Jade Nsft Utc

jade nsft utc

working as jade’s bodyguard would be such a shitty gig not because of the danger or whatever (jade compensates you very nicely for any occupational hazards) but because she makes a sport out of trying to tempt you. to see how far your will can hold out against your desire. by that i mean she will almost nightly get herself off in her opulent hotel rooms, and she will ensure you can hear every single damn thing. her indulgent sighs of pleasure; the hitch of her breath as she gets closer; the long, drawn out moan as she cums on her own fingers. sometimes, if she’s worked up enough, you might even be able to hear the squelch of her fingers working her dripping cunt, or maybe the hum of her vibrator, or the wet smacks of her favourite dildo as she fucks it in and out of herself. and if she’s feeling particularly evil she’ll let your name slip from her lips as she cums, just so she can see the tense, hard lines of your expression the next morning as she pretends like everything’s normal. and she’ll do this over and over again until your control finally snaps and you give in. that’s the part she loves the most, because you’ll fuck her like some feral creature, your strap utterly rearranging her guts on the nearest surface you can find, until she’s creaming all over the silicone and utterly brainless with pleasure to tempt you any further. she’ll only smile dazedly up at you when you pull away, leaving her messy cunt clenching around nothing.

after all, she knows how to make you come right back.

“ oh pup come on, just one kiss and a hug? “

“ feixiao—no, you’re sweaty and you just came back from lifting weights. “

you sighed, backing away from her open arms with a skeptical look on your face. feixiao’s ears nearly flatten and she cutely pouts. “ i’m not that sweaty. it was only an hour session. you’re making it seem like i ran 4 whole miles and came back sweating buckets. “ your brows curl upwards as you eye the beads of sweat rolling down her toned deltoids and biceps, glistening her creamy skin. you cross your arms over your chest, looking back up at her hopeful cerulean eyes. she offers you a crooked smile.

“ yeah, no. go take a shower and i’ll gladly give you all the kisses and hugs you want. “

shaking her head, she chuckles before taking a slow step towards you with a mischievous glint swimming in her shimmering eyes.

“ no can do, i want them now. i won’t take no for an answer. i tried to ask nicely but it seems like i’d just have to take what i want now. “

before you can even react, her sturdy arms are already wrapped around you, caging you in. “ ewww f-fei, st-stop! “ you shouted, half laughing. she presses your body close to hers, smiling brightly at the sounds of your laughter. “ i can’t do that one~ what’s wrong with a little sweating anyways? you’re my beloved mate. you shouldn’t mind it at all, mm? “

your lover presses obnoxiously loud, wet kisses all over your face. a few littered across your brows, forehead, the bridge of your nose—all over. “

“ muah. muah. muah. muah. i’m starting to feel a little better now. “ she mutters jokingly between kisses.

“ feeeii. “

“ now, now. i’m almost done. i’m missing a spot, aren’t i? can you guess where, pup? “ she asks sweetly, waiting patiently for your answer with a resting smile.

“ the shower is what you’re missing. “ you answer playfully, pressing your palms into feixiao’s shoulders as an attempt to break away from her embrace. she only tightens her hold around you.

“ wrong. but wow, i’m wounded by your answer, i suppose there’s only one way to heal me. “ she grins cheekily, gaze visibly lowering as she begin to lean in.

“ aeons, you’re such a little weasel. “ you try to push her face away but she easily catches your wrist. her breath fans against your lips as she chuckles again. “ and so what if i am? i got what i needed anyways. “

with that, feixiao kisses your lips and smiles in triumph as you melt in her strong arms.

“ chu~ “

ᴀ ᴊᴏᴜꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ?

Daenerys Targaryen x Knight!reader

Words : 3.7k+

Summary : You dread the day she finds someone else, but is that something worth worrying about? At all?

Warning (s) : suggestive themes?? Daario being annoying.

[requested by anons]

∵※∵

“Your grace.”

“My Queen.” You fought the urge to roll your eyes as Daario Naharis bowed dramatically beside you, keeping your demeanor impassive as you stood straight, catching the eyes of no other than the Queen. There was a glint in her violet orbs, a subtle pull at the edge of her lips when she noticed your distaste for the man currently chasing after her affection.

You tried to pay him no mind, drawing her attention onto you fully as you went after battle strategies on ways to take over Yunkai while the aggravating man kept on making severely inappropriate hints to Daenerys, who’d only sent him an amused smile each time he winked her way. She was enjoying the newfound attention from the man that gave her a whole army of the Second Sons, and you couldn’t help but find him irritating for the sole reason of his cockiness.

It was no surprise that he knew the ways into the city, like he’d sneaked in so many times – you refused to let them take it down without you, much to Daenerys’ protests. Better to keep your eyes on him, even if that meant leaving her behind; Barristan would do well in keeping her safe. After all, the old man seemed to be doing fine despite your relentless challenges upon his abilities.

“One sight of trouble, come back to me.” Her hushed words were directed to you only, far away from curious ears and nosy presence of the group who’d taken post outside the tent before leaving. There was desperation in her pleading gaze and you couldn’t help but crack a smile, one that you shot down as soon as you realized the speck of blush on her cheeks, lips turned upward and mirroring yours. Such a smile that pulled at the edge of her eyes and your heartstrings at the same time, one that sent your world crumbling down as you remembered you weren’t the only one receiving it.

“You’re doubting me, Your Grace?” Even with your fake offense, her grin didn’t subside, knowing your tendency of teasing her with a straight face – most people always found it odd, not registering your attempt at cracking jokes in the middle of training or discussion. Daenerys decided it would be unacceptable to have one meeting without your terrible jokes.

She shook her head as she brushed off the imaginary dust on your shoulder, “I doubt your self-control,” You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence at her innuendo. “Don’t kill him.” It was more a command than a request, but Daenerys knew she couldn’t stop you if you were to decide otherwise – it would be a great loss, though not one she couldn’t overcome.

“Why would I indulge myself in your fury, Khaleesi?” Daenerys hated the way your few words always seemed to draw such pathetic reactions from her, yet she loved it anyway, for the flutters in her chest when you called her by that title was one that made her crave for something better, a higher place only she could reach with you by her side – it made her crave you.

None of those would ever be of knowledge to anyone else, however. Not when you rode off into the dark, raiding a city with a reckless plan she was sure would end up in destruction. Not when her heart anxiously beat faster as the hours ticked by, silence ringing throughout the starry night she otherwise would’ve enjoyed.

But certainly when she’d became so worried that a single console from Missandei caused her tongue to slip and her mouth to spill out her pent up thoughts.

Daenerys couldn’t recall most of the words tumbling out of her throat, only that a laugh emitted from the translator so carefree and amused, both of them paused with wide eyes assessing each other in alarm – Missandei in fear of offending her Queen, and Daenerys in distress over giving away her feelings for her Knight.

Making her swear to never tell anyone could be considered exaggerating; for one, Missandei would never even thought of betraying her trust in handling the precious information, bless her soul, and two, it wasn’t as if no one had a clue of her.. attachment to the stoic fighter.

Except for Daenerys herself, of course.

↭↯↭

It was well in the night after pacing a hole on the ground that Daenerys heard a commotion outside, signaling the horses arriving and with them, hopefully, her intact group of fighters. That is, if you hadn’t left Daario to die in the battlefield. Jorah was the first to enter her peripheral, his appearance a slight relief to her heart; hair disheveled and dust collecting on his armour, but at least he wasn’t visibly straining against death.

“Where’s Daario Naharis?” Daenerys could see Missandei grimacing at the question coming out of her mouth, the obvious person missing from her sight should’ve been her top priority. They couldn’t blame her for worrying for the lesser of the fighter, now, could they?

She was an idiot. The mother of dragons, the Khaleesi of the great grass sea, was an idiot. Because when Daario strutted in, presenting her with the flag of Yunkai he stole from the towers, she could see no sign of you, and her heart fell to her stomach, panic written in her eyes that it probably gave away more than she’d preferred.

It took all but a glance at her translator before she bolted outside, frantically scouting the crowd for- There. The tent across from hers – she spared no time to think over her actions, her feet carrying her to the opened gap and sliding in without much consideration.

“Why-” Her confrontation was stuck in her throat by the sight she was greeted with; your back, bruises forming all around the smooth skin, an actively bleeding wound just below your shoulder blades. When your eyes caught hers, she could swear she saw your life flash before your eyes in panic, hastily throwing a cloth over your back to cover it. “Shit, Daenerys. What are you doing here?” Oh, you didn’t use her title. The thought made her head spin; it sounded even better than when you made the conscious decision to do otherwise – formality be damned. The Targaryen would do anything to hear you say the word again, if only the circumstances were on her side.

You moved towards the pile of clothes stacked on the makeshift bed, but Daenerys grabbed your hands before you could attempt to shrug on a layer of fresh clothing on top of the open wounds. An idiot, that’s what you were. Your movements were calculated, voice too low and breathing too calm for someone who was gravely injured – even the Queen had trouble keeping herself in check in order not to trip over something or worse, dabbed at the gash too harshly. You shifted uncomfortably with your back facing her, the idea of Daenerys, standing there and cleaning your wound was too much to comprehend. It felt too close, too intimate for it to simply be a form of sympathy a Royal could hold for her royal guard.

“It was an easy raid,” Daenerys felt her hands sweat and shake as each dip of the cloth darkened the water just a bit more, her inadequate skills doing the best at washing off the blood, leaving the red, raw skin exposed to the air. “Most of the masters fled once they caught wind of us, giving the city away to save themselves.” Feeling the lack of motion, you turned your head and found her fingers hovering over your shoulder.

Deciding it was clean enough, you rose from your sitting position and faced her, ushering her towards the exit while simultaneously wrapping a dressing over the injury. “It’s just a cut.” Daenerys frowned, slightly struggling against the rigid and hard muscles of your arms, wishing to have a reason to stay – there wasn’t. And she cursed the world for it.

“It doesn’t seem like just a cut.” You only hummed, crossing your arms and stared at her the way it always made Daenerys melt and her heart to thrum aggressively in her chest. The smile she earned was enough for her cheeks to bloom with colour, and the Khaleesi found it hard to avert her gaze away from your lips.

“I’ll recover, Your Grace.” Now that she’d had a taste of her name on your tongue, she never wanted to hear it reciting her titles ever again. “And if I fail, there will be another to replace me.” Shrugging, you spoke of death so easily that it brought unease in her heart, your view of your place in her court far too wrong, too easily discarded. Daenerys opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off when Daario interrupted the sure to be awkward parting had he not came.

“Best to get some rest, Khaleesi.” You nodded, sending a sharp look to the man over her shoulder that had Daenerys glancing at the interaction with more interest than at the statements of the raid ready in his mind – though you knew it wasn’t the only thing residing there. She allowed him to escort her back, albeit begrudgingly, her eyes tracing over your frame as she reflected on your well-being.

↭

She knew it wasn’t ‘just a cut’.

The next morning, she’d sent some bottles of medicines into your tent with a roll of paper that commanded you to take them or else you’d be stripped from your armour.

You chuckled, shaking your head at the little threat she slipped in. That woman has a knack for the dramatics.

↭↯↭

Mereen was a place you could survive never stepping your foot into. It was a sight to watch the city surrender as fast as it did, to watch people, humans, with chains around their necks like animals – Daenerys hadn’t felt a kind of sick so tremendous than that moment, and she’d had a fair share of horrendous. It felt brief, passed in a blink of an eye and before you knew it, you were inside the city, new orders and a new Queen ruling at the top of the tower, though your duties had increased with the amount of protests and riots some of the masters started.

The new settings didn’t stop Daario to win over her majesty, however – if anything, he’d seen it as an opportunity, now that they were settling down in one place for a while. And to say you were doing fine would be an understatement. What they saw with their bare eyes was nothing compatible to the fury blossoming in your chest each time the man so much as touch her hands. You tried to tell yourself that it was merely your job; to be protective of your Queen, and it had nothing to do with the growing, uncontrollable endearment in your heart.

Memories of those fleeting moments of closeness flashed in your mind and you cursed yourself, shaking your head in silence to rid of the images. It doesn’t mean anything – nothing means anything, for her attention was only just, one that would be replaced onto a handsome (in her opinion, anyway), better warrior than you. You dreaded the day it’d come, so letting yourself bask in the flutters of butterflies in your stomach and the skips of your heart for however long she’d let you wasn’t wrong, was it?

Losing yourself in a spar was easy; but getting lost in the pools of violet was easier, like sinking into a serene pool of water, which was why you’d tripped over yourself when you caught her eyes from across the pitch, her dress flowing behind her as she strolled lightly toward the training soldiers.

It was a graceful fall, as Daenerys had put it in her mind, her gaze trailing your form as you righted yourself before the sight was blocked by none other than a proud Daario. If anyone was being honest, the silver-haired woman was getting tired of his endless flirting and interruption on her precious moments – though she didn’t have the heart to tell him just that.

“My Queen! Gracing us with your lovely presence?” You gripped the wooden spear in your hand tightly, dragging your foot through the sand to join your gaze with hers – lost again, it was becoming a habit now, like visiting a secret safe place only you knew of. Hitting the back of his knees, you rolled your eyes and Daenerys caught a quirk of your lips as she chuckled at your act of indifference, ignoring Daario doubling over and scoffing at you.

“You’re welcome to watch me kick ass.” His arrogant smirk was one you wished to wipe off, and you’d do just that – he didn’t know it yet, though.

It was well past noon, the sun floating close to the ground, only half of it visible to the eye and the humid air was soon to be swapped by a soft breeze of the nightfall. Most royals would be expecting their baths drawn in their rooms, preparing for dinner and a warm bed by the end of the night – not Daenerys, no. She was raised in exile, by people who had no more than enough money for food, let alone servants. She was a widow of a Khal, and though she did have.. friends, it wasn’t a custom she allowed herself to get used to. The Queen preferred to walk the field, a moment of peace in between meetings and calls from the people, an intake of fresh air after escaping those bland, dirty walls that carried a stench she couldn’t rid of.

Personally, Daenerys had never fancied watching fights; weapons dangerous enough to kill, violence, bloody matches – if she could choose, she’d never put herself in any situation that required combat.

But with you there, she might’ve made an exception. This day, while the city retired for the night, the Queen was outside, anticipating the battle her knights put on just for her; to win her affection, bragging rights, what was it? Daenerys couldn’t remember the reason behind it, yet they were doing it anyway. She might as well enjoy it.

“Does your bed get cold at night, Your Grace?”

And there he went, off to whatever world he’d made up where seamlessly hitting on his Queen was acceptable while engaged in a combat with her most skilled fighter. Daenerys shook her head, eyes focused on the wooden sticks you were using as weapons, your swift parries and calculated attacks sending blows against him.

“The dragons kept it warm enough. I could lend you Rhaegal if you’re interested?” Your foot caught his ankle and the man stumbled, giving you enough time to stab his chest. Raising your eyebrows, you began to wonder if Daenerys was genuinely honest in her offer.

“I could think of other options to keep my bed warm.” You’d carve his smirk off his face if you could. The best concern for the time being was only to win, though, and it wasn’t as hard when he was distracted – as you were, but worse. Everyone, and you meant every single soul held some form of knowledge on his intentions with the Queen of Mereen, herself included.

“If you’d volunteer to be my children’s next meal, sure.” Daario took her lack of refusal as a win, a cocky grin appearing on his face even when he was obviously straining and losing in the battle.

“I’d have a feast before going, then. W-” His words were cut off from his tongue, the sudden attack too aggressive and rough that he stumbled a few steps back before being brought to his knees, air no longer supplying his lungs.

The audience, whatever was left to gather around to witness a boring match, stood rigidly in silence, surprise written in most faces at the turn of events. They’d never seen you, the person they looked up to, one of the best combatant they’d ever met, the stoic, calm and one that radiated control, lose it over a comment your comrade made. You were always a calculated leader, in battles or not. The air in which you carried yourself in was worshipped by a lot, your elegant yet deadly way of cutting through enemies had oftentimes became a topic of admiration.

It was so silent that your hushed whisper on his ears could be heard resonating throughout the field.

“Be careful. You might lose your head faster than you can blink.”

Girls would’ve swooned at the show of dominance you were putting on, and Daenerys would be lying if she claimed to be unaffected by the action. Daario had a look that showcased how terrified he was to be at the receiving end of your gaze; one that looked ready to demolish him. He wasn’t about to test the theory as he gasped for air the moment your grip was removed, opening his mouth to make another joke to ease the tension.

You held up your hand, “I don’t want to hear it.” Taking a deep breath, you spared Daenerys only a glance, your head bowed down in shame as you all but bolted away from the field.

↭↯↭

Perhaps you shouldn’t have heeded her request of seeing you this late into the night, words on how to express your regret already circling in your mind as you crossed the halls to her chambers.

Daenerys was standing by the windows, her nightgown flowing with the breeze and her hair cascading down her back in curly waves. Your footsteps signaled your arrival, her head turning to catch a glimpse of your silhouette but she did nothing else to regard your presence.

Clearing your throat, you started with the rehearsed words on your tongue.

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I-”

“Call me Daenerys.” You gulped, mouth opening and closing repeatedly, apologies now stuck in your throat. Your foot was locked in place, settling a few paces behind her.

“That would be highly inappropriate-”

“You attacked Daario.” She remained facing the starless sky, her arms crossed as she enjoyed how worked up you were getting. A part of her almost felt remorse in relishing in the sight. Almost. You trudged toward her, foot stomping against the stone floor in your rare display of ire.

“And I already apologized for it.” At last, her head turned to meet your narrowed eyes, an amused smile on her lips as she bit down to it, giggles already sounding from the back of her throat and threatening to break through. Your gaze softened and you sagged in realization, pursing your lips while Daenerys tried to control her breathing, her shoulders shaking with the amount of mirth she was holding.

“You’re infuriating, Your Grace.” She burst out laughing at that, the view of your chest puffed up in rage and your eyes rolling at her obvious play with you was a sight to behold. Her cheeks were a shade of pink from all the hoots of laughter, hands clutching her stomach.

Daenerys clicked her tongue and shook her head, “That’s no way to talk to your Queen.” She was heaving for breath, now leaning her hips on the windowsill for support when you decided enough was enough.

You took a bold step toward her, the space between you thinning along with the sound of her giggles as they dropped into small puffs of breath. “Didn’t you tell me to call you Daenerys?” Perhaps a part of your brain was thinking irrationally, still riding from the high of your fury hours before. Otherwise, you didn’t know where the sudden push of insanity that barricaded into you had came from. You stopped a few inches from her, your tunic brushing against her gown, the proximity was almost enough to drive Daenerys into losing her mind.

She felt your fingers ghost her cheek as you tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and in a fleet of selfishness, she let herself lean into your touch. “I wonder who else was given the privilege.” By who else, you meant Daario, and Daenerys was quick to catch onto it. No one, she wished to say, No one but you, yet she was silent, tongue darting to wet her lips as her eyes traced yours.

Your hand threaded through her silver locks and it was only another second before she balled her fist on your coat and yanked you forward, her lips finally catching yours in a searing kiss. Her heart thrummed against her ribcage, blood rushing to her brain and a savoring warmth bloomed in her chest. Your lips were cold against hers, and as she pecked them again, swiped her tongue over it, basking in the taste of you, she felt her warmth melding in and smearing off the icy flavour. Daenerys could drown in the feeling forever, if only she was allowed to.

“That was thoroughly not appropriate.” You pulled away just as she leaned in, chest heaving with every intake of air you took. Daenerys gave you a deadpanned look, her well-kissed lips pressed in a thin line and hand gripping your arm so tight it might leave a mark. Her hair had become so messy from your work, and it felt only fair that your clothes was all crumpled from her grasps and tugs at it.

“Not at all.”

It wasn’t the answer you were expecting, nor was it one that made any sense, given both your positions and state. But she pulled you in again, kisses chaste and eyes closed, her arms circling around to press every inch of your skin against hers.

Nothing was making sense, not when all of your senses were overloaded to the brim, violet eyes and silver hair filling your vision – you stopped asking questions when you part again, and it was now her turn as she chased after the feeling that effortlessly made her drunk on the first sip.

A mess. Both of you. Her grip was relentless as you stepped away, refusing to budge even as you pulled them off yourself.

“Rest up, Your Grace. I believe you have an important meeting tomorrow.” She couldn’t recall if that was the truth, in fact, she couldn’t think of anything at all.

Now you’re the one being infuriating. Daenerys gaped at your retreating back, her knees buckling as her door clicked close before you burst through it once again. You strode to her hastily, lips meeting hers once, twice, before they latched onto her cheek and you were out in a blink, your victorious smile the last thing she caught.

The Queen exhaled, chest tight and vision swimming as she fell not-so-gracefully onto her bed. Oh, she’s so fucked.

korean-japanese women yuri is trending on twitter because korean and japanese women don't like the men in their respective countries they're making yuri about korean women and japanese women dating each other wow what a time to be alive

thinking about princess reader and royal knight rhaenyra…

as the young princess of dorne, tourneys were nothing new to you. you’d never really cared for them, finding the blood and violence unnecessary and borderline barbaric. when you could you would beg your mother to come up with an excuse to your father to let you stay at the palace, citing sickness, weariness, anything.

but this time you had no choice. because as your family entered into the royal watching booth, politely greeting the members of your father court, your father stops before extending his hand to your guest - king viserys of westeros himself.

you’d heard many things about him, partially from overhearing your mothers gossip and from the workers talking a little too loudly when you’d sneak in the kitchens. you obviously knew he was a targaryen, his long silver gold hair and peculiar eyes telling anyone with a short distance of his heritage.

but more importantly you’d heard that he was a mostly kind and generous king, with a large portion of his people happy under his reign. there was no better option for your father to invite to his event.

you gracefully presented yourself to him, smiling when he kissed the back of your hand and gave you a polite compliment. he introduced his wife, the beautiful queen aemma, and his vibrant young son baelon who excitedly shook his hand at you and everyone else in the booth.

after the introductions everyone say down to let the people know the tourney could commence, cheers ringing as you settled into place in front of your father and next to rosalei, one of the fellow younger ladies in court who was your closest friend ever since she snuck some sugared treats to your room when the head cook had banned you from them for a week.

the even was like any other : knights got in their horses, they picked up giant sticks, then ran at each other on said horses with said sticks and tried to knock the other man down. yet again the event did nothing to entertain you, focusing on the small conversation you were keeping up with rosalei while paying attention to the ones around you. for now, your father and his guest had discovered their shared love for the histories and had veered to the animosity but occasional generosity between their people.

your father is close to getting on to the topic of a equally beneficial trade deal when whispers from the small folk take over the crowd, some standing up and pointing at a contender who had entered the fighting area. you bend over the edge of the booth to catch a look, ignoring your mother chastising your posture and manners.

it’s a knight everyone’s looking at, that’s true, but a knight unlike you’ve ever seen before. their armor is black and scarily imposing, a beautiful construction of steel with strong pleats and swoops. their horse is somehow darker than the armor, black as knight with a bright sun medallion around its neck. its only then you notice the flag in their hand, along with the dragon emblems on their armor.

"you have a competing knight, your grace?" you ask, turning your head around when you are only met with silence. the visiting kings face is red, smile so forced it looks like he’s going to quickly gain a cramp in his jaw. the queen is resting a hand on his shoulder, subtly trying to comfort him while they exchange hushed whispers.

“said…show strength…not what i meant-“

the queen tries to comfort him more before they look in your direction, along with every one else in your booth. your body goes rigid for a second before you realize they’re looking behind you, turning your body to see what was so intriguing.

the targaryen knight, poised right beneath the opening of the booth, helmeted head and joust sword tipped towards you. and even without being able to see their face you know their eyes are trained on you.

you can also tell that everyone is waiting for you to do something. so with all the farce you can muster you gently pick up your favor, raising it high enough for the people to see, and let it slide down onto the joust.

no further words are shared, the warrior staying in place for a few more seconds before goading their horse back into position. as you watch you plop back into your seat, breathing slightly stuttering at the encounter while your friend pokes and prods for an explanation for whatever that was.

even if you had the time you wouldn’t be able to say much, feeling like a warm thick jelly has suddenly made its home inside your throat. put of the corner of your you can see one of the kings guards looking at you, but before you can turn to look back at him the sudden roars of the crowd snap your attention to the game.

almost like a bolt of lighting does the warrior speed down the jousting lane, sword aimed steady at the burly man who had bested most of the other men in the contest. just when his sword is aimed inches away from the knight, then bend their body dangerously close to falling off of their horse before thrusting at just the right moment to knock the man down, the sound of galloping hooves and crunching metal all you can hear.

the cheers from the commoners is near deafening, but all you can focus on is the knight, who instead of basking in the success and praise is yet again looking in your direction. but looking back at the aghast king viserys, you can’t exactly tell who they are trying to impress.

after congratulating and thanking the people for coming and competing, and giving a personal thanks to the king for making his way down to your kingdom, your father dismisses everyone to enjoy the other tourney activities while the royal families go to prepare for later celebrations. after giving the royal family of westeros a quick goodbye, you grab rosealai’s hand and hurry out of the booth to grab a quick bite from one of the fair booths and to try to talk all you can about what just happened.

but right before you ca leave the booth you’re stopped in your tracks, no one other than the black knight standing in front of you. you blink up at them, waiting for them to speak before their hands raise to take off their helmet to reveal themselves . it’s almost in slow motion that you take in every part of their face - a soft angled jaw, pink lips, a broad nose, short silver hair -

“rhaenyra! finally, please show a bit of grace to our hosts and introduce yourself.” king viserys comes up beside you, gently scooting beside you to wrap an arm around the armored shoulders of the knight. “the last impression i’ll have my daughter making is that she’s yet another rude and british knight.”

neither of you move however, gazes locked and bodies still. only about a thousand thoughts are running through your head at the current moment.

the knight is a woman. the knight is an attractive woman. the knight is princess rhaenyra. princess rhaenyra who came up to your booth and quietly asked for your favor.

without a word spoken or breaking ye contact, the heavy hand of the princess grabs yours, physically strong but gently soft, bringing it up slowly before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

you’ve always been able to keep your composure in the face of extreme emotions, a necessary trait as a royal who had to make quick and harsh decisions. sadly that all seems to be going out the window as you feel your cheeks warm and your breathing get faster.

“it is an honor to meet you, princess. and even greater an honor to win a competition with your favor. i hope similar opportunities make themselves available in the future.”

her voice is melodic yet curt, no room for doubt or wrongful interpretation. you break her gaze to look down at her lips, looking back up to see her doing the same before a sly smile appears on her face.

clearly the moment goes on a little too long for comfort, the king further ushering his daughter to greet your father and mother after giving the two of you a worried look. when her body passes yours you can feel her hand discreetly brush against your side, shivering slightly at the cold of the steel even through the fabrics of your dress.

your father quickly motions for one of his guard to guide you back to the castle before turning to your guests with a welcoming but greedy smile. you can feel rosalei’s barey contained excitement as you rush out of the entryway, not before looking back one last time and seeing purple eyes already trained on your body.

maybe tourneys weren’t so boring after all.

can you tell i don’t really know shit about tourneys. sorry if some things are inaccurate i’m getting everything through hotd, asoiaf wiki, and tiktok’s 💔

hear me out , college smau / au with Minji being nerdy loser girl 🫠

“Freak.”

Nerd!Kim Minji x Mean!Reader

Synopsis: You have to be grouped with the smartest girl for your economics course for a few months. Being someone who hates pulling their weight you try to convince her to do the project by herself, with no avail.

A/N: my first attempt at a SMAU and this is most definitely a one shot because I am getting an aneurism using MEMI.