air, a familiar comfort. seemed like a co-worker of his had served her today, or did he?

her eyes shot up to him entering, seeing the bell ring slightly as he closed the door behind him. he was wearing a puffy black jacket, which was now being discarded and hung onto the stand beside the door, while she stared at his figure.

as he turned around, their gazes met. he smiled, as bright as ever, sending her heart straight to a marathon.

"well, hello again," he greeted, walking towards the counter. "how did your presentation go?"

she smiled, "it actually.. went better than i thought it would. thanks to the latte earlier,"

he nodded, "that's good to hear.. seems like my wishes worked, huh?" a chuckle escaped his lips.

"it sure did," she replied with a smile, interrupted a bit as more customers started to enter the café.

felix had already returned behind the counter, called by his co-worker, seungmin.

"you're finally here, oh god," the brunet nudged felix, handing him the tray of the specific order, freshly brewed.

"i thought i would have to end up serving your little love interest her usual, thanks for being late, yeah?" he shot a glare his way, quickly pushing the dumbfounded guy, slightly to leave the kitchen.

"wait up, how long did you keep her waiti-" the elder opened his mouth to protest, only to be greeted by the soft push.

"just go serve her already, will you!"

meanwhile, today, y/n wasn’t as absorbed in her work as she seemed. she’d lift her gaze, watching felix out of the corner of her eye as he moved towards the counter, hoping he’d glance her way.

and soon enough, he did.

felix caught her looking, his lips curling into a little smirk as he walked over. “what, am i that distracting?” he teased, setting her mocha latte down with a flourish. he seemed unusually fidgety, fingers tapping against the cup as if he were holding something back.

y/n laughed, feigning a deep, thoughtful expression. “maybe. you do have a way of stealing the spotlight.”

he snorted, folding his arms and leaning against the counter. “or maybe you’re just looking for excuses to stare at me.”

“bold assumption, felix,” she replied, grinning as she took a sip. her heart did a tiny flip when he didn’t deny it, his gaze soft as he watched her with that lingering smile.

"sorry to keep you waiting with the.. latte. my fellow barista," he glanced back towards the kitchen, eyes meeting the said guy who seemed to enjoy the other two's moment through the small window. "..ran into some inconveniences."

the blonde only communicated with seungmin with his eyes, probably motioning his friend to quit being a stalker to the moment.

soon, the two fell into easy conversation, after serving other customers, his fingers still idly tapping on the counter.

finally, after a moment’s hesitation, he looked down, scratching the back of his neck.

“uh, you know,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter. “i was actually wondering if—well, if you’d maybe like to hang out outside this café sometime. like, more than just a customer and a barista thing?”

y/n blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected question. but her heart picked up speed, warmth spreading across her cheeks as she smiled up at him. “like friends?”

“or like..” he shifted his weight, glancing away for a split second before meeting her eyes with a sheepish grin. “friends.. who, you know, maybe like each other a little?”

her heart was practically racing now. she tried to keep her cool, playfully raising an eyebrow at him. “are you asking me out, lee felix?”

he laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “only if you say yes. i mean, i’m not going to force you or anything. but, i think, it’d be nice to hang out. just us. away from coffee orders and doodles on cups.”

for a moment, she said nothing, just looked at him with a growing smile that seemed to say more than words could. “okay,” she said, her voice soft but clear. “i’d love that.”

the grin that spread across his face was instant, lighting up his eyes with a joy that made her heart do yet another little flip.

later that evening, around six, the blonde took her to a cozy, lesser-known part of town where string lights draped over cobblestone pathways, casting a soft, golden glow across small street stalls.

they wandered through rows of trinkets and vintage books, the air filled with a slight chill and the smell of freshly made pastries.

“this place is like a dream,” y/n murmured, taking it all in as they strolled side by side. “how did you even find it?”

he chuckled, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. “i have my ways. plus, i figured it’d suit you. quiet, a little hidden, full of character, kind of like our café.”

she nudged him with her shoulder, laughing. “are you implying i’m quiet and hidden?”

he feigned innocence. “hey, you’re the one who sneaks into the café all quiet every morning. and as for hidden…” he paused, looking at her with a slight tilt to his head. “i don’t know. sometimes you just look like you’re lost in your own world. it’s kinda cute, really.”

she felt warmth blossom in her chest, her cheeks flushing as she looked down, smiling to herself. “well, maybe i was just looking for a place to escape,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

he nodded, his tone playful yet warm. “lucky for you, i’m an expert at escaping the ordinary. follow me.”

they drifted from the stalls and found themselves near a small fountain tucked away from the main bustle of the market, framed by ivy and stone benches.

he gestured for her to sit beside him, and as she did, she noticed him fidgeting slightly, his leg bouncing in place.

“you okay?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“me?” he shot her a nervous grin. “yeah, totally fine. just, you know, first time actually hanging out. outside the café, without, like, a counter between us.” he laughed, glancing away.

“i don’t usually get nervous around people, but you’re.. different.”

she bit her lip, trying to suppress the smile threatening to break free. “good different?”

“the best kind of different,” he murmured, his voice suddenly quiet and sincere.

for a moment, they just looked at each other, the air between them charged with a soft intimacy that felt new yet somehow familiar.

he hesitantly reached for her hand, his fingers grazing hers in a touch that felt electric, as if every nerve in her body woke up at the contact. as if he was trying to see if it was okay, and did he even know, it was so much more than okay.

they sat there, their fingers intertwined, warmth blooming from their hands into their chests. he was the first to speak, his voice soft but laced with a smile.

“you know, i always thought you were one of those people who seemed like they’d have their whole life figured out. but then, i got to know you a little, and i realized maybe…you’re just like the rest of us. trying to figure things out, one mocha latte at a time.”

she chuckled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “guess you’re not as psychic as you thought. i’m far from having it all figured out.”

“well,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper, “maybe we can figure it out together.”

y/n felt her heart swell, warmth spreading from her chest to her cheeks, as she looked down at their joined hands, smiling softly. “i’d like that.”

they spent the rest of the night walking through the quiet streets, talking about everything and nothing—sharing stories, dreams, memories, and hopes they hadn’t even told their closest friends.

he would lean closer each time she laughed, the sound sending a thrill down his spine that he was sure she could feel.

as they reached the end of the evening, he walked her back to her apartment, the silence between them comfortable yet buzzing with something neither of them could name.

they stopped just outside her building, and he turned to face her, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips. “so.. i had a really nice time tonight.”

“me too,” she whispered, almost breathless, looking up at him as if seeing him in a new light.

they lingered in that moment, their faces close, eyes meeting in a quiet understanding that words couldn’t capture. felix lifted a hand to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.

his voice softened, almost a whisper. “i don’t think i’ll ever look at mocha lattes the same way.”

she laughed, biting her lip as she felt her cheeks warm. “guess that makes two of us, cute, blonde, barista guy.”

he chuckled, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “maybe we should try something different next time. something a little stronger.”

she raised an eyebrow. “stronger? like, coffee?”

“yeah, or…” he hesitated, a teasing smile tugging at his lips, “like feelings?”

she blushed, feeling warmth spread through her chest as she held his gaze. “guess i’ll have to try that sometime.”

with a gentle, lingering smile, he gave her hand one last squeeze. “good night, y/n.”

“good night, lix.”

as he walked away, she stood there, watching him disappear into the street, her heart feeling fuller than it had in a long time.

and for once, she couldn’t wait for the next morning.

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desiresiwant · 2 months ago

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𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐡 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

word count: 5.3k~

warnings: mentions of war, name-calling, vulgar paintings, strong vulgar language, Targaryen/Dornish mixed bastard, mentions of sexual themes, and overall mature setting for mature (18+) audience.

a/n: this is the 5th chapter of my AU HOTD longfic featuring my Black!OC, and the last chapter of this fic that’s posted here. If these previews interested you enough, be sure to check out the masterlist on where to read the rest!!! Hope I’ve gotten your attention by now. If there’s a warning I forgot to add let me know.

<- PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST ->

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗙𝗶𝘃𝗲 | 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗢𝗳 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁

𝑩𝑶𝑹𝑬𝑫𝑶𝑴 𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑰𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑰𝑻𝑺 𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑻𝑯 𝑫𝑨𝒀 𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑲𝑬𝑬𝑷, and Sylvia grew hatred toward her constant studies with Maester Ollins reading massive leather-bound books, thick with extensive history behind the legendary House Targaryen and their ties to Valyria—including hundreds of houses within Westeros and political relations with and against the crown or with each other.

Reciting words never used in her vocabulary would lock Sylvia’s jaw and copying pages upon pages with shitty handwriting and barely any practice back home with her own mother, would tire her wrists out and left her fingers cramped. Her mother was far advanced in both reading and writing, taught later in life after Sylvia’s birth, but her teachings weren’t consistent. She could only practice reading after every written word her mother wrote for her father to one day read given her popular status in the house. Writing was rare and Sylvia hated it.

And once freed of Maester Ollins, left hours in Meya’s care as she taught Sylvia the ways of a proper lady of the court. The study of etiquette involved far more than walking in pretty dresses and keeping one’s mouth clean of cake crumbs. Curtsy when in the company of new peers and those of higher political status. Never address them by name but by title unless given permission or were under Sylvia’s status, such as Meya and many others. Head up, back straight, chest out, arms locked in front, and walk with grace as though she levitated. Not with a boyish posture, as Meya described. She was determined to cleanse the boyish nature from molding her bones. Never say too much. Never say too little. Then would clutter the table with various utensils to use and label.

You must act as though even the Gods are watching you, Meya would say, because being a lady isn’t just a privilege of improvement and betterment, but an example to the people—lower-classed women and the poor who’d do anything to be where you are, and has convinced themselves that if they do what you do, they will one day stare behind your eyes.

Sylvia didn’t think being a lady would be challenging and she was wrong.

She grew delirious and starved of her freedom. She missed home and drunk travellers, and ex-lovers—still friends—laughing over countless fools. She missed her splinter-prone bow and running off to the woods with Yanis to hunt. She missed her loose-fitting clothing and the effortless movement it provided. She missed being outside. Free instead of being cooped up within the same walls for hours.

She thought more freedom came with holding her father’s name, but freedom never tasted sweeter than it did back home. And perhaps, she didn’t know the extent of her freedom in King’s Landing because she was afraid that if she stepped out of line, King Aul would take back his word and ban her from the city.

But enough was enough.

She walked out in the middle of Maester Ollins’ dreadful monologues in need of a break. A walk to clear her mind and explore the majestic castle. And a strange shriek and heaviness in the air that interrupted her lessons many times.

Sight of a massive erotic mural of the same and opposite sex engaging in sexual activities with each other and a dragon came into view. Sylvia cocked her head as she inspected the art. “This is interesting. . ." She said. "And new."

Meya reached her lady’s side and viewed the mural, a light tint in her cheeks almost the same color as her hair. “Very, my lady. These murals of different acts are scattered along the castle walls. You will see them quite often.” She said.

“I assumed they were traditional. Modest."

“It prevails by day but is another story behind the curtains. House Targaryen are quite accustomed to queer customs and often aren’t shameful or demeaning toward expressing sexuality. Much like Dorne though quite different and forced behind closed doors.” Explained Meya, lowering her voice as a few castle staff passed by. “Your father once used to host parties of such acts.”

“Without the dragons, yes?”

Meya laughed at her highly concerned expression. “Of course. So I’ve heard, they were extravagant and would last for days that men would leave their wives to attend and gifted their most prized possession for an invite.”

Sylvia's brow lifted with surprise. Beyond hearing of her father's ruthless personality, it was the first she heard of his life when he lived outside of her mother’s stories. And she wanted to know more. "What more have you heard about my father?" She asked.

“I began my work here after his passing, my lady, so I fear my words aren’t recent or credible.”

“I’d still like to know.”

“I heard he cut the tongue of a man who slandered his house in public as an example for his filthy mouth. Then flaunted his tongue around his neck as a necklace, rotted with flies. Before his marriage to Lady Vana, while courting her, he asked her to give him a name. Any name. The name of any who caused her heart to squeeze with stress whenever they were within her presence, so she did. And on their wedding day, he delivered her uncle’s heart on a silver platter to wipe her heart clean and transfer that stress onto his.” Meya continued. “He always made such a presence that no one dared speak unless spoken to. One might even lose their eyes if they're met. He was quite intimidating and twisted."

“He was a prince. I imagined he’d have to be. If one steps out of line, it's one's job to push them back or others will follow behind." Words taken out of Yanis' mouth filled hers with ease.

They spun to the cheering formed within the training pit around two men fighting. At the center, Prince Viseron pointed his steel sword, taunting his sworn protector always a few steps behind his shadow with half of his wooden shield missing.

Having the best view above, Sylvia leaned against the rail, watching impressively. He was quite skilled and his movements were fast, just as good as Yanis. Maybe even better. Her eyes overlooked his skills and traveled below to the sweat glistening his bare chest and highlighted muscles that were hidden beneath his clothing the first they’d met. Only trousers and boots were worn during the fight, leaving nothing to imagine, but oddly, left her curious to see more while it’s shown.

“And what of him?” Sylvia’s lip tugged between her teeth without her knowledge, studying the prince who once tried to get her naked. He hadn’t tried since then not that she’s had time for him. “What stories you’ve heard?”

“I dare not say anything, my lady. I’d like to keep my head another thirty years.”

“Oh, come on. Your words are safe with me. Who would I tell? My piss pot?” Still quiet, Sylvia rolled her eyes as she reminded, “I wasn’t giving you a choice. I want to know about this prince.”

Meya was hesitant for good reason, but given the vast differences between their status, she had no choice but to obey. “Some believe he was born from the wrong father.”

“Why so?”

“Because he takes after his uncle, Prince Daemon. Their fury burns strong. There are far too many stories to share and talking about him makes me shiver. But one thing is certain, he’s betrothed to Julie Lannister.”

Standing off the side near her attendant was Julie Lannister. Long golden strands with multiple braids hung in loops and intertwined delicately down her back, emerald green eyes fearful of her betrothed’s safety. She was not only quite young—around six-and-ten (16) possibly—but beautiful too. Her black dress with a crimson outline shaped her womanly frame well, some could easily believe she was older than she appeared.

“Such a fragile thing paired with a ruthless prince who doesn’t give a damn whether she lives or not. Tis probably why he's held off the marriage for so long. About—three months I believe. Although war and house relations has preoccupied the prince's time." Meya informed and Sylvia appreciated the information. It did come as a surprise to her. She hadn’t heard a thing about this girl and the Prince didn’t present himself as a man set to marry—if there was a certain way a man should act.

It’s not uncommon for a prince or anyone of higher status to already be betrothed as it was to become her faith too. On the outside, they looked well-suited, but if their wedding had been halted then perhaps something was happening on the inside that no one knew. Answers Sylvia was curious about.

The crowd displayed Prince Viseron’s victory by clapping their hands with glee. Lady Julie rushed to her betrothed with words of praise but he shared his win with his component and sworn protector, Sir John—Sylvia finally remembered when she was tested to name everyone within her house and their titles while walking backward and bumped into him. He apologized first though it was her fault, his voice gruffy and deep. Lady Julie was ignored completely and stood aside as she patiently waited to be included.

As though Sylvia’s presence was felt above, his head lifted and met her stalking gaze. She pulled back from the ledge but it was too late to pretend otherwise and grabbed her dress to dip her knees in a cursty. Like a proper lady who hadn’t been spanked on the palm of her hand with a stick or straightened until her back ached and thighs burned, and all the boyish nature had washed out of her. Most of it.

He’s impressed by her growth, his lips pulling into a half grin with approval. Then dipped his head to greet her.

Sylvia lifted and couldn’t hide the gushing feeling of pride forming in the pit. She’s worked hard perfecting herself that some acknowledgment would be nice. Expected even. She greeted Lady Julie as well when following the Prince’s attention, only she didn’t return the gesture. Her bottom lip turned pink from how hard she chewed, looking at him and then back to her before lending a stiff smile.

Meya touched her lady's arm lightly. "We have spent much time walking these halls I'm afraid Maester Ollins might assume you've abandoned him and your studies. We should return."

The Prince took his leave. Lady Julie followed after.

"That's because I have abandoned my studies," Sylvia admitted. "Maester Ollins is an old fuck who never keeps his eyes on the books—“

Meya gasped. “You must mind your words, my lady. Such foul language is unacceptable for a lady.”

Sylvia ignored her and kept speaking. “He speaks in one note, for a very long time, and isn't patient with me when I'm doing my best. What more does he want from me?”

"We can request another, but you mustn't put off your studies. You made the King a—"

Sylvia walked away from her attendant. She headed in the direction of the Great Room so she could continue her studies and force herself awake whenever Maester Ollins spoke. She knew very well of the promise made with the King and hated when Meya reminded her at every given second.

“There she is!”

Sylvia’s steps halted toward four noble women—judging by their pretty dresses and well-kept hair—rushing in her direction like children at the Sand Festival held every year back in Toland. Silly betting games where men would run bare-footed and nearly naked across the hot sand for three days for life-changing coins and honor, suffering nasty blisters, dehydration, and even death. There were also cake-eating contests. But inside was filled with poisonous sand scorpions, eating until one ultimately died or was saved in enough time. There’d be endless music and hard syrup candies for the children. Joy all around, joy that Sylvia was forced to experience from afar.

Sylvia glanced over her shoulder to pinpoint their attention but there was no one behind them. No one of importance unless they were signaling a passing servant or patrolling guards. But as they neared it was clear she was their pinpoint. A bunch of strangers. Rather close by how they clung to each other.

Meya greeted the noble women and Sylvia followed in pursuit. “My lady, this is—”

“I shall introduce myself,” a blond-headed woman with loose curls down her back and wide sharp eyes dismissed Meya as she stepped forward from the group. She bent her knees into a proper curtsy and lifted herself, her eyes glazing upon Sylvia’s scales with mere interest. “I am Lady Clarice Hayford, Daughter of Lord Benjamin, House Hayford of Crownlands. This is Lady Mercia Rosby, House Rosby of Crownlands. Lady Anya Buckwell, House Buckwell of Crownlands. And Lady Emma Wode, House Wode of Riverlands.” The last house was said in a mumble but had caught on learning briefly of the Riverlands. Of all their houses that were loyal to the crown.

Each lady kneeled into a cursty. And as Sylvia met each woman as they rose, her gaze fell upon Lady Mercia, if she remembered correctly. Golden brown skin, shades darker than sand on its brightest day, with thick brownish red curls too wild to tame but were a looser patterning than the mess on Sylvia’s head—pinned from her narrow face with dangling ornaments, dressed in the colors of the leading house.

Pretty, Sylvia thought to herself, she’s very pretty. They each had their own charm, whatever it was, but Lady Mercia stuck out.

Another, Lady Anya, stepped forward. “We are very pleased to make your acquaintance. We’ve already heard so much about you.” She was very soft-spoken, light and airy like a whistle in the wind. Wide-eyed with ghostly white skin and hair as black as night. It didn’t help that her eyebrows were nearly invisible, so she appeared sickly.

“What have you heard?” Sylvia inquired, wanting to know what had been said about her.

Lady Anya exchanged a look with the other ladies and Sylvia could’ve sworn one had shook their head, as if to refrain her from speaking the truth. Their smiles were wide and bright and clean of evidence when she tried to confirm the gesture. “Just silly chatting. You know how it is in court.” She didn’t. Not one bit of it. “When someone new comes around, everyone is so eager to know everything about them. Few are convinced they’ve known them their whole lives. But with you here, in our circle, I believe we’ll be great friends. The bestest.”

“My God, Anya, we are not that desperate. Be calm.” Said Lady Clarice, tugging the girl back who sent a soft glare.

“It was your idea. You wished to confirm if the King had lost his mind bestowing a b—.”

The woman hissed in a manner that shut Lady Anya up. She lowered her head with a pout and stepped even futher back upon the lady’s gesture.

Then chuckled with nerves, ironing out the creases of her dress that shaped her figure. Her manipulated curls played the illusion that her hair was voluminous, but the knitted hair piece pushing everything back showcased otherwise. “You misheard me. I would never speak ill of anyone or question one’s decision, especially the King’s.” Said through clenched teeth, still smiling.

“Liar.” The girl mumbled loud enough to be heard.

“Your scales,” Lady Mercia blurted and she had Sylvia’s attention almost immediately. “They are real, are they not? I have never seen anything like it before."

Before she could speak up, Lady Emma interrupted her. “Of course, they’re real. Why wouldn’t it not be? She has dragon blood in her veins. Only with their blood is it possible."

It’s said the women from Riverlands were all too ugly to look at and lacked feminine hygiene and beauty, as the writings said. Swamplands and ruins from war. Emma Wode was the only beautiful daughter her mother bore; a head of brunette strands down her back, pepper green eyes, and a curvy figure to look past her flat face. A beautiful girl like her should be seen, an end to vile rumors of their house and Riverland women.

Sylvia stood before Lady Mercia, leaning slightly forward. “Would you like to touch them?” She offered and her eyes brightened with excitement mixed with surprise.

“Could I? Is it not rude?”

“Not if I’m offering.”

Lady Mercia reached out her hand and touched the scales along Sylvia’s cheek. Her touch was hesitant at first before she grew comfortable, gentle as her soft fingers outlined its trail. It was true that no one aside from Yanis and her mother had touched her scales, but there were rare occasions when Sylvia would allow a few selectives to explore her face. In exchange, she could explore them.

She wasn’t expecting the same deal with Lady Mercia. Not yet at least.

“They’re beautiful,” Lady Mercia whispered, shying away from Sylvia’s intensive contact appreciating her beauty at a closer range. She liked the greenish mixture in her brown eyes. Realizing how close they were, she pulled back her hand with an apology.

“Can I touch too? I’m curious.” Lady Anya raised her hand.

“Me as well.” Said Lady Emma.

It wasn’t until Lady Clarice cleared her throat that the rest stopped pestering Sylvia and followed back in line. Clearly, she held reign within the circle, leaving the question of just how powerful her house was. And much of it she didn’t wish to lose to a bastard. “You will have to excuse their excitement. Young new faces are rare to come by. While some lack discipline, they also lack personal space.”

Many didn’t react lightly to being put down for something they couldn’t control. They were all around Sylvia’s age and younger. Full of energy and light. Trying to make the most of their life before they were no longer a girl but a married woman with duties to their husband and house. She didn’t mind their lack of discipline or personal space, or even their constant questioning. She was new to court, to their world. It’s to be expected.

But what she didn’t like was someone putting down others to make themselves look good. “And what do you lack?” Sylvia asked Lady Clarice. “No one is perfect, not even me. I’m curious if you lack discipline too. A mouth that just keeps talking.”

Her mouth twitched and her eyes seemed touched with irritation as she narrowed in on the lady who dared to question her. But then the moment passed, all traces of anger left, and she offered her a stiffened smile.

Her lips parted with an answer prepared, but Sylvia realized she didn’t care and spoke over her with more questions to ask. “What brings you ladies to me? Whatever it is it’ll have to wait another time. My studies call to me and Master Ollins doesn’t seem like a patient man to be kept waiting.” . . .studies she would do anything to get out of with a teacher she was close to hating, but it was her promise to the King. While she prepared herself for marriage, he would provide whatever was necessary so she could learn of the house who’ve stolen her features.

Lady Anya jumped off her feet toward Sylvia, taking her arm to lock tight. It was the kind of strength that felt the girl was scared she’d run off, and she would if given the chance. The action was sudden. “Then we shall walk you to your destination and chat. We know the way. Maester Ollins won’t say a thing with us by your side.”

“Ah. . .okay.” Sylvia managed to say.

Lady Emma occupied the other arm, the other ladies at their side, dragging Sylvia forward as if she were a rag-doll with weak stringy legs, vulnerable to even the mildest of control. Meya remained a few steps behind with no means to interject. She looked content with her lady with others than just her putting up with Sylvia, a break from bending and molding her bones and attitude into a proper lady. Lessons that still needed time to sink into her bones. And apparently, her brain.

Multiple conversations were had and many questions were left unanswered due to lack of time to answer them before the next question was thrown out. It seemed Sylvia was learning more about them than they did about her. She preferred it that way. Her life was nothing of interest compared to highborn ladies who’ve seen more of the world than she had. Their hands were untouched by hash labor, smooth to the eye, their nails long and perfectly round. No scent of piss, puke, and sex lingered from their skin but the sweet aroma of lavender and. . .berries? There was not one strand out of place—thoroughly washed and brushed with limited knots and tangles, carefully curled with overnight remedies and styled to utter perfection. Not even the wind could displace their attendant's hard work.

Even their stories were untouched by the cruelty of the world and filled with mindless pettiness, harmless pranks, and endless fun, surrounded by riches and an arm's length of friends. They were perfect. All of which Sylvia lacked and couldn’t help the jealousy pitting deep in her belly.

A reminder that two worlds stood before them despite their feet walking the same land.

“We remain at court while our fathers and many noble lords have been called to discuss trivial matters that have disarrayed our house and its people.” Said Lady Merica as they directed Sylvia down the wide-set stairs and through the long halls that were endless and beaming from the sun burning through. She had no idea what the subject was but went along with it.

“I came to visit my brother. He’s recently joined the Knighthood. My father thinks it will strengthen his heart and bring forth honor.” Said Lady Anya.

Lady Emma tugged on Sylvia’s arm, pulling her closer from Lady Anya’s previous tactic to have the girl to herself. A constant game that forced Sylvia to break free. It surely didn’t stop them coming back.

“But that isn’t all, is it?” Lady Merica sent a mischief look in her friend’s direction and it was the first her face had color, warming up as she refused to admit her true intentions.

Sylvia was very much lost. “What am I missing?”

“She has eyes for Prince Aelor.” Lady Clarice unveiled and Sylvia scrunched her nose with disgust. She wished she hadn’t asked.

The girl gasped out with shock. “I do not!”

“Do too.” Lady Emma teased. “The biggest crush. He is all you ever talk about. His kind eyes. His long legs. His calming nature. His beautiful hair.”

Kind eyes? Calming nature? What version was she seeing?

She unlocked their arms to cover her ears as she shouted. “I will not hear of this—this slander! And neither will either of you speak another word of my affections—should I have any—or else I’ll scream my lungs bloody and never stop until the sky roof caves in, crushing you whole.”

“Why not save your screaming on your wedding night? You’ve practiced long enough.”

A squeal of giggles bellowed from Lady Mercia as she took off running when Lady Anya chased after her. They laughed at the two using passing servants to block each other’s contact. Lady Mercia seemed like a shy woman at first but she was far from it, at least around her friends. There were occasions when she’d speak less that was practically invisible, and occasions when she’d make herself known and make use of it. A balance of both.

Sylvia certainly didn’t see what Lady Anya saw in the Prince and was convinced the girl got hit in the head by an apple or something heavy. They wouldn’t be House of The Dragon together but House of The Ghost. Uncanny and unsuited.

Finally having Sylvia to herself, Lady Emma tugged her closer and Lady Clarice was quick to fill the empty spot. Their constant attention and closeness made her uncomfortable for reasons that she wasn’t used to. “My father claims it’s to spare our ships and men to prepare for the war up ahead. Only the best shall prevail.” She was back on the conversation of their reasoning for being at court.

“Except we need strong men and strong ships that won’t flood the first wave it's met.” Said Lady Clarice, in a tone that held a known story close to Lady Emma which she ignored.

“But while at court, we accompany the future Queen to strengthen our relations that’ll benefit our future and make our house proud.”

“Future Queen,” muttered Lady Clarice with a sense of mock. “Whenever that will be. It's embarrassing enough having to listen to her delusions and pretend to care. There is only so much advise one can give before it’s time to return home.”

Their shared laughter made known they knew of Lady Julie’s current predicament with Prince Viseron. Neither Sylvia nor Lady Mercia—when returning after the two grew tired and heavy with breath—found the situation humorous. She didn’t know the girl enough to find the joke and feared she’d contract her faith by downing her misfortune.

But Sylvia couldn’t move on from their current topic deciding which games they should indulge in before supper when something Lady Emma had mentioned weighed on her mind. War.

War was nothing new to her. Horrid stories roamed the fires back at Toland from men and former knights drinking away their trauma to any ears that would listen and even she had her first taste of it. But what concerned Sylvia was where this war was taking place and who was the intended enemy. She came to King’s Landing to create a future and safe home for her mother when she came, and couldn’t do any of that if her future was at risk. Based on many blurred lessons of war around the world with Maester Ollins, King’s Landing wasn’t all that invincible given the history of why the wall was built in the first place.

“Will it be here? The war that's to come?” Sylvia asked.

They grew quiet, having silent conversations with their eyes that Sylvia couldn’t understand. But when Lady Clarice was quick to fill the void when answers were sought, it was then she understood why they were hesitant to speak. “The Conquest of Dorne. The battle to last over centuries to come.” She held no filter as she played her fingers through her golden locks, eyeing Sylvia’s expression. She remained calm. “The Martells will never concede. Never to bend the knee to the crown nor compromise their terms to end this shitful fight, ultimately wasting our resources and men. Them vipers aren’t grateful no matter what we do. But enough is enough. Should they refuse us once more, we will come back harder.”

One could not live in Dorne and not know of its conflicts not only within the country but outside of it. Even for someone like Sylvia, who didn’t care to know as it was never her concern nor was she sitting at the table with something to offer. It was strange living on the outside of the world, on the lands of the same enemies that were plotting against her home.

Sylvia didn’t know where to stand.

While her roots were in Dorne, her lineage was far from it. One came with traumatic memories and a life that served no purpose while one was an opportunity in a lifetime, a purpose of many should she choose one. Or perhaps she didn’t have to choose. With her given title, she could pursue anything. There was no limit as far as she knew.

Sylvia would always be proud of her home, grateful of her upbringing, and prideful of her Dornish roots—but wasn’t stupid to risk her life for the damn country or piss off others who were against them. The same one that took everything from her. Her mother included. And it’s people they claimed to care for. Her loyalty never extended beyond that.

“I see,” said Sylvia, uncomfortable with their eyes on her every movement. Probably they were expecting her to curse this country and accuse Lady Clarice of spreading lies to fuel more propaganda.

They soon reached the door that led to the Great Room. Maester Ollins was currently inside because his distinctive voice carried through the cracks.

Lady Anya waved her hand, dismissing the short awkwardness. “Enough of that depressing subject. Let’s leave it to the men. Why don’t you join us for a round of fox and hound after your studies before supper?”

Sylvia never heard of this game before. “I don’t know how to play this game.”

“You never heard of fox and hound?”

“No. Should I? Is it popular here?”

Lady Anya’s jaw dropped as if the girl was learning her first word, and one of the ladies had to remind her that Sylvia was not from around.

“I can teach you. It’s quite easy once you get the hang of it if no one’s adding any last-minute rules.” Lady Mercia offered, and Sylvia would like that very much. “I’ll be the fox for the first round if you like. Just until you grow comfortable.”

“That goes against the rules. Every newcomer must be the fox. Even I had to be for three rounds.” Lady Emma argued.

“Surely we can bend one little rule for our new friend. That which you are—a friend in our circle. A position quite hard to obtain, even Lady Julie scrambles for our companionship that we offer you at no obligation.” Lady Clarice scooped Sylvia’s arm, walking closer toward the door and leaving the rest of them behind. Only Meya joined a few steps behind. “I hope you make up your mind soon and join us for a round or two, milady. It is a fun game to know more of each other and I can show you great hiding spots. As my father says, it’s good to have friends in every corner of the world each with something to offer.”

Her sharp eyes and naturally arched brows made her appear as though she was constantly plotting. But while her aura was mean-spirited, she didn’t look like one with much motive other than hoarding friends under her belt within her control.

Sylvia never had friends outside of the pleasure house or around her age, especially highborn ladies of such status—a status they shared. Making a variety of friends could serve her well in the future. She wasn’t sure what it could be or when, but knew it was in her best interest to join their inner circle. Be their friend. Accept their companionship and maintain good relations. And play a few rounds of fox and hound.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

If you like what you read and wish to read more of this fic, you can read HERE

#black!oc #black fem reader #house of the dragon #hotd fanfiction #hotd #hotd x oc #black reader #ao3 writer #wattpad #black!reader #fanfic #ao3 #hotd fanfic #hotd au #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #house targaryen #ao3 author #oc centric

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foxys-fantasy-tales · 10 months ago

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OC Kiss Week Day Two - Rain

I'm going to do eight days instead of seven because I want one kiss for EVERY ship in Arigale! This is going to be tough lol. Also, these are canon events and will likely be slotted into the books to come in various places whether that be as flashbacks or present day events, so you have been warned. So excited to take part in @ockissweek again! Word Count: 2.4k Characters: Skye and Aldric TW: Some mentions to kidnapping and torture but no shown scenes.

Skye stumbled back from the unexpected shove. He yelped as he fell onto his tail and drew it out from under him with his hand. From the creaky inn flooring all he could see was the ignited, disgusted weight in Rahat’s countenance staring back down. “Him? Of all people, you knew he was watching us from afar and you chose to keep quiet? In case your mind has faltered, that man nearly ruined my legs. He tortured you and Ri after kidnapping. He serves Yani!”

“You think I don’t know all that? I was the one there,” Skye argued. He pushed himself back to his feet and leaned on the door with his hand on the knob. The two stared at one another, one boiling and clenching his fists, as Skye’s tail swished to let out his bit of agitation. “And I’ve explained, ever since we came back, that Aldric did what he felt he could for us. We might have starved without him sneaking us food he made. He tried to help Rita’s anxiety when he did as he was ordered. Most wouldn’t. Fuck, her old healers hardly cared for that. He saved my life by making a convenient excuse when Yani wanted me gone. They didn’t need me. He made a reason.” “He made Yani stronger is what he did. You saw him with us that day. What? Some down in the dumps old corpse shows up and your caring instincts go wild?” Rahat asked. “All I’m saying is we’ve already seen worse people make comebacks. There’s a clear intent, but he’s hesitant, and for a good reason with what happened to him. Like how you’re hesitant with Toshi.”

“Don’t get me started. I’m not happy having him about, considering how he inadvertently made me what I am now, but this is different even from that. He’s alive because of Yani. He’s connected. Letting him close could get us all killed!” “Look, I didn’t mean for him to-” Skye began, but Rahat growled and slammed a fist over his head. Crackling wood made Skye’s ears pin as he froze.

“Get. Out.”

“Rahat, I’m sorry if I worried you, but trust me on this. Please.”

Skye’s big brown eyes did nothing to assuage the fury on display. He found he couldn’t blame his friend, so tail tucked, Skye twisted the knob and slammed the door behind him. While racing down the halls toward fresh air outside, he paused and looked at his and Mille’s room. Rita was in there. He wished she’d have stuck up for him, but she’d been so dazed in their captivity that he doubted she could say much, even if she were willing to stand up to her lover on the matter of her torturer. Good gods. He did sound like he lost it. Skye grit his teeth and pushed on out the wide double doors and into the pouring rain. Not ideal weather, but the cold and wet felt deserved after upsetting his closest friends. The others were all concerned as well about the correspondence, yet Rita and Rahat were closest to the matter. She once trusted him to look after Blue way back when. It felt like a lifetime, not a matter of years. The distance in her eyes as Rahat told her what he found was a sharper strike than the former’s hit.

“You’ll catch your death.”

“Aldric?” Skye turned toward the source of the voice. The reflection of his blazing red eyes was magnified by the thick spectacles he wore, so the man wasn’t hard to find in the dark. The tree he was under had thick enough branches, even if leaves were few, to hinder the rain a little. Skye rushed over and started to squeeze at his long braid and tail as he shivered.

“Just a refreshing jaunt. What are you still doing out here? I thought you fled.”

“I needed to make sure my informant was well first. What matters is you all think I fled.”

“Don’t call me that,” Skye urged. His eyes narrowed as he craned his head up from his stooped pose to meet the man’s eyes. He crossed his arms to hold in some of his warmth, though the chill and air were helping to clear up some of his hurt, at least the ones on the inside.

“Very well. What would you have me call our arrangement then?” Aldric asked.

That gave Skye pause. He’d like to say friends, but Aldric had laughed that off before, or what passed as laughter. The stern downturn of his scarred lips made Skye press his own together in a firm line and straighten his back. Thunder and lightning cracked overhead and ruffled his damp fur.

“Acquaintance? I don’t know. That seems a bit too little for what all happened. Plus, Rita and I saw you daily for months. Hardly an acquaintance then, but maybe you’d reconsider friend?” Shit. He said it anyway. Skye smoothed back the short, cropped layers of hair surrounding his face. The drips of cold rain carried down his cheeks and chin, with more falling through the gaps in the tree above than he liked. The sound reminded him of the awful state of the cell he’d shared for so long. The steady drip of leaking was constant, so much so he’d begun to time his songs to it to kill time. It was only when he began to hum one of the tunes that he realized Aldric had been silent and cocked an ear toward him as he leaned it up to his lips to listen.

“How about mutual aid?” Aldric asked.

“What?” Skye laughed and held his ribs in place. “Quite a title, and may I ask what aid you’ve offered recently? I’ve supplied you with lots of reasons to try and save this plane, or at least not continue seeking its end with that pompous prick of a boss you have.” “Which could also cost my life.” Skye wilted. He didn’t need that reminder. His throat ran dry, but thankfully all he had to do was tip his head back to drink some of the rainwater. He made a show of it, tongue out to catch as much as he could and leaning to where the drops fell thickest. Aldric just shook his head as Skye swallowed a big gulp. The cheeky grin Skye added in only deepened Aldric’s scowl. “You’re truly trying to reach an untimely death. These trees are often diseased. Parasites and who knows what they water could drag along.” “Good thing I know an amazing healer then, one who owes me mutual aid.”

“Why do you insist on still using that title?” Aldric asked.

“Why do you refuse to use the simple word ‘friend’?” Aldric scoffed and declined to answer. Skye looked back to the inn, the only one around for miles, and heaved a sigh. The shutters were all down. No light shined but from a couple of windows, one of which just blew out a flickering candle.

“Looks like I’m a homeless cat myself for the night. Funny turn of events, huh? You have a spot you’re staying.”

“Not welcome.”

Being shot down so thoroughly stung, but Skye was nothing if not stubborn as the rest of the people Judith had brought together here. “Then can you spare a bit of coin for me to get my own room?” “Ah, so this walk you mentioned was under more duress than you let on. Hardly surprising.”

“Well, you were hanging about to check on me! You couldn’t go inside, so what, wait until the morning when we go?” He shuddered and blew a wet piece of hair, but it remained firmly stuck over his cheek.

“Yes.”

“What? Why? My information is hardly anything special you know, and my whole defense of friendship and love looks a bit flat right now.”

“I wasn’t going to tread there unless you did. Since we are on the same path, why?” Aldric asked. He removed his glasses. A silver cloth was drawn from his pants pocket to wipe the lenses, but the chill and worsening rain made them rather useless regardless. With a groan of discontent, he placed them in a case and into his coat pocket.

Skye felt his throat tighten as he watched. His eyes should have been a terror, but all he saw was sympathy buried within the blood red tones. His face went slack a moment. Perhaps the others had a point. For some reason, he felt a bit too close to all this, to Aldric in particular. He rubbed at his neck and smacked his lips. He cleared his throat. He pulled a number of stalling measures while fussing with his tail and clothes.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Aldric said.

Skye groaned and sucked on his teeth. His tail flipped about behind him the second he let it go and rain drenched it all over again. No helping it. He closed his eyes to the eerie, entrancing light of Aldric’s and leaned on the tree trunk with his legs crossed and hands clenched in his pockets. “I understand you,” Skye whispered. His voice was nearly drowned out by the rain, but Aldric leaned in and nodded.

“Really? I have some trouble believing that.” “It’s true. You can stand out here worried in the rain about someone you hurt, someone you really hardly know, all because of something you want. Information, right? No, Aldric. You want hope. I’m good at giving it. It’s why I ran the shelter. It’s why I sing. It’s why I agreed to your deal. I see the same in you I saw in all those who made bad choices and ended up in my care. Rahat’s right that I can’t help but get involved with those in need, even the worse ones, even someone who nearly killed my friends.” He scoffed and lifted his eyes to look at Aldric’s again. Nose to nose, Skye found his ears flipping about in time with his stomach.

Aldric didn’t seem to change a bit. He was steel. His hair fell flat and damp, sticking to him far worse than Skye’s short hair. The man’s face was running rivulets down off his chin from the storm. Something about it all made him look more normal. Aldric was always so put together and professional, scarily so. He followed orders and worked himself to the bone. He couldn’t feel pain much at all and it showed in how he fought with grotesque brutality.

Yet he had been a healer before it all went up in flames. He was an expert in damaging his opponents right where it would hurt, but he’d not killed anyone yet to Skye’s knowledge. Quite a feat for the position he found himself in. Aldric waited patiently for more, though Skye was finding it difficult to dislodge the words as his heart began to feel like it filled his chest and throat. “I still harmed them terribly. Mentally, Rita may not make a full recovery from that trauma. Physically, Rahat is lucky to still have most of the use of his legs. There was a high chance it wouldn’t end that way, but I seem to underestimate you Indimal’s healing prowess. Your bodies are stronger than those I once treated,” Aldric prompted. “You could have easily finished the job with the shape you had him in. Showing mercy is more than most victors do at times like this. I still think you’re more healer than violent lackey. You just want something to believe in. Your people killed you mercilessly for saving someone in a way they didn’t approve of. I can’t imagine I’d be different from you if I’d been done like that for running my shelter. We both want to end the pain. Once upon a time I lost someone and I… I considered your way then. Burn it all. Let them beg and close my eyes as it all went to black around me, yet I didn’t. We both picked a different road, but you could turn back. Others have. Chit and Toshi both escaped Yani.”

“They had lives they could still salvage. Chit was unmarked. Toshi was still in possession of a beating heart once those two finished with him. I don’t possess that luxury.”

“Really?” Skye pressed his hand on Aldric’s chest and the stiff clothing gave way to the large indent and scarred ridges he’d seen once before. His breath caught and halted in his chest. Eyes remained focused on keeping contact with Aldric’s, though the latter began to pull away with a look of discomfort.

“I should leave. You should find a dry spot even if the rooms are currently out of reach. Perhaps the stable.”

“Hey, wait,” Skye pleaded.

He couldn’t be sure what overcame him. Maybe the disapproval of his friends had him in a tough spot too. Maybe Aldric was oddly cold and he wanted to share a bit of warmth, though he knew he wouldn’t get sick. Probably wouldn’t feel a bit of discomfort with Yani’s power flowing through him, yet Skye hoped he felt this.

His eyes closed the moment their lips touched. Aldric inhaled sharply, but static ran down Skye’s tail, so he pressed in a little more. The uneven texture from Aldric’s scar cut across both lips, and Skye found it incredibly personal suddenly. His hands reached for the buttons on Aldric’s top. One popped and he smiled through the kiss. Maybe he could show the same affection for his other scars. The second button popped and Aldric withdrew from the kiss with a similar sound. He was out of breath with the rain pouring into his gaping mouth as he shoved his long silver hair back from his face and turned to the sky.

Skye grabbed him by the jacket and the deep maroon leather crinkled under his tight grip. He noticed how hard he was breathing by the fog in front of his face at the same time those red lights of Aldric’s eyes turned back to him.

“I-I wanted to uh, to…” What had he wanted? His ears fell flat as he struggled to comprehend what he just did. “We’re both um… You shouldn’t have to feel alone making your choice. I’d have made a much worse one if I hadn’t had others for perspective. I’ll keep providing that for you, but no more intimate details. No lies to my friends, if they’ll have me back.”

Aldric’s face was more lined and strained than Skye had ever expected to see it. The steel was warping, if only slightly. He snapped back to straight posture and nodded, but Skye could see him biting his lips as he turned away and walked into the vast emptiness of the landscape. Tagging: @jezifster, @fracturedfable, and @wynters-writings If you would like to be added please fill this out: FORM LINK

#oc kiss week #ockiss24 #writeblr #arigale #indie author #tw kidnapping mention #tw torture mention

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askyaniasogames · 1 year ago

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Our first post!!

Hello and welcome to our ask blog!! We're Grace Asop and Rocio Yani here, together we're the founders of Yaniaso Games, the creators of the Lacey games!! As videogame lovers, we wanted to create a safe space for kids to play <3

Feel free to ask us anything!! Wether it's abt Lacey or us!!

(Me, Grace is on the left, Rocio is on the right)

[Out of roleplay: Ok so, mostly all the art in here is gonna be made by me. My main account is https://yukiimufinz.tumblr.com/ :3 Most of this is gonna be based on theories I have and headcanons abt these two sillies. That's it :3 OH and this obviously takes place before Rocio fucking dissapeared into thin air]

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dragonsruby · 1 year ago

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I don't know which decision by the Aladdin writers was more baffling:

-To establish that Fasir, one of the most powerful and mysterious characters, and Fashoom, a forgettable monster of the week who dies almost immediately, are brothers.

-or the fact that this is only mentoined in passing once and their relationship is never brought up again.

Fasir is an ex-lover to Mirage! Mirage! And they mention that in one episode and then never again!

I'd forgotten about it, but apparently Fashoom appears in a story that Genie tells Kaveed and Yani in Caught By The Tale, and one more time as a threat created by Genie's sickness in Sneeze the Day. So Fashoom was apparently memorable enough to the creators to keep bringing him back in cameos, but not enough to give him any more of a character than what we learned from Fasir.

#aladdin the series #fasir #fashoom #disney #aladdin mirage

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acid-gramma · 1 year ago

Note

sevgilikten önce arkadaşlık önemli dedin hiç baştan manita gözüyle baktığın biri olmadı mı yani tüm ilişkilerin friends to lovers şeklinde mi gelişti

ya evet ben romantik olarak gozume insan kestirip benim olsun kafasinda biri olmadim hic zaten, direkt flortle baslamaz iliskilerim bana direkt flortle gelene de ters yapiyorum hayirdir tanisiyo muyuz cunku yani

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dollygothic · 1 year ago

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Creator of yani : @starswirlfoxgames

Sleepover yani x Maria

Yandere x yandere

See Maria drawing wanna making own oc since yani is video game code and she wanna her character in there as support lover she is.

#Minevn #Yanderexyandere #ocartist #yandere

#yandere oc #yandere #minegamevn #art #minevn #ocs

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medinainternational · 10 months ago

Audio

(Motif-Radio) REGGAE PON TOP # 9 2024 TRACK LISTING:

SINGLES: BARRINGTON LEVY- PRISON OVAL DUB KAZAYAH- READY FI DI ROAD EESAH- BEHOLD THE CONQUERING LION ZION HEAD & MACKA B- PRAISE TO JAH MOSIAH- BLACK LIVITY KABAKA PYRAMID- START MY DAY HEZRON- NATURAL WOMAN JAH LIL- ABOVE WATER EXCO LEVI- STRIVE WITH ME EXCO LEVI- WHITE SQUALL L.A.B.- CASSANOVA DA FLAME- PHYLLIS DILLION TRIBUTE

RIDDIMS: NATURAL VIBES RIDDIM MEDINA DUBPLATES FIGHT AGAIN RIDDIM

DANCEHALL: ROSHAWNY BAD G & GOVANA- DEH SUH CAPLETON & AFAZ- NATURAL CAN'T STOP MAESTRO DON FT. D-YANI- TEASE MOSIAH- EQUALITY AWESOME SAUCE RIDDIM PURE POWER & STYLO G- N.H.S. NUH REGULAR RIDDIM CHRONIC LAW- ONE DAY EYE GEN- ROCKAWAY

ROOTS/DUBWISE/LOVERS ROCK: EXCO LEVI- ONE LIFE DUKE OF ROOTS- CROSS THE RUBICON PROTOJE- LEGEND LEGEND GINJAH- BETTER WAY MR. EASY & VAZASHA PETERS- SUFFERING EESAH- PUSH ON SKYGRASS & MYKAL ROSE- SENSI DONOVAN KINGJAY- SEE AND BLIND PERFECT GIDDIMANI- SAVE JAH CHILDREN KEN BOOTH- GREEN GROW THE RASHES O! MURDER DEM RIDDIM DENNIS BROWN- LIFE GOES IN CIRCLES

#SoundCloud #music #Motif-Radio #Dancehall #LOVERS ROCK #ROOTS REGGAE #FADDA MEDINA

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maaarine · 2 years ago

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Bibliography: books posted on this blog in 2023

Mariana ALESSANDRI (2023): Night Vision: Seeing Ourselves Through Dark Moods

Pierre BOURDIEU (1998): Masculine Domination

Michael CUNNINGHAM (1998): The Hours

Simone DE BEAUVOIR (1949): The Second Sex

Andrea DWORKIN (1981): Pornography: Men Possessing Women

Andrea DWORKIN (1983): Right-Wing Women

Silvia FEDERICI (2012): Revolution at Point Zero: Housework, Reproduction, and Feminist Struggle

Antony FREDRIKSSON (2022): A Phenomenology of Attention and the Unfamiliar: Encounters with the Unknown

Manon GARCIA (2021): We Are Not Born Submissive: How Patriarchy Shapes Women’s Lives

Sarah HENDRICKX (2015): Women and Girls with Autism Spectrum Disorder: Understanding Life Experiences from Early Childhood to Old Age

Walter ISAACSON (2023): Elon Musk

John KAAG (2020): Sick Souls, Healthy Minds: How William James Can Save Your Life

Naomi KLEIN (2023): Doppelganger: A Trip Into the Mirror World

Ferenc KÖTELES (2021): Body Sensations: The Conscious Aspects of Interoception

Diane LAMOUREUX et Francis DUPUIS-DERI (2015): Les antiféminismes : analyse d'un discours réactionnaire

Michael GRAZIANO (2019): Rethinking Consciousness: A Scientific Theory of Subjective Experience

Kati MARTON (2021): The Chancellor: The Remarkable Odyssey of Angela Merkel

Karl MARX (1932): Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844

Greer KIRSHENBAUM (2023): The Nurture Revolution: Grow Your Baby's Brain and Transform Their Mental Health through the Art of Nurtured Parenting

Kate MANNE (2017): Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny

Gabor MATE (2022): The Myth of Normal: Trauma, Illness and Healing in a Toxic Culture

Susan MATTER (2019): The Slow Moon Climbs: The Science, History, and Meaning of Menopause

Kevin MITCHELL (2023): Free Agents: How Evolution Gave Us Free Will

Siddhartha MUKHERJEE (2022): The Song of the Cell: An Exploration of Medicine and the New Human

Emily NAGOSKI (2015): Come as You Are: The Surprising New Science That Will Transform Your Sex Life

Carole PATEMAN (1988): The Sexual Contract

Annie Murphy PAUL (2021): The Extended Mind: The Power of Thinking Outside the Brain

Matthew PERRY (2022): Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing: A Memoir

Devon PRICE (2022): Unmasking Autism

Hartmut ROSA (2018): Resonance: A Sociology of Our Relationship to the World

Martin SELIGMAN (1975): Helplessness: On Depression, Development, and Death

Miguel A. SEPULVEDA-PEDRO (2023): Enactive Cognition in Place

Mary Ann SIEGHART (2021): The Authority Gap: Why Women are Still Taken Less Seriously Than Men, and what We Can Do about it

Timothy SNYDER (2018): The Road to Unfreedom

Gloria STEINEM (1992): Revolution from Within

John STOLTENBERG (1993): The End of Manhood: A Book for Men of Conscience

Liv STRÖMQUIST (2014): Fruit of Knowledge

Michael TOMASELLO (2022): The Evolution of Agency: Behavioral Organization from Lizards to Humans

Yanis VAROUFAKIS (2023): Technofeudalism: What Killed Capitalism

Peter VERMEULEN (2009): Autism as Context Blindness

Peter VERMEULEN (2022): Autism and The Predictive Brain: Absolute Thinking in a Relative World

Jane WARD (2015): Not Gay: Sex Between Straight White Men

Jane WARD (2020): The Tragedy of Heterosexuality

Niobe WAY (2011): Deep Secrets: Boys’ Friendships and the Crisis of Connection

#book #biblioindex #bookindex #2023

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league-of-skins · 1 year ago

Text

Arcana Xayah and Rakan

One half of a perpetually incomplete whole, Xayah has found her love not in the world of the Higher Arcana, but the Lower. As she strains to meet the fated Rakan and pull him upwards towards herself, their tension frays and forms discordant knots—setting the stage for something new.

One half of a perpetually incomplete whole, Rakan's fated love was not in the Lower World, but among the Higher Arcana far above. As the two rush to meet betwixt the lands of their birth, fate bubbles and boils over—a roiling sea from which a new order may emerge.

It’s a double feature!

General Information:

Price: 1350 RP Tier: Epic Release Date: April 14, 2022 Skinline: Arcana

Credits (Xayah):

Concept: Yanie Yang Splash Art: Marie Magny Model: Siao Sia Animations: Awen Yu Tech Art/Rigging: Crane Wang VFX: Huanmo Ju SFX: [I wasn't able to find credits for this position] Artist Lead: Duy Khanh Nguyen

Credits (Rakan):

Concept: Yanie Yang Splash Art: Marie Magny Model: Sylph Pang Animations: Kuma Hu Tech Art: Rongcheng Sheng, Chen Lai Rigging: Jason Sun VFX: Jianqi Huo, Yingfeng Zhao (concept) SFX: James Shen Artist Lead: Duy Khanh Nguyen

Concept:

I honestly don’t really understand Arcana’s lore and I find it visually impossible to differentiate between the higher and lower arcana but I can forgive that because I find Broken Covenant to be stylistically worse. Visually, Arcana simply appears more cohesive.

Several of Rakan's and Xayah's skins are based on the star-crossed lovers trope. With that being said, Arcana is at least unique in it not being good vs. evil like Broken Covenant or Star Guardian, but more of a hierarchical difference. It is interesting that in all of these instances, Rakan seems to be the one getting the short end of the stick.

All in all, I haven't really liked any of Xayah's or Rakan's skins since Elderwood but, for Arcana, at least, it is not at the fault of its concept.

Design:

I love the colors. I also love how Xayah’s cape ends are a little sharper than Rakan’s and how whole her cape goes from red to black, Rakan’s is the opposite and goes from black to red. I honestly think Rakan’s design has too much going on, especially in the top half, but it’s much more obvious in his chromas. I do like the stripe on his pants though.

Splash Art:

Thematically, their posing makes sense with Xayah being above Rakan and I do enjoy the half wing imagery with their capes. The issue is that it doesn't look good on the loading screen. The concept arts look so much better and while A is my personal favorite, I do love C's heart frame as well as the implication that Xayah succeeds in ascending Rakan so that they can be together.

Model:

I think Xayah looks absolutely wonderful, mostly staying true to her concept design. I really like the subtle cape changes as well but I’m very happy they kept the gold, feather-like layer at the top. I also quite like how Rakan’s arms turned out but some of the arm bracings do contribute to the noise. And, of course, Rakan wants to be loud and contrasting to Xayah, but I think in the context of this skin it’s better to rely on more subtle differences like the capes. I think having them look so similar and striving for that cohesiveness is done away by having to make Rakan “flashier” simply because he’s Rakan. And I believe that thought extends to their chromas as Xayah utilizes more muted colors in her clothing with occasional brighter hair while Rakan’s chromas are all bright and bold.

Chromas:

I'm not sure how chromas are made, but it's a little disappointing how the colors don't match well to each other despite the base skin accomplishing it fairly well. Something I especially enjoy is their contrasting capes, but the uncoordinated colors don't accomplish the same effect in their chromas.

Catseye: I can excuse the hair colors but Xayah's clothes are much more orange while Rakan's are obviously yellow with purple accents for no reason. His hair also looks really bad.

Obsidian: They look good individually but lack the matching colors.

Pearl: Much more cohesive. Probably their best chroma together. The colors on both are gorgeous and Rakan's hair looks wonderful.

Rose Quartz: Both are nice but the pinks don't match.

Ruby: I really don't understand this one as the base skins are already very red. Xayah just doesn't look good with blonde hair and Rakan has barely changed. Again, their clothes don't match with Xayah's being orange again while Rakan's are almost a pinkish red.

Sapphire: I actually quite like Xayah's. Once again, Rakan's hair looks terrible.

Tanzanite: Once again, the colors don't match. Xayah's is more of a magenta while Rakan's is a much clearer purple. I dislike his hair.

Turquoise (Xayah): Pretty nice.

Emerald (Rakan): Emerald chromas aren't really supposed to look nice, but it's decent.

The biggest issue is that the colors simply don't match and that in giving Rakan the Emerald chroma, they each have a chroma that they cannot match with their partner. I think they did a really good job of contrasting Xayah's hair with her clothes and I appreciate how the colors are quite simple. Rakan, on the other hand, suffers a lot from the two-tone hair and it becomes difficult to make it look nice. Similarly, his much more decorated and complicated attire makes the many accents sort of overtake the chroma. I think the most obvious example of this is in their Sapphire chroma where while Xayah's yellow accents are more minimal, Rakan's are so prominent that they have to extend to his hair.

Animations:

No new animations aside from individual recalls. No new joint recall.

I really love Rakan's recall individually. Xayah's is extremely similar to Ahri's with her spreading out the tarot cards and picking one but their differences in personality are evident.

VFX:

I think Rakan's passive effects are beautiful with the red and yellow colors. My favorite ability is probably his W (Grand Entrance). I really enjoy the inclusion of the apple tree that's also present in their splash art, alluding to Xayah's efforts to ascend her lover as well as, of course, the first sin. I also love the charm effects from his R (The Quickness).

Xayah's particle effects are also beautiful. I really love her E (Bladecaller) root effects with the tarot cards floating around her opponent. Similarly, their inclusion in her R (Featherstorm) is also gorgeous.

Rakan's glowing effect on his cape is so well done and I really enjoy how the patterns on both of their capes appear to be moving down like stars falling from the sky with Rakan's being much more rapid than Xayah's. I think it's a wonderful detail. The visual effects are by far the highlight of these skins.

SFX:

Nothing too revolutionary, but they’re nice. You’ll most likely notice the visual effects more but I believe competent sound effects are the backbone of good visual effects.

Voice Over:

No new voice overs.

Value:

I personally would never buy this skin nor Broken Covenant. I think it's ridiculous that you can't get its full value if you choose to play the game effectively and utilize their Lover's Leap passive. I think it's even more ridiculous that Riot not only ignored this feedback, but did the exact opposite and completely scrapped their joint recall animation. I'd like to mention the Redeemed Star Guardian skins but I believe it warrants its own post.

I believe the precedence of Rakan and Xayah having unique joint recall animations was first set with their Sweetheart skins (their release skins, Cosmic, uses the base animation). In that skin, the animation is much simpler than their individual recalls, but still sweet and new. I'm not expecting them to make every new joint recall as elaborate as Elderwood's, but to scrap the idea entirely when Sweetheart Rakan and Xayah exists makes it seem like they're giving up.

#league of legends #league of legends xayah #xayah league of legends #lol xayah #xayah lol #xayah #league of legends rakan #rakan league of legends #lol rakan #rakan lol #rakan #xayah and rakan

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minevn · 2 months ago

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hai! hope ur doing guud! what would u rank the characters best to worst to date? tyyyyy

BEST

Aki- To nobodies surprise, it's Aki! She’s not a yandere and she’s your childhood friend, she knows SO much about you already and cherishes every single moment she’s spent and will spend with you. Overall, she’s just a healthy relationship, platonic and romantic!

Minato- Also not a yandere, and although he still holds some of his protectiveness from when he was, it’s toned down so much and really all its ever stemmed from was just wanting you to be safe, to not lose you like he did his mom.

Haruto- I mean, he’s another childhood friend and if you got with him you’d be set for life. He cherishes you and worships you, he would do almost anything you ask him to do(other than kill his brother…or to leave you alone LOL) but he knows just as much if not more about you then Aki does.

Jun- I mean, she’s a yandere but she wouldn’t kidnap you, she genuinely cares about you and your happiness and lot. I feel like Jun would be fixable as a yandere too, like I could see Jun genuinely wanting to get better and be a good person. She has that other Haruto, but as she is now, there's just other things that Haruto has over her, but I'd say they're tied.

Hoshi- TWO WORDS! LOVER! BOY! Hoshi fucking sucks in the beginning, easily the worst, and it’s not like it just goes away either, Hoshi still pranks you and is rough with you. BUT!! He communicates with you, he really cares about you(even if the way he shows it isn’t the best), he takes care of you(cooking is his specialty but he can do it all(almost)), he lets you know that you are loved, that HE loves you. That’s where he surpasses Habiki AND Kage. And over time he def softens up, he tries to get over his trauma of being cheated on, and TRUSTS you, LOVES you. (I’m…a Hoshi person…😒SIGH)

Habiki- okay, technically Habiki is NICER to you than Hoshi(he still SUCKS though. I will say that Hoshi has a “reason”(not a good one or an excuse, but still a reason)and Habiki is just…kinda crappy) but I feel like there’d always be some kind of disconnect in a relationship with Habiki. Habiki isn’t a very expressive person and it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking cause of that, and it wouldn’t be so bad if they communicated, but they don’t do that either. And although Habiki loves you a lot and has let you into his life and heart, he still struggles to tell you how he feels about you.

Kage- god, I love Kage so much, and he’s def gotten better, but like, he's also very closed off and communicating would be such a big problem in your relationship. I will say, at least he treats you kindly all the time though, he’s got that over Hoshi and Habiki. It just really would not be healthy for either you or him to get in a relationship. Besides Kage would kidnap you, probably wouldn't even feed you well(have fun eating ramen noodles and drinking energy drinks for the rest of your life), and he stalks you the third most out of the cast.

Yani- On one note, they're loyal towards you asf(and not violent to you at all(on purpose) like Kei is, not that Kei is super violent towards you if you're good) on the other, they don't have the best understanding of personal space, has committed mass murder for you, kidnaps you, stalks you. They're a sweetheart deep down and love you loads, but not a good healthy relationship partner. There would be no boundaries and you'd be isolated from everyone. Yani would literally keep you in her house forever, and its a rinky dink, run down, dingy shack with tons of mold and insects.

Kei- just…no…you’d basically have to have complete submission and be a doll for him, and although he really REALLY does love you, it’s in such an unhealthy way. You wouldn’t think of him as the worst to date considering he is the most “perfect” boyfriend, but once again the moment you even talk to another person, it’s over for that person and you’ve lost privileges to go outside.

WORST

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yaniluvs · 5 months ago

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ꫂ ၴႅၴ [리노] : NERD ── your best friend decides to give you some company when you were working on an album in the studio, alone.

𓍯 idolbsf!minho ʚଓ prodfem!reader ：（ 𝒾 ） 1.3k ── ༯ DRABBLE, fluff, friends to lovers, skz ensemble, petnames, kisses, corny flirting. ⸝⸝𓂃𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 . /ᐠ.ꞈ.ᐟ\ྀིྀི

yani's note ˖˙ ᰋ min is so cute >< had fun writing this lowkey giggling.. comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated ! happy reading <3

minho leaned back on the couch in the dimly lit recording studio, his eyes half lidded with a mix of exhaustion and contentment. it was— well, past midnight. but the studio was still buzzing with eternal life, the faint sound of taps and muted rustle of paper filling the air.

and on the chair, writing in front of him, sat her, her fingers deftly gliding over her laptop keyboard as she worked on arranging of a track they’d been working on all day. she was— oh so, in her element, completely soaked in her work; her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, bangs slightly disheveled from hours of concentration. but minho? that man could not help but smile at the sight.

she had always been like this, ever since they were as young as elementary kids. while the other students in middle school were busy gaming and gossiping about who-knows-what, she was rather lost in her own little world of melodies and papers. always been the academic weapon, she devoured literature as if they were going out of style. it was, so, endearing, the way she immersed herself in music, spending countless hours reading and writing, producing and perfecting.

nerd, you say?

then you’re so correct. minho was constantly teasing her about it back in middle school, calling her a "nerd" whenever she carried a stack of music theory books that was nearly half her height. but there definitely was something about the way she looked with those oversized glasses, her bangs framing her face, her intense focus on whatever she was working on—it was impossibly adorable, and it made his heart flutter more than he cared to admit.

the way his eyes twinkled whenever she spoke. the way he caught himself staring at her lips a tiny bit longer than ever. boy, was he down bad.

“still tweaking that bridge?” minho’s voice broke the silence. “if you keep obsessing over it, you’re going to burn a literal hole through your screen.”

she glanced up, rolling her eyes but failing to suppress a tiny smile.

“i’m not obsessing. i’m refining. there’s a difference.”

“uh-huh. refining.” minho drawled, leaning on the armrest of the couch, resting his head on his hands from the side, as he watched her. “you’re still the same nerd from middle school— you know? if not, prettier.”

“better a ‘pretty’ nerd than a slacker,” she shot back, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with a finger, a simple action that made his chest tighten with internal giggles. “at least i’m not the one who had to ask for help with his choreography last week.”

minho winced at the reminder. “please, i was just… creatively blocked.”

“right.” a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, her left dimple in clear view. “and who helped you out of that ‘creative block’? oh, that’s right— me!”

he huffed, shaking his head. “yeah, yeah, you’re the genius here. happy?”

minho watched her for a moment longer, his heart pounding a little harder than usual.

the pair had grown up together, shared countless memories, and been there for each other through every awkward, confusing stage of life. but somewhere along the line, his feelings for her had deepened, evolved into something more than just friendship. and the fact that the other members knew about it, in such a short span of time—and teased him relentlessly for it—didn’t help that at all.

“you know,” he began, trying to sound casual, “the guys think i’m head over heels for you.”

she snorted, her gaze still fixed at her prized macbook. “delusional enough? bet they’re just sulky over all the rumours, honestly.” she teased, chuckling softly. “they’ve also probably been teasing you endlessly, haven’t they?”

he groaned. “you have no idea. they won’t let me live it down. they say i get all starry-eyed whenever you’re around.”

“do you?” she finally looked up, a glint in her eyes. “get all starry-eyed, i mean?”

his grin faltered, and he felt a slight panic rising in his chest. this was dangerous territory, the kind where a careless word or a slip of the tongue could reveal far more than he was ready to admit.

he cleared his throat, trying to maintain his usual cool demeanour. “maybe i do..?” he immediately shook it off. “nah, i don’t. like you said— they’re just delusional. but.. you are kinda mesmerising when you’re in your zone, actually.”

she laughed, a light, melodic sound that sent warmth spreading through his chest. “well, if that’s the case, then i’m flattered, lee know.”

he rolled his eyes in utmost sass, at the use of his stage name but didn’t protest. he was about to retort with something equally teasing when the door to the studio burst open, revealing the infamous insomniacs; chan, felix, and jisung stumbling in, their grins wide and eyes twinkling with nothing but teasing.

“minho hyung!” jisung sing-songed, dragging out the last syllable as he waltzed over to the couch, plopping down beside him. “what’s this we hear about you being all googly-eyed over her again?”

minho groaned, slumping back in his seat. “eavesdropping now, are we?”

“only when it’s entertaining,” felix chimed in, leaning against the wall with a grin that screamed trouble. “and watching you get all flustered around her is very top-tier entertainment— almost like a drama— no, better!”

“lix,” she sighed, her tone exasperated but affectionate. “do you guys have nothing better to do?”

chan, always the voice of reason, held up his hands in mock surrender. “we were just passing by and couldn’t resist. besides, we have to make sure minho doesn’t mess things up with his childhood sweetheart, y’know?”

minho shot him a withering glare. “i hate you all.”

“mmm, liar, you love us,” jisung quipped, nudging minho with his elbow. “almost as much as you love her.”

minho’s face burned at that, and he tried to stammer out a response, but she beat him to it, her voice laced with amusement.

“alright, alright, that’s enough. let the poor guy breathe.”

chan, felix, and han exchanged glances before erupting into laughter, clearly enjoying his cute discomfort. but they took pity on minho, retreating with exaggerated bows and blown kisses before filing out of the room, leaving him alone with her once more.

there was a brief silence after they left, and minho could feel the weight of her gaze on him. he sighed, running a hand through his hair, knowing he’d never hear the end of this from the guys later.

she chuckled lightly, making literal pigs run around his unbearable heart. that— oh fuck, that little laugh. it made him go just a little too— nuts?

“classic skz,” she said, a smile escaping her pretty lips.

“don’t worry— if it’s like— uncomfortable, i’ll just go and let them know. you know it’s all fun—“

she smiled, a small, genuine smile that sent his heart soaring. “min, it’s fine, really.”

“but are they wrong though?”

he raised an eyebrow, his heart slightly racing quicker. “w-wrong?” that head-over-heels motherfucker just stuttered. how did it even escape his lips?

he composed his posture, clearing his throat, “i mean— about— what?”

for a moment, neither of them spoke, the realization hanging in the air between them like a fragile thread. then, slowly, minho reached out, his hand hovering over hers before gently taking it.

and they made eye contact. her eyes searching his brown ones; while that man’s gaze turned all heart-eyed. get a grip, minho, will you?

but his heart was not stopping, nope.

“what would you say if—” he began,

only to be interrupted.

by her.

by her— soft lips embracing his in a gentle yet deep, kiss.

after a long minute— they pull away; breaths heavy and skin crimson.

“holy fuck, those pretty lips taste sweeter than i expected.”

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desiresiwant · 6 months ago

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𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

word count: 4.4k~

warnings: violence/mild gore, death, prostitution (living at a brothel), strong vulgar language, Targaryen/Dornish mixed bastard, mentions of sexual themes & crushing on an older man (slight grooming), and overall mature setting for mature (18+) audience.

a/n: this is the 1st chapter of my AU HOTD longfic featuring my Black OC. It’s also my first ever posting a fic on here so If there’s more I should add to my warnings that I skipped or whatever, please let me know.

MASTERLIST | NEXT->

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗢𝗻𝗲 | 𝗧𝗼𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱

𝑺𝒀𝑳𝑽𝑰𝑨 𝑷𝑨𝑼𝑺𝑬𝑫, letting the air within her lungs expand and release through her lips as she listened to the earth move around; the brushing wind as hot as a blowing breath and the sun, beating down sweat against her deep brown skin that clung her dirty beige shirt like water and clay. What was once loosely fitting, now tight and wet.

The wooden bow she made for herself rested at her side. Her sweaty fingers covered in dry sand curled around the thin string and held the arrow in place to release whenever.

With her shoulders tensed and ears open, Sylvia stepped over browning leaves and hopped rock to rock to cover her footprints. Yanis' words replayed in her head, reminding the girl to move with the earth and not of the ground. She never understood his silly sayings but loved the way it sounded off his tongue. Proof he cared for her more than he led on.

She stood on the heels of her worn-out boots when leaves shuffled somewhere to the left. Backing against the tree, a clear view of an antelope with pointy antlers chewed on plants. A beautiful brown creature it was. Sylvia lifted her bow and leveled the sturdy weapon with the tip of her nose. Stretching the arrow as far back as it could, she released it and allowed the wind to carry the rest.

The antelope fell.

Sylvia lowered the splinter-prone bow with a victorious smile suppressing her youthful face.

"Yes!"

She jumped off the rocks and followed wet trails of a failed escape, finding her prey bleeding out with an arrow sticking out its head. Using her foot to help pull out the arrow, even more blood poured. Its legs twitched.

"How did I do?" Sylvia asked, wiping its blood along her trousers, still too big for her waist.

Over her shoulder stood Yanis, leaning against a towering tree with his arms across his ash brown attire, head slightly tilted, with not one spec of shared delight. His expression was more grim, disappointed. He jumped off the hill in one clean movement and headed toward her. Even then, Sylvia couldn't stop the blood from rushing her cheeks.

There was a reason women fancied Yanis. Besides his thick accent, his adventurous encounters around the world, and the obvious fact that Dornish people were most beautiful, he was perfect. Glistening golden skin, thick dark curls reaching his neck, deep mud-brown eyes. A skilled swordsman, a former knight, a true seeker of the world, and a great lover—which she only knew because he'd spend his leisure time at pleasure houses, one where she and her mother resided.

Women loved when Yanis came around. He had the power of making those around him feel beautiful and loved inside and out. It was why her cheeks burned often, why her pulse spiked and warm tingles were felt between her thighs—she liked him. A lot. He made her feel both beautiful and loved despite her unique features.

Silver hair.

Grey eyes.

Scales.

The scales she bore since a babe weren't any ordinary scales often mistaken as Greyscale—they were dragon scales.

They stretched along the center of her left cheek to her chin and scattered her neck on the same side. Few along the blade of her left shoulder, and back thighs. Black as the night sky but shined a dark shade of purple and blue even green against the rising sun or close-up. Thick loose curls white as fresh fallen snow with a warm undertone. Eyes grey like pouty clouds during a terrible storm with a mauve tint mixed into the pallet, known when it's bright out. And to those who have yet compared her to a monster or an unknown disease, she was quite a beauty. But hid her feminine frame beneath men's clothing and her beauty, beneath a black scarf.

Unlike a mother who cuddled her children from the dangers of the world and left unprepared in a life that waited for no one, Sylvia knew herself well. She's a bastard. Her father whom gifted her uniqueness, Daemon Targaryen, was prince of Dragonstone and a commander. He fought wars for the king, his brother who ruled the Seven Kingdoms, and won. A fearless warrior with a heart of stone, skin of burning fire, hands stained of innocent blood, and a stare that lugs fear. But he was kind too. At least to her mother, he was. He granted her knowledge of his world during his stay in Dorne and sought only her comfort before he left.

There is pride in what you are, Sylvia's mother often reminded. And she was proud of her inheritance. To be born a bastard with royal blood in her veins made her feel special even if her father knew not if she existed. Yet, not too prideful that she must cover herself so as not to stand out.

There weren't any white-haired people in Toland. None with grey eyes or dry scales. They were all of black and brown with black and brown hair and black and brown eyes. Sylvia stood out regardless.

"Sloppy." Yanis replied.

"Sloppy?" Sylvia repeated with much distaste. "I killed it with a clean shot! What do you mean I was sloppy?"

He snatched the arrow from her hand. And instead of wiping it clean as he normally did, he pointed the sharp end toward the stain on her trousers, careful not to pierce her. Blood.

"That is what's sloppy. Might as well admit your guilt while its blood still drips wet. Because you are a woman, no one would expect you to be strong enough to kill a man. That is why no evidence of your kill should lead its trail back to you unless you wish yourself an early grave." He tapped the rounded side of the arrow against her forehead with two taps. "Keep that in mind. Your body can't please everyone, but your skills can build a kingdom. Your blood is a kingdom."

Sylvia rubbed her forehead, no care for his words. "That is why I have you to teach me this stuff."

"Only because of your silver hair do I give you the time and day."

Sylvia drew blank as Yanis curled his finger around a loose strand of her white hair. His tall frame hovered like a tree shading the sun as his breath blew warm against her burning cheeks.

Her brows rose with mild shock at his obvious response. "Is that so?"

"It is," Yanis said, and while she knew he was teasing, there was a vein of seriousness beneath his voice.

"And that is all?"

Stepping closer to minimize the gap, Sylvia looked into his eyes for more than he offered. A sign that all this hunting and pointless preparation for whatever reason was in fact courting with an end goal of being wedded. Why else would he choose to stay in a shithole for five years when the world called for him? Why else would he tease her with gentle touching, even once almost kissed her, and profess his need to protect her from the dangers ahead?

He must know his power over her. How her body responded to everything that involved him. And if not a coward, Sylvia would have stood on her toes to kiss him. To end this vacancy and choose their future for them.

Sylvia had recently turned nine-and-ten years (19) and he was six-and-twenty (26). Still a maiden, still young enough to birth children though she was crossing the line of being considered too old to marry, and they got along well. He was the only man at her side, the only she wanted to keep forever.

But as affectionate as Yanis was, he was naturally nice and welcoming which was why Sylvia failed to decipher between the two. It was why she couldn't kiss him no matter how desperately she wanted to.

The corner of his lips tugged upward. "That is all."

Yanis didn't look at her but was rather intrigued by her hair, as he stated once too many times.

"If my hair intrigues you so much, why not take me as your wife so our children may share the same trait?" Sylvia boldly asked, and at that, Yanis chuckled. She could tell he saw her as a child and not a woman. "Don't let my clothes fool you, I'm a woman through and through. A woman who will need a husband. A husband who not only provides and protects, but a husband who knows how to fuck."

His chuckle grew into a full-blown laughing fit, as though what she said was funny. Even Sylvia was convinced and didn't know how to react besides copying him. Her teeth were shown, slightly parted, yet nothing came out. She possibly appeared more confused than humored. This wasn't a laughing matter. . .was it?

"And what do you know about fucking? You're still a virgin, yes?" Yanis' laughter never died and it was starting to irritate her.

"Yes."

"Then what do you know?"

Untouched by a man, but not by a woman. Not that it was important or he needed to know.

"So teach me." Sylvia flung her arms around his neck, his beautiful head of curls soft beneath her fingers, and they were now inches from kissing. "Teach me how to fuck. Teach me as your wife. You obviously know more than I do, why keep it to yourself? Why waste another second on hunting when the prey you seek stands before you, ready to be consumed?"

If her mother was standing in this very predicament, watching her daughter fling herself onto a man, she'd be gravely disappointed. It was the man who should do the chasing, not the woman. Her mother taught her better than that. How to lure a man without outwardly doing so. Be seductive while being seduced. Speak of lies with small truths, enough to gain his trust and feel as though she would have his back against the world. Know her options, and within those options, know which games to play to keep a roof over their heads and a man running back for more. For only a woman can do so much, but a man with wealth and power can open true doors to eternal happiness.

But Yanis wasn't a game. He was just a man Syliva wanted.

She was almost tempted he would finally give in and make her his. . .until he was no longer laughing, a grim expression overtook despite his smiling attempt that grew smaller and smaller. Until he removed her arms from his neck and placed them at her side. Until he realized there was no enjoyment from his humor because she wasn't teasing, she was serious.

"Cover this up." Cold air rushed between as he removed himself from Sylvia's vicinity, and she frowned, feeling embarrassed and an ache in her chest unable to decipher. "Help me get this to the butcher, then we and the house shall feast tonight."

He took Sylvia's bow and arrow to bury in the bushes—a spot they picked together—and bent to grab a strong hold of the antelope's antlers to drag. Her black scarf was back over her head to hide her braided hair and wrapped around her face with only her eyes showing.

Sylvia then helped drag the antelope to the town's butcher without another word or rash confession. Once the animal had been dropped off, Yanis instructed her back home before her mother grew worried, not that it would be a problem as she was to be washing and drying sheets outside before he distracted her.

She quickly unpinned sheets drying under the sun and shoved them in the straw basket where it was last left. Rushed into the white-bricked house built three floors high, hoping she wouldn't run into Madame Marget and her pissy mood swings. The smell of sex and shitty ale burned her nostrils, passing various rooms of laughter and moans of pleasure, even those who didn't have time to make it to a room.

It was a house that attracted men and women from around the world when docking at Toland either to trade, hide from their crimes, or stop for supplies to be on their merry way. Sylvia loved when outsiders would visit. She'd listen to drunk stories of their world and silly customs and marital problems and wars that were waged on bets, pride, and revenge, learning more from them than her own mother.

As she hurried room from room replacing dirty sheets—god knows what substances were spilled whether it was vomit, bodily fluids, blood, alcohol, and worse—with clean sheets, the basket fumbled out of Sylvia's grip when she bumped into someone exiting a nearby room.

"S-sorry," Sylvia was quick on her knees shoving the sheets back into the basket. She kept her head lowered not to attract any unwanted attention. As she was taught; when your head is kept down, no curiosities are to be made.

The blazing sun stitched delicately along the hem of the man's shirt was clear indication he was a man of status. A man who could do great harm just for the fun of it, if his peaceful day was ruined.

Kissing his teeth, he kicked at the basket which tilted everything out again. "Watch it, boy." He insulted as he took his leave. The musk of sex lingered behind.

And the breath she held finally released itself.

Another pair of brown hands decided to help with the mess. "No need. I can do so my—" Sylvia's words choked down her throat when her mother stood before her. "—mother."

Her sheer dress of yellow hung off her shoulders, the roundness of her brown nipples pinched through the fabric, and her loose curls hung lushly at the blades of her shoulders. The deepened crease between her soft brows conveyed disappointment, yet Sylvia had no idea what she had against her now.

"Have you gone hunting with that man again?"

Well, that was something to hold against her.

To avoid the conversation and further disappointment, Sylvia shoved the sheets into the basket with one big scoop. The basket hugging her chest as she stood. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Been busy with chores all day." She lied with ease, rushing to get away from her.

But she grabbed at her trousers. "And this?"

Sylvia didn't need to follow her gaze to the smeared blood, evidence which Yanis advised earlier.

"I told you to stay away from Yanis," now she remembered his name. How funny. "Yes, he is handsome and treats the women here well, as he is wise with his words. But I don't like the way he looks at you. Or the fact he knows about. . ." Her narrowing eyes completed the sentence.

About her defects. Which she was to be proud of, but couldn't if she was to be treated like a creature of the night.

"All the women here share the secret of my white hair, so what if one more person knows?" Sylvia slipped her trousers from her grasp and continued her journey to the kitchens. Her mother tagged along. "And I don't like the fact you fuck him knowing I l—" She caught herself from spilling truths. "—that I meet with him every now and then."

"This is my job, Sylvia. My life. Our survival. And he pays for my services as he has paid for countless women here. Should I turn him down?"

"Yes."

Sylvia picked up her steps.

"Sylvia," her mother called. When she didn't stop the first time, her mother then grabbed her hand and forced her to look into her brown, sadden eyes. "I don't wish to fight with you, I am sorry. I failed to consider your feelings and I will do better. Do you truly hate me?"

Of course, Sylvia could never truly hate her mother for what she does to provide for them. She was born and raised in this house, therefore, her world was only within these walls. But was she selfish to want more? To experience more? To see more of the world that has yet been discovered in her gaze?

That was what Yanis gave Sylvia—hope. The many people who visited the small town of cultured backgrounds which lies at the mouth of Greenblood River, gave her hope.

She held no judgment toward her mother's sacrifices nor her promiscuous lifestyle. Beautiful inside and out and quite young when Syliva was born, the two almost like sisters, she was everything to her and most girls here. But she has wondered. . .if she wasn't like most children who would drown in discomfort and with shame to learn their mother fucks men and women at any time of the day, and often in the bed they slept in. To hear conversations of lovers who described her skills in detailed manners, or seeing nothing but balls and tits daily.

But it was just them. Sylvia and her mother.

And when one was born into a life that seemed no more than ordinary, it was hard to view it as. . .unordinary.

With a sigh, Sylvia leaned forward to kiss her mother's cheek. "No, I could never hate you. I just don't see why you hate Yanis so much."

"I don't wish my life to be yours, Sylvia. Why do you think you're scrubbing floors, washing pissy sheets, and cleaning up after shitty men until your nails are weak and bones brittle? If the madam had it her way, you would've been warming beds long before you bled, starting even younger than me." Her mother continued with great passion. "I've protected you as long as I can and will continue doing so because you deserve better. And with Yanis, he won't give you what I want you to have."

"And what is that?"

"For one, a husband. You deserve a man who will love you as you are as a person, a woman, and not by the color of your hair. A true equal who sees you and one you can learn from. Two, a generosity of wealth and titles. He's a drunk and spends his leisure time in pleasure houses. You'd be broke by the day of your wedding. Your children will inherit nothing but sand and you will be unprotected, left on the streets begging for scrapes. Yanis has his charm, but you're no ordinary woman. You are the daughter of a legendary Targaryen, a ruthless prince. Should my letters reach him and he comes to claim you, you will be a legitimate princess, a noble lady. And a princess deserves better."

Sylvia said nothing. She doubted her father would acknowledge her after nineteen years. Countless days her mother would spend by the window watching and waiting for a sealed letter or her father to come swoop them away to a life of riches and wealth. Even Sylvia would wait and braid her mother's hair to pass time, or be rocked on her mother's lap as she sung and spoke of promises her father made.

Together they would wait and wait, until one day, Sylvia accepted the truth. No man will come save them. Her father would never come. But her mother thought otherwise. Still, to this day she waits.

Her mother meant well and their views aligned when it came to finding Sylvia a husband. Although, she was unsure how they would find all of that in one man when Sylvia had spent the rest of her life within these walls cleaning and cooking after everyone. The men here were no good for her, as her mother said. But, she would love to see her mother try. Or that day to come.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑰𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑫𝑨𝒀, the antelope Sylvia killed was ready to cook. The knights monitoring the area would set campfires along the street and outside of the pleasure house, or hang around the diner area to drink their asses to death and fuck any lover they please.

Sylvia sat far from the gathered group around the campfire playing with her soup and picking at the cooked meat. After a long day of chores and avoiding curious outsiders wanting to know what's hidden beneath her scarf, she looked forward to nights like this. Where she hid best and where the most interesting stories were told.

The air was cooler at night and stories of battles and petty fights filled her ears. Men would project their scars and penis' to prove their manly hood and wow whichever whore stuck at their side for the night.

A pair of boots filled her view.

"Why don't you join our campfire rather than sit so far away?" Asked Yanis.

Sylvia shrugged while playing with her food, the steam warm against her face which was exposed. He knew the reason she sat away from everyone when guests were around, and was surprised he came up to her after her foolish confession. It still left a shameful bitterness on her tongue.

"I like being alone." She told him. It wasn't a lie, but she preferred friends over loneliness.

"Why not be alone with me? At our campfire?"

A beautiful smile stretched his lips when Sylvia lifted her head, her breath caught in her throat. Such a contrast to earlier and it was confusing. Men were confusing. No, he was. What he wanted from Sylvia was unclear and it was infuriating playing a constant game of tug-a-war.

Yanis didn't give Sylvia an option to respond before taking her arm, dragging her over to their campfire, and sat her next to him. The flames were awfully close her toes grew hot and sweat lined her upper-lip, but it was oddly comforting. The campfire was shared with two knights who were too drunk to sit properly and one who couldn't keep his hands to himself.

"Is this not nice? Alone with company." Yanis said.

"I guess so."

He then offered a cup of ale and held her breath at his lips brushing the rim of her ear as he whispered with breath thick of shitty alcohol, "Don't worry too much tonight. I will look over you." He nudged the cup until it was in her hand. And pulled away.

He knew what he was doing. He did.

The bitter taste soured her face and nearly choked swallowing it down. Sylvia never been much of a drinker and because her tolerance was quite low and given the environment, she likes to remain clear-headed in case she needed to defend herself. However, Yanis promised to protect her. So one cup became two, then four.

Laughter echoed at her sixth or seventh round before ripping through her meat.

Brianne, a close friend and whore sold from Myr—a woman Sylvia has kissed twice—sat across the fire. A knight was currently kissing roughly into the crook of her neck while fondling her tan breast. "Why not take off your scarf, Sylvia? You'll be comfortable, yes? Men here are too drunk to remember, and we are familiar." She proposed.

The guard kissing her neck looked to the girl who struggled to hold up her head. "Aye, the boy is a bitch?" He questioned with interest.

"Be quiet!" Brianne slapped his hand away from her breast. "Or you don't touch me again ever."

Wiping the ale from her greasy lips, Sylvia looked to Yanis for an answer she could've answered herself. Something she would never do but her stupid brain thought him closer than he actually was. He shared the same concern with her mother when it came to keeping herself covered to avoid future conflicts.

As though he felt her gaze and knew why she looked at him, Yanis shrugged nonchalantly. "Do as you please. At your pace of drinking, you won't remember either."

Yanis slouched over the wooden bench and rested his elbows on his knees, staring out into the fire.

But Sylvia knew he was watching from the corner of his eyes as she unraveled her scarf finally revealing her bold hair braided down her back, then placed the scarf in her lap. She waited for comments to roll in, but as Brianne said, they were too drunk and occupied to care.

"Pretty like your mother." Brianne gleamed. "Don't you agree, Yanis?"

A weird but warm feeling expanded her belly when Yanis turned his head to view Sylvia under his curled lashes. He's witnessed her a million times without the scarf, so why was it different now? Was it light from the fire which glistened in his eyes? The dark stubbles outlining his handsome face? The frizzy curls being pushed so that he may hold this gaze with her? Was it a drunk illusion of what she wished would happen?

"Yes," his voice barely whispered, which only she heard, then grinned brighter than the moon. "Very beautiful. Always have been."

His grin found her face. Sylvia lowered her head to hide the blush creeping red amongst her already flushed cheeks. Everything her mother listed about Yanis not being a perfect match was thrown out of the window. Their earlier encounter, thrown out. And as confusing as he was, one fact stayed true—I think I may love him, a lot more than I intended to.

But her thoughts were erupted by a piercing scream filling the smoky air. Her muscles tensed when a wet substance splattered across her face, almost blinding her. She lifted her shaky fingers and touched her face. Blood. But she wasn't hurt nor did any pain send signals.

Thump.

A figure beside Sylvia fell at her feet. The color from her face fled and her pulse spiked at an arrow shot deep and clean through his skull, out his eye socket, now catching fire.

Yanis.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

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