#Blissful week 💖

[steeleyespan]

seeing pulp on friday on me birthday and belle and Sebastian on sunday :) got to see my dog my son my baby boy today :) & my mams garden is so pretty and has New Flowers for me to inspect plus my rockery i sorted out last year has grown in and looks slay (#sedumandsaxifrage gang) :)

^ the baby boy in question. Stinky

[trahoalai]

spent my weekend making tiramisu bc Im still upset over the ad for a fake dessert social. it has rum and ladyfingers and all the good stuff

[magistralucis]

@absolut--kurant!

Sound on

[ellecdc]

hi gorgeous!! I love your writings so much :)

I was wondering if u could request a poly!marauders x fem!reader who just loves baking so much and keeps leaving the boys little treats around the house depending on what each boy likes and they’re just so lovestruck for her, just like lots of fluff and them being the lover boys they are

thank you so much <3

this is so sweet! thanks for requesting, I hope you love it!! 💖

poly!marauders x fem!reader who loves to bake

James walked in to the flat and was immediately bombarded with the smell of freshly baked goods. One would think after three weeks of you living with them that he would have grown accustomed to it, but the expression on his face grew into what he could only imagine was pure, unadulterated bliss at the welcoming aroma that he could only describe as distinctly you. 

He’d hardly gotten his shoes off and hung his jacket before Pads was yanking him past the kitchen and into the living room.

“Sshh! Don’t interrupt, just watch.” Sirius stressed and he forced James to kneel on the sofa facing the window into the kitchen. James had half a mind of squawking at him but couldn’t deny the beautiful picture this painted.

“He’s been in there with her all day.” Sirius offered as James watched Remus follow you around the kitchen as if the two of you had been charmed into magnets, and he was hopelessly drawn to you. Apparently, you were either unaware of his proximity or unfazed by it. James didn’t blame you at all, though; he often felt drunk in love when Remus was paying that much attention to him too. He also felt drunk in love when watching you do anything at all. He was sort of drunk in love having Sirius’ arm wrapped around his waist right now.

James was just always drunk in love.

“What could she possibly be making now? I’ve not even finished all the apple turnover’s she made for me!” James murmured, though his concern was belittled by the raging grin spreading across his face.

“I haven’t finished the ginger snaps she made for me either, but she’s making Rem chocolate croissants.” He stage-whispered.

“Oh my gods, that sounds heavenly.” James whispered back, watching Remus make heart eyes at you as you explained something to him; the poor sod wasn’t even paying attention to the instructions. James couldn’t blame him, however, when the instructor was as pretty as you. “Think he’ll share with us?”

“Fat chance.” Remus called from kitchen, apparently privy to the whispered conversation going on in the room next to him. You looked up surprised at Remus’ interjection, apparently not having heard the dialogue.

“What?” You asked innocently, though your brows furrowed in concern – you knew better when it came to these boys. 

“Moony says he won’t share the croissants with us, dollface.” Sirius lamented, putting on his best kicked puppy impression. You seemed to melt a little bit at that, but Remus – the bastard – pressed up against you and shoved his nose in the crook of your neck, causing you to melt even more than Sirius could hope from such a distance.

“Oi – foul! Come on!” James cried at the unfair advantage Remus had.

“You boys still have your treats, don’t you?” You asked quietly, clearly more than a little embarrassed at how easily you were swayed by Remus loving-up on you. James almost felt bad about being petulant. Almost.

But not quite.

“Everything you make is so wonderful and filled with love though, angel.” He pouted. Remus groaned in exasperation, though he never bothered to peel himself off of your back.

“Fine. You sods can have some.”

James and Sirius both cheered from their spots on the couch as if they’d been watching football on the telly.

“We’re going to have to get those blood test thingies to watch our blood sugar, though.” Sirius commented.

“Worth it.” Remus and James said in unison. 

[notjustjavierpena]

I just wanted to come on here and say that I really appreciate you choosing to write about wife’s strained relationship with her family. As someone also struggling with that part of their life it’s beautiful to see that even if one part of your life is not great one can find beauty and love in another and create their own family.

The life that Javi and Wife have build together is an immense privilege to read.

Solace (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Hi anon, I have gotten a few of these messages a few times and it makes me wonder if they are from the same person. If not, it feels incredibly privileged to give people this kind of comfort through fiction. I tried writing a little drabble for you, and I hope that you like it. I’m so sorry that your family cannot see how amazing you are 💖

Summary: A certain kind of sorrow hits you when you are alone with your infant son for the first time.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Angst, hurt/comfort, exploration of strained relationship with family, non-descriptive talk about emotional neglect, kisses, tears and eternal love.

Word count: 1.5k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52937182/chapters/152266855

Solace

It’s been a long day. That’s all there is to say when Javier walks through the door with a cheerful smile as he sees you on the couch, cross-legged and rocking newborn Lucas in your arms as he sleeps soundly.

It has been a week of being trapped inside a blissful baby bubble together, cocooned in the wonder of being a family of three for the first time. However, today the reality of everyday life has finally caught up with you both. It has been the first time you have been without your husband here to help and at the same time, you haven’t been alone with your thoughts since earning your new role as a mother yet.

You hate to see Javier’s smile falter as tears fall from your eyes in relief from seeing him, have never wanted to be the reason he doesn’t smile when reunited with you and his baby boy. It has probably been on his mind since he locked up the sheriff’s office.

He doesn’t say a word, just drops his bag and crosses the room in what seems to be only a few long strides. When he reaches you, he drops down to one knee on the floor next to you on the couch. He is so sweet when he brushes a tear from your cheek, catching one that threatens to drop onto Lucas’ onesie too.

“You did so well today,” he praises softly, switching to use the back of his hand when several teardrops start to roll down your already streaked face. He finds that it isn’t enough and quickly unbuttons the sleeve on his dress shirt with his teeth to use the fabric to dab your face dry, “Shh, baby, I’m here now.”

You wish it was only the exhaustion of being alone with Lucas the whole day that was bearing down on you but it is not. Instead, it is a much deeper ache that has racked through your body and soul today, an ache that you’ve known for years and do not know how to soothe.

“I missed you,” you whisper to Javier. You let out a shaky breath, trying to hold it together in case a sob will disturb Lucas in his sleep. He sleeps on so peacefully, completely unaware of the overwhelming emotions in the room. You reach to run your finger over his little cheek, admiring the faint dark hair on his head.

In front of you, Javier pushes himself off the ground to sit beside you on the couch. He looks at you with a gentle understanding in his eyes and then down at his son before wrapping an arm around your back. You tilt your head to rest it on his shoulder, becoming more aware of his warmth.

“I missed you too, Mamá. You’re exhausted, let me take him,” he whispers back, rubbing your arm soothingly, “Has it been that crazy today?”

“No, it’s been fine,” you say quickly because it is the truth; Lucas is an easy baby compared to so many stories that other people have been telling you in preparation, thinking that they’re being helpful. You gently make the transfer, careful not to drop his head and shift him into Javier’s arms, “He’s been so good to me.”

“But?” Javier cradles his infant son in his arm while the other still wraps around you.

“But I didn’t expect… to miss my mom,” you reply with shame coating your voice. You feel Javier’s hand stop tracing your arm, his body pulling slightly away from you to look at you properly. There’s a questioning look on his face, furrowed brows.

“Your mom?” He asks in confusion.

“Yeah, well… not her, clearly,” you clarify with a little embarrassed smile that won’t convince anyone that you’re not hurting from saying it like that, “I just realized how alone I am in this. And I’m not saying that you’re not doing enough but… I just wish I had a mom who was different.”

Javier doesn’t reply for a moment, patiently waiting for you to elaborate without judgment on his face. You swallow thickly, “I’ve been alone all day and I kept wishing she could be the kind of mother who would come over and hold Lucas while I take a nap, who would reassure me that I’m doing it right, that I’m a good enough mom.”

You hear Javier say your name softly while you look down into your lap, a feeling of relief and sadness mixing together in your chest. It feels good to say it but it doesn’t fix the gaping pain in your heart of what could have been. You pick at your fingers and finally, tears start to fall down onto your shirt, no longer able to drip onto your baby, “I just… It would have been really nice to have had a mom who felt like I feel about Lucas.”

Javier drags you closer. You automatically curl up beside him, pulling your legs up onto the couch and turning your body towards your husband. You reach out for Lucas to brush a hand over his stomach, his little mouth hanging open and his chest moving steadily.

“I look at Luke and I just instinctively think that I would do anything to keep him from hurting. Why didn’t she feel like that? Why did I get the mom who hurt me?” You babble through silent tears, once more keeping a sob at bay for your son, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even sit here and complain. I know it’s not fair— at least, I have a mom, and you—“

Javier’s fingers that have been resting on your arm slide up to cradle the side of your head, guiding you to fall carefully into him until he can press his lips to your temple. He takes a breath and sighs, “You’re not all alone in wanting more. We can both grieve what we didn’t have. Even if it’s for different reasons.”

“I know,” you look down at Lucas with softening eyes, wiping a few tears away but they’re just replaced with new ones, “But what if I am bound to become her? I sometimes feel like she’s contaminated me.”

Yet as you have said those words, Lucas makes a noise in his sleep and you are on him in less than a second. You reach to put your finger in his small flexing hand, a rush of dopamine flowing through you from merely touching him. You smile through tears.

Javier says your name again to get your attention. He also shifts slightly so he can lift your head by your chin, eyes sure as he talks, “How you feel… I know I can’t fix it, but I can tell you that you are the mom he needs and deserves. Every worry or sleepless night you endure for him is proof of that. You are doing so well by just being there.”

“Javi,” you whimper with a trembling voice.

“I’m not done. Listen to me,” he interrupts you before you can tear his words apart, “He’ll never wonder how much you love him. Not with the way you’re looking at him right now, not with how you reach for him the second he needs you. You think you are your past? If anything, you’ve taught me the exact opposite.”

His hand lets go of your chin to cup your chin. He brushes a tear away and leans in to rest his forehead against yours. You finally find the right words when you’ve released a breath you didn’t know you were holding, “That’s how I feel about you. That I never doubt how much you love me, not with how you’re looking at me right now.”

Javier smiles at you and you feel your heart flutter, nearly melting into the cushions as he replies, “Tú y yo para siempre, mi amor (You and me forever, my love).”

“Thank you,” you whisper and the tears on your face turn into gratitude in an instant. You give him a soft kiss on his mouth before the two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while on the couch together.

Lucas starts to stir fifteen minutes later. His tiny face scrunches up before he opens his mouth and lets out a soft fuss, yawning with the whole of his body. You reach instinctively for him but Javier tuts at you.

“Let me take care of him for a while, Mamá,” he says with a tone in his voice that always reassures you. Despite the intense desire to protest, you can feel your body already giving in at the idea of getting a break and the emotions from just a moment ago have tired you out.

“Okay,” you nod hesitantly and it earns you a loving kiss from your husband before he gets up. As he leaves you to sleep, you can hear him murmur softly to his son, mentioning you in the midst of his one-sided conversation. It sets it in stone; everything will be just fine and if Lucas were to forget you in the little time that you are apart, Javier will be there to remind him of you.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[edenesth]

MOOT GAME: " make up a trope for your moots and their biases. doesn’t need to be romantic. can be crackfic/funny/anything you want ^ㅇ(๑>◡<๑)ㅇ^ "

Dear Soulmate

I'm sorry it took me so long, anon! I didn't know how to approach this and was waiting for a friend to do it first🙈

For my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast💖

Choi San — soulmate au (idiots to lovers)

In a world where soulmates exist, most people discover their other halves before reaching twenty-five, you struggle to find yours, even when he had been right in front of you all along. You've witnessed those around you revelling in the bliss of finding their destined partners, all the while blindly awaiting your own.

"I cannot believe this, I'm dying alone!" you cried.

"Pooks, he'll come when the timing's right, I just know it," Eve, your closest friend and platonic soulmate, reassured you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you poured out your frustration. Despite being on the cusp of turning 26, your soulmate remained elusive.

"How did you and Hwa find each other again?" you asked, desperate for answers.

Eve sighed, "Whenever one of us gets hurt, a flower tattoo appears on the other in the same spot of their body. You know how clumsy I am, he found me through those blossoms. But each soulmate pair has their own unique connection. Haven't you felt anything special?"

See, in this world with soulmates, each pair discovers their connection in their own way. There's no universal formula, and you despised that fact vehemently. It only added unnecessary complexity to the already challenging quest for love.

Your parents had found each other through their inner voices, where their internal voices are the other's instead of their own. Your sister had found her soulmate through a compass on her body that led her to where her other half is.

And then there was you. Nothing. Nada. Niente. Absolutely nothing at all.

And as your birthday drew near this year, panic set in. You'd soon be a year older than the age when most people found their soulmates. Maybe you didn't have one, maybe he died, maybe he got aborted as a foetus, maybe—

"Woah, woah, just take a deep breath, everything will be okay," your friend reassured, trying her best to help in any way possible, "Hey, didn't you say you've been having a lot of dreams lately? And it's always that same dream?"

You blew a raspberry in frustration, "Yeah, but I doubt my recent dreams have anything to do with my soulmate, assuming I even have one. They're always about that art museum I go to on weekends. I think it's just because I spend so much time there."

She pondered for a moment, "Wait a minute, didn't you mention that San guy you always see there? What if—"

"Oh, hell no," you exclaimed, shuddering at the possibility of that annoyingly gorgeous mountain of a man being your destined lover, "I'd rather be alone forever than end up with someone like him."

It all happened on a day when you sought solace at the museum after a taxing week at school. Exhausted from dealing with incompetent classmates and antagonistic professors, you longed for a moment of peace as you approached your cherished spot in the corner. But to your dismay, you discovered an ignorant man occupying not just one seat, but the entire bench with his belongings. And not just any bench, your bench, the one everyone knew better than to occupy.

So you did the first thing that came to mind, you might have uttered some unkind words out of irritation. Looking back, you acknowledge it was all very unnecessary, considering it was likely his first visit to the museum and he clearly didn't realise it was your spot. However, your pride prevented you from admitting fault.

Consequently, he responded with equal unpleasantness. Even the museum guards had to intervene before things escalated into a fight. Like dealing with children, they persuaded both of you to share the bench since there was clearly more than enough space for two.

You adamantly refused to yield your spot and relocate, asserting your presence since you were here first. Similarly, it seemed his foolish pride prevented him from budging as well; thus, you both found yourselves locked in a silent standoff, exchanging wary glances as you engaged in a weekly silent war.

"Ugh, was hoping I wouldn't have to see your face today," San sneered, earning a glare from you as you settled down beside him. You were running slightly late, having trouble getting up after yet another frustrating dream, one slightly more annoying than usual.

Deliberately nudging his bag aside with irritation, you narrowed your eyes, "You wish, loser. This spot is mine, and it's staying that way."

He smirked in response, "Someone's in a foul mood, but then again, when are you not? Hope it's not because of that dream where your precious bench gets snatched away for good."

"Shut the hell up—"

You stopped short, a sudden realisation hitting you like a ton of bricks. You hadn't shared that dream with anyone, not even Eve. No one should know about it except... No freaking way. He couldn't possibly be the one you've been waiting for all this time. It seemed too absurd to be true. Why, out of all people, would fate pair you with this insufferable, infuriating, irksome yet undeniably attractive, bastard?

"Surprise, genius. It's me, your soulmate."

"I knew," he confessed, his voice carrying frustration and resignation, "I knew from the moment I saw you that you were my other half. That's why I came here in the first place, why I was in this exact spot."

Your breath hitched as his words sank in. All this time, he had known, yet he had still chosen to engage in your petty conflicts.

"But when I met you," he continued, "I was excited, hopeful even. But your attitude, your stubbornness... it's unbearable. As much as I feel the pull towards you, I can't ignore how immensely annoyed I am by your behaviour."

His words landed like a punch to the gut.

"I know that if I had a choice in who my soulmate is," he admitted, his gaze intense, "it would never be you."

After a moment of processing his words, you gritted your teeth in anger, "Well, joke's on you, buddy. I don't want you either. Maybe it would be best for both of us if you stop showing up here from now on."

Days turned into weeks, and true to your request, San ceased his visits to the museum. At first, you felt a strange sense of relief, but soon, that relief morphed into a tumult of conflicting emotions.

You didn't know how to feel. Did you truly mean what you said, or were those words simply born out of anger? Your emotions were a tangled mess. On one hand, you had just turned away your soulmate after yearning for his presence for so long. On the other hand, you couldn't shake the resentment that it had to be him, of all people. Part of you longed to be near him, to reconcile and embrace your destiny. But another part recoiled at the thought, recoiled at the frustration his presence brought.

Unbeknownst to you, San wasn't doing much better. His heart felt hollow, the absence of your presence leaving a gaping void. He tried to carry on with his life as before, but the weight of your rejection hung heavy on his shoulders. But his pride also kept him from reaching out to you.

He suppressed the pull towards you, buried it beneath layers of denial and indifference. But no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, your essence lingered in his dreams, haunting him with visions of what could have been.

Then, one day, fate intervened in a way neither of you could have predicted. You fell ill with food poisoning and ended up in the hospital. In a panic, San saw it in his dream, a vision of you lying pale and weak in a hospital bed. Without hesitation, he raced to your side, his heart pounding with fear. As he stood in the hospital room, watching over you, he realised the depth of his feelings. Despite everything, he couldn't deny the truth any longer. You were his soulmate, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing you.

You furrowed your brows at his unexpected appearance, "What the hell are you doing here? Who invited you?"

His heart sank at your coldness, but before he could form a response, Eve intervened, giving you a playful smack on the shoulder, "Stop it, you! He came all this way, and you're still going to be mean to him?" Turning to San with a warm smile, she continued, "You must be San! I'm Eve, her best friend. It's nice to finally meet you. Oh, and please don't take her words to heart. She likes to pretend as if she hadn't been dying to see you again."

Blushing furiously at her blunt revelation, you shot her a glare, but she simply tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "Behave yourself. I'll be back shortly after settling the bill with Hwa," she said, brushing past San. As she passed him, she gave a polite nod, "Please take care of her for me, won't you?"

"Of course, Eve," he replied, nodding in return.

As soon as your friend left the room, he took a step closer, his tone serious, "Listen, I'm tired of playing games. I came here because I realised I can't bear to lose you again. So, tell me if you feel the same right now. If you still want me gone, I'll leave and never show my face around you ever again."

His words struck a chord, and you couldn't hold back the tears any longer. He couldn't resist the pull any longer, sitting down beside you on the bed and wrapping his arms around you. Relief flooded through him as he felt you relax in his embrace.

"I don't want to lose you again either. I'm sorry I was an idiot," you whispered.

"You should be," he teased, planting a kiss on your hair, "But I'm sorry too. Perhaps I should have told you who I was from the start. Let's just... not say things we don't mean and hurt each other again, okay?"

You nodded, squeezing him tightly, "Okay, Sannie."

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[waynes-multiverse]

Love On The Brain

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: Dean and Y/N – hunting partners, bunker roommates & idiots in love. Sam is fed up with their constant “will they/won’t they” bullshit and decides to move things along with his own plan until these two fated lovers’ paths finally cross one night – naked.

Warnings: +18, smut (mentions of masturbation f & m, oral f, fingering, p in v), crack of the adorkable kind, nudity, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: Happy V-Day, babes! 💖 The V stands for... Welp, you know me well enough by now to know where I’m going with this 😝 This is a lot of moronic crack mixed with some sweet smut and fluff. We all know how much I love the “idiots in love” trope, and I fully dove into this one. So, grab your glass of favorite liquor & let’s settle in, shall we? ❤️😘 Written for a request by @imagine-all-the-fandoms after making some adjustments. Found Rihanna’s Love on the Brain fitting for this one, so that’s what we went with as a general mood. Hope you enjoy, m’ladies! 🖤

Feedback is highly appreciated! Get me drunk on it and fill my writer’s juice 🤓🥃

Main Masterlist | Dean Winchster Masterlist

Freedom! Thank fucking God…

Y/N exhales a blissful sigh as she saunters to the Dean Cave with a bag of still-hot microwave popcorn in her arms. The Winchester brothers have decided on a little overnight road trip to the next, bigger town over to see a movie – and for some brotherly bonding or whatever – which means Y/N can finally enjoy some goddamn alone time in the bunker. Not that she doesn’t love Sam and Dean to bits and pieces, especially the latter one. They are like family to her, the only one she’s ever truly known, but even family can grow exhausting sometimes.

Living with two boys can grow exhausting, honestly, so Y/N has decided to spend her alone time doing a bunch of girly shit she can’t do with Tweedledee and Tweedledum around – at least not without enduring some judgmental looks.

So, first on the agenda? Watching a bunch of chick flicks, aka any movie the oldest Winchester wouldn’t approve of. Mean Girls, Clueless, 10 Things I Hate About You, You’ve Got Mail, and so on – you get the gist.

The second order of business is a long-ass bathroom time for a little much-needed self-care, including a hot and relaxing bath with an abundance of pink bubbles and soap that smells like the goddamn Queen’s flower garden. Then she’s going to shave and wax… everything. Admittedly, things got a little hairy in recent weeks. There wasn’t a lot of time between hunts and sharing close quarters with two men in motel rooms, and every time she did attempt a proper shave, Dean would yell outside the bathroom door, needing to pee or God knows what else, so she dropped the razor again. Honestly, it’s not like she’s being followed around by an array of suitors these days. It’s been months since anyone has seen her private parts or even her bare legs, including her. On the upside, at least her vibrator doesn’t mind the extra locks.

Oh God, she’s fucking sad, isn’t she? Yeah… It’s a sad affair all around, really.

Regardless, the mention of some self-love reminds her of her third to-do item on her list: sex. Well, technically masturbating to Ryan Gosling’s pictures. Maybe even Andrew Garfield, Sebastian Stan, that hot dude Jackson from Grey’s Anatomy… Leo in his prime. Brad Pitt – young and old. Seth Rogen… Whoa! Don’t judge, okay? It’s not all about looks. She loves when a guy can make her laugh, and his laugh is so sweet, deep, and… bear-y, alright?

Yeah, fine, she knows she needs to get fucked properly by a real dick instead of a fictional one – rather sooner than later before she goes for… the dick that’s been living right under the same roof, only three doors down from her own bedroom.

Shit.

Yep, Dean fucking Winchester – God of all Gods, monster hunter extraordinaire, hero of all innocent damsels, and idiotic clown of all clowns, shamelessly stole her heart since… well, pretty much the minute they met and she first laid eyes on him. It felt like being blinded by the sun, the golden freckles on his cheeks and nose resembling the twinkling, starry constellations in the night sky. In an instant, she was an unsuspecting, innocent moth to a blazing flame. How could she possibly resist that irresistible, boyish charm? There’s no vaccine against that green-eyed virus. She swears she’s seen women faint and gasp before him, and she certainly isn’t immune, either. No one truly is, not even other men, for crying out loud.

Unfortunately, Dean will never ever look at her in that way and see more than a friend in her. The thought alone is so ridiculous it makes her snort before she starts to uncontrollably sob and whine. But God, does she wish more than anything he could be hers and she could be his.

Admittedly, she feels a little lonely, especially with the ominous Valentine’s Day looming around the corner, or as Dean likes to call it – unattached drifter Christmas.

Dear fucking God, why did she have to fall in love with that dork? Why can’t it be some nice, normal guy without an abundance of commitment issues?

On the other hand, it’s a good thing the oldest Winchester isn’t here tonight, even though he’d probably love the fourth part of her evening: naturism.

Yup, walking around naked while you’re alone is the best fucking thing in the world and so goddamn freeing. Tits out. Let the ladies breathe a little, you know? Having the girls constantly locked up in bra prison is no way to go through life. And Y/N knows for sure Dean would not only agree with that sentiment but also highly support it. After all, he was the one that suggested Naked Tuesdays when she first moved in. Sam then established a rule that the oldest Winchester wasn’t allowed to “sexually harass” her. It was completely unnecessary but sweet nonetheless. Y/N knows Dean’s just a teasing goofball 99% of the time and would never seriously harm her or make her feel uncomfortable. In fact, she loves that the brothers are always looking out for her and have her best interest in mind.

So, as soon as she hears the big metal door of the bunker slam shut, Y/N excitedly begins her girl’s night alone, trying not to think too much about the green-eyed hunter and focusing on Gosling on the silver screen instead.

“So, this movie… is it like Zombieland?” Dean inquires with a wide grin, wiggling his eyebrows as he grabs a couple of beers and snacks from the fridge for their road trip to Wichita.

Sam’s brow furrows in confusion. “What? Dean, no… It’s not an action movie or a comedy. It’s an environmental documentary about how soil can counteract the climate crisis,” the younger Winchester explains, chuckling in amusement.

Dean’s face drops, his features morphing from excitement to shock as his eyes blink in rapid succession. “What?! But you said Woody Harrelson is in it! You lied to me!”

“Nooo,” Sam laughs, shaking his head, and corrects, “I said Woody Harrelson narrates it. It’s a good documentary. Trust me.”

“Fuck no! I don’t wanna watch a movie about dirt,” the older brother whines, his plump lips shaping into a pout. “Can’t we go see something with action and blood and guns? You know, something fun?”

“Dean, our whole life is action, blood, and guns. Would do you some good to care about the Earth and climate every once in a while,” Sam lectures him.

“Screw that! We’ve already saved the planet multiple times. All that Al Gore shit ain’t my problem,” Dean huffs, pops open a beer and takes a sip. “‘Sides, I don’t trust these environmental clowns. I know the first thing they’d wanna do is get rid of Baby, and then I swear I’m gonna start shootin’. I can’t stand for that insanity.”

“Fine,” Sam frowns and lets out a resigned sigh. “Then I guess you’ll have to stay here because I wanna watch that movie.”

“Fine by me,” Dean agrees with another sip of beer.

“Good. Since you’re not coming, I might even check out the Mid-America Fine Arts Museum,” Sam shares, the excitement gleaming in his hazel orbs.

“Yeah, nerd yourself out, little brother,” Dean snorts. “Did you know Wichita has a Pizza Hut Museum?”

“Uh-huh, yeah, you tell me that every time we go to Wichita, Dean,” Sam reminds him and suppresses the laugh. “Well, uh, have fun alone with Y/N then,” he smirks slyly, and Dean’s short-lived relief disappears as realization dawns, his brow knitting. “Who knows? Might even be a good opportunity for you to tell her you’re madly in love with her.”

“Wha-, uh, pffft, no?” Dean brushes his little brother’s lunatic accusations off the kitchen counter and awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, clearing the fluster in his throat. “Dude, are you drunk? I’m so not in love with her, alright? Don’t be ridiculous, okay? Do I find her incredibly hot, smart, sweet, brave, kind, adorable, and funny? Sure… That’s why she’s our friend, right? But that doesn’t mean I like… love “love” her, okay? At least not like that.” He forms sarcastic air quotes around the cursed word and grimly swallows his uncomfortableness and the lies down with a big gulp of beer. “And for crying out loud, keep your voice down when you say shit like that. I don’t want her to hear us,” he hisses, his green orbs nervously eyeing the kitchen door. “It’s echo-y in here, you know?”

“Sure, whatever you say, Dean,” Sam casually shrugs his shoulders, clearly not buying a single one of the green-eyed hunter’s words, and it only annoys the older Winchester more.

“Don’t-… Nuh-uh, don’t gimme that fake ‘whatever you say’ bullshit shtick. There’s really nothing going on, alright?” Dean assures anew, growing more irritated by the minute.

Sam twitches his shoulders once more and then cockily folds his arms over his chest, a teasing smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, so you won’t mind if I set her up with Matt, right? It’s just-… She seems a little lonely lately.”

“Lonely?” Dean arches an eyebrow in apprehension and scoffs, “She’s fine, Sam. She’s got us.”

Sam frowns for what feels like the hundredth time during this conversation. “Dean, you honestly don’t think that’s enough for her.”

“Why not?” The older Winchester shrugs, refusing to see clearly. “It’s enough for me. Our life is awesome. You don’t see me complaining.”

“Yes, you’re obviously the golden standard for healthy relationships,” Sam mutters sarcastically and rolls his eyes back.

Dean purses and smacks his plump lips, scratching the bit of scruff on his throat. “Well, uh… shut up, okay? And don’t set her up with Matt. The guy’s a douche.”

“Alright, what about Josh? You like Josh,” Sam suggests next.

“Yeah, as a hunting partner, he’s alright, not as a boy toy for our friend, Sam,” Dean grits bitterly and rolls his eyes, chugging the rest of his beer. “Seriously, what is wrong with you? You’re not her pimp. Just leave her alone, alright?”  

“Look, if you don’t wanna date her – fine. That’s on you. Just don’t stand in the way of her happiness because you can’t stop self-sabotaging yourself, man,” Sam argues with a judgmentally raised brow.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Dean grumbles, the offense clearly written in every deep wrinkle on his face.

“Uh-huh, whatever you say, Dean,” Sam deadpans and grabs his laptop bag, making his way out of the kitchen.

“Stop saying that!”

“Look, I’d love to discuss all your weird issues in detail with you, but I still have to pick up Eileen on my way to Wichita,” Sam notes nonchalantly as Dean trails behind him through the bunker’s corridors. “I’ve watched you two beat around the bush for years. It’s getting annoying. You guys are worse than Ross and Rachel.”

“Wait, Eileen? Did you plan all of this on purpose? Were you trying to trick me?” Dean’s voice rises with his exasperation. He hates when Sam puts his nose where it doesn’t belong, mainly in his business. It’s the typical little brother shit he had to deal with all his life. Siblings, man…

“Me? No, I would never,” his younger brother replies with feigned innocence, marching up the metal stairs to the exit, but Dean can hear the goddamn deceit in his words.

“I don’t believe you,” Dean grits with a sternly creased brow, narrowing his juniper eyes at his younger brother as he halts at the bottom of the steps.

“Okay, whatever you say, Dean,” Sam grins complacently and opens the door. “Just don’t be an idiot. Make the first move, alright? That’s all you need to do. Trust me. It’s gonna be fine. She likes you, too.”

With that, the youngest Winchester closes the door behind him, leaving Dean to ruminate in his convoluted misery.

The hunter then stomps through the hallways of the bunker, furiously mumbling to himself as he passes the Dean Cave on his way to his room. Hearing sounds coming from inside, he stops by the cracked door for a moment and realizes Y/N is watching a movie in there. He considers joining her before recognizing Gosling’s voice, a deep sigh leaving his lips. Of course, she’s watching chick flicks again, so he decides against his plan, knowing some silly rom-com could potentially be a slippery slope and lead to some dangerous innuendos.

He downright refuses to play into his little brother’s evil scheme. Sam’s not goddamn Lindsay Lohan, and this isn’t the fucking Parent Trap. It’s better and safer if Dean stays far away from Y/N for the entirety of Sam’s absence, so the hunter quietly retreats to his room.

Dean decided to watch a bunch of his favorite horror movies until late into the night, ignoring the boiling feelings under the surface. He then closes his laptop with a heavy sigh, ready to call it a night after a nice, warm shower.

With headphones on and some classic rock music drowning out his hammering thoughts, he takes off his clothes and wraps a towel around himself. During an earlier snack run to the kitchen, he noticed the Dean Cave had already been deserted, the room quiet and dark. Y/N luckily has withdrawn to her own room again, so he knows he won’t accidentally run into her. She still hasn’t left his mind, his head in a constant swirl since his stupid conversation with Sam.

So, naturally, Dean comes to the conclusion that only some self-completion down the shower drain might help to clear his thoughts and flush the huntress out of his mind for good. He’s not proud of it, but it’s certainly not the first time since he’s known her that he thinks about her while jerking off. Usually, it only happens when he has to spend too many nights in a row with her in a small motel room without a way to escape, but this time, though, he fully blames Sam and his big mouth for it.

Wandering down the hall to the bathroom, his head bobs to the rhythm of the music flowing through his ears, his green eyes fixed on his phone screen as he scrolls through his playlist. Mindlessly opening the door, he suddenly freezes as another body bumps straight into him.

It all happens pretty fast from there. There’s a loud, high-pitched shriek that filters through the music, his hand drops his phone, and his headphones fall down with it, severing the connection and leaving him in silence as his palms catch a taut-skinned body in his arms while the towel around his waist glides to the tiled floor. And then, he just stares into two big and shocked pupils, which are probably as wide as his own.

Fuck…

For a second, Dean feels incredibly exposed before noticing the warm skin that’s pressed flush against his own body. Yep, he doesn’t dare to check, but he’s certain Y/N’s completely naked, too.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…,” Y/N’s panicked voice chimes in his ears as both of them awkwardly avert their gazes in different directions to the ceiling and avoid eye contact at all costs while still clinging tightly onto each other, aware that if one of them moves, it’s game over and they’d see each other in their full glory. Basically, they’re each other’s damn shields – as uncomfortable as that may be. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”

“I, uh…” That’s when Dean realizes Y/N probably didn’t even know he stayed behind and let Sam go to Wichita alone. “Sam wanted to watch a documentary.”

“I know!” Y/N yells in annoyance and grits, “You were supposed to go with him! Granted, I was surprised you agreed to it in the first place, but still, you’re not supposed to be home!”

“He didn’t tell me it was a documentary about dirt, alright? Otherwise, it would’ve been a straight-up ‘no’ from the start,” Dean explains and tries not to get hard as he feels Y/N’s tits press against his chest. Judging by the precise feeling that’s poking him, she must be somewhat cold.

“Yes, he did! I was right there when you agreed,” Y/N argues. “He talked about it for over an hour.”

“Oh,” Dean stumps and clears his throat rather awkwardly. Who could blame him for not listening, huh?

“You never listen to people! It’s so goddamn annoying!”

“Y/N, you need to stop talking, sweetheart,” Dean begs her, squeezing his eyes shut as he concentrates on anything else for dear life.

Baseball, Sam drinking green smoothies, a scratch on Baby’s new coat of paint… He attempts to distract his mind from the unavoidable, but it’s no use. The skin-on-skin contact is his final nail in the coffin.

“Oh, I’m sure you would love that, wouldn’t you?” Y/N continues in a furious huff, “It’s not always about you–”

“Y/N, please… All that angry shaking isn’t helping, sweetheart.”

The huntress cocks an eyebrow high, almost reaching the messy bun on top of her head. “Helping with what?”

“Uhm…”

And that’s when he can’t control it any longer. There’s a distinctive twitch against her thigh, and he’s sure she’s felt it, too. Shit, shit, shit…

“Oooooh.” Y/N awkwardly presses her lips into a thin line, her fingertips tapping a nervous melody on his skin. Her single utterance makes his heart stop. It’s game over. She’s going to call him a gross perv, move out of the bunker, and then never speak to him again. “It’s-, uhm, it’s okay,” she says surprisingly, her head bobbing with a thick swallow as she reassuringly squeezes his biceps where her palms rest.

“Y/N, I’m-, uh… oh God… I’m so, so sorry,” he stammers, deciding to keep his eyes shut to escape some of the awkwardness.

“I-, no, it’s not-… This is a weird situation we’re in… It’s fine. Completely normal, right? Like, uhm, like a reflex?”

“Uh, yeah, guess so,” Dean gulps, his eyelids slowly fluttering open and gaze drifting back to the ceiling. It’s not a goddamn reflex, though. It’s all her. It’s the effect she has on him.

“We should, uh, probably, uhm, detangle…”

“Uh-huh, yup, nope, agree,” he says and clears his throat once more, hoping the fluster will leave his body soon. “You, uh, wanna bend down, and we both can grab our towels?”

Fuck, it’ll probably be awkward between them for months now. They’ll avoid each other during breakfast, lunch, dinner… They’ll stop watching movies together, Sam will have to be their buffer and hate it, and they probably won’t look directly into each other’s eyes till Christmas – and it’s only fucking February.

“Oh, uhm… I actually, technically didn’t, uh, come with a towel?”

His eyebrow twitches upward, head slightly tilting to the side as he thinks about her words. “Oh, uh… Wait… Were you, uhm, walking around like… naked through the bunker?”

Well, there’s an image Dean’s never gonna get out of his head. Now, he’ll forever wonder if she takes off her clothes as soon as he walks out the door.

“Look, I thought I was alone, okay?! Again – you’re not actually supposed to be here! Don’t judge me!” Y/N defends, the panic returning to her voice, and then adds something in an almost inaudible mumble, “Just wanted to let the girls breathe a little. Sue me…”

“What?” His head tilts some more, the fine creases on his brow deepening.

“Nothing… never mind,” she quickly splutters, her cheeks flushing bright red as she visibly swallows.

Dean snorts. He’s in love with a dork, isn’t he? God, she’s adorable.

And then, it fucking happens again. Dammit…

“Was that…”

“Again – I’m so, so sorry,” he apologizes once more, although he’s sure he can’t do it often enough. His dick is an escaped zoo animal and clearly on the prowl tonight.

“No, uh… So how do you wanna do this? We could, uhm, maybe turn 180 and then close our eyes and let go… I could, uhm, run really fast down the hall, and you could just quickly back into the bathro–”

Y/N doesn’t get to finish laying out her plan. Dean’s lips on hers stop any further words from spilling out of her mouth. The featherlight kiss doesn’t last longer than a painfully anxious second, his mind racing a mile a minute, his brain positively fried.

What the hell is he fucking doing? There’s only one rule in the bunker: don’t sexually harass Y/N. Dean’s pretty damn sure he’s breaking that rule right now and crossing too many goddamn lines. How’s he supposed to ever recover from this?

“What, uh…” Y/N’s speechless, every muscle frozen stiff in his embrace. Her eyebrows draw up and reach her hairline, eyes blown wide in shock. “Or that… you could do that…”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Dean groans in defeat and shame, hoping the Earth opens up and takes him straight to the burning fires of Hell. See? There aren’t enough apologies in this world to make up for his stupidity. “You know, this is all Sam’s fault… He just got into my head… I mean, this is obviously the wrong first move… I-I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just have a, you know, teeny-tiny crush on you, but still, this is obviously inappropriate.”

“You-, uhm, you have a crush on me?”

Dean swallows the hard lump in his throat. “Uh, yeah… Yeah, I do,” he admits bravely. “But don’t worry about it, okay? It’s just a temporary thing, alright?”

Y/N nods slightly in understanding. “For how long have you felt this way?”

“Well, uhm, like I said – not that long… Just a very short period of time… Like, since November 29th… 2012,” he gulps and shrugs sheepishly, watching her brow furrow in confusion.

“But… that’s the day we met,” Y/N points out.

Dean chuckles uncomfortably and rebuffs her concerns. “Is it? No…,” he rasps. “Well, uhm, anyways, that doesn’t change anything. Don’t worry, alright? No need to make this weird. I’m sure if we give it a couple more years, I’ll be completely over you.”

Y/N’s head bobs again, her lips pursing. “Okay, uhm… But what if you, uh, you know, maybe get over me in the literal sense… and I could get under you?”

The gears in his head start turning as he musingly squints his pine green eyes at her and studies her features. She seems nervous. There’s a bite of her lower lip and a light swallow in her throat, her pupils flickering insecurely. “Uhm, well… is that something you would like? I mean, to get-, uh, would you wanna get under me?”

“Uhm… yes? Yeah?” She looks up at him and meets his gaze, their eyes fully connecting for the first time since they have catapulted themselves into this mortifying situation.

“Is that a question?” Dean checks and chuckles lightly. “Because you kinda need to be sure about this, y’know?”

Another swallow and Y/N nods, determination gleaming in her eyes. He feels her weight shift forward, her feet rising on tip-toes as her palms move from his upper arms to the back of his neck. Her soft, pillowy lips catch his, a tender touch as their mouths carefully mold together. She sucks on his upper lip, nibbles on the bottom one before he feels the tip of her tongue lick between. He opens his mouth wider, lets her slip inside.

Dean’s hands then begin to travel, his confidence growing as Y/N’s fingers tug slightly on the short strands of hair in the nape of his neck, trying to draw him closer. One large hand cups her neck, the other one smoothing down her spine and pressing into the small of her back. He pushes her closer, deepens the kiss, and both of them moan needily while their tongues dance with each other. His grip on her becomes stronger, their bodies melting into one. Y/N gasps into his mouth, her hips pushing against his, skin on skin, as her bare pussy brushes his bulging dick.

“Shit…,” Dean mutters breathlessly against her lips, and Y/N breaks the kiss and meets his eyes with a hint of a smile.

Her lips are red and glistening, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. He cups her blushed cheek, thumb ghosting over the kiss-swollen flesh of her bottom lip as he mirrors her soft smile.

“You okay?” Y/N checks, giggling slightly.

Dean chuckles, palm still caressing her cheek. “Yeah, uh, just realized we’re incredibly naked.”

She snorts and nods, “Yeah, guess that doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination, huh?”

“Definitely not,” Dean agrees and laughs a little, his cheeks blushing with bashfulness. “But, look, we don’t have to do anything tonight, alright? We can take it slow.”

Y/N thoughtfully chews on her lip, her dimples showing a smile before she shakes her head. “No, I think we’ve been taking things slow for long enough.”

Dean’s face breaks into a grin before he pulls her back to his lips for a searing kiss. Y/N’s hands lock around his neck, allowing him to lift her up, and her legs instinctively wrap around his waist. His hand weaves into her hair, still damp in the back of her neck from her bath, as the scent of her delicious body wash and lotion seep into his nostrils with each intake of air.

“You smell nice,” he notes, his mouth trailing along her jawline and down her throat, leaving wet kisses in his wake as he sucks her pulse point black and blue. “Like a flower garden…”

Y/N giggles, the cute sound in his ears causing his heart to flutter. She clasps his jaw and draws his attention back to her face, nuzzling her nose against his, whispering, “Bedroom. Need you inside me…”

“Jesus, Y/N… Going in for the kill, huh? You can’t say stuff like that to a man in a compromising position,” he jokes, making her laugh more. “Okay, hold on, sweetheart. You ready?”

She confirms it with a nod, and Dean adjusts his grip on her body, grabbing her a little tighter before bolting down the bunker hallway like a little kid on Christmas morning. The huntress squeals and giggles in his arms as he kicks the door open to his bedroom, gently laying her down on the mattress. She lets herself fall back and stretches out on the bed, her shoulder blades indenting the memory foam, and he hopes the thing does as advertised and fucking remembers her forever.

“You’re fast,” Y/N teases him as he quickly makes his way on top of her.

Dean chuckles, placing soft kisses on her lips in between his laughs. “Yeah, well, I’d run a mile just to get a taste of you, sweetheart. But don’t worry – not all of it will be this fast, alright?”

“Oh, I didn’t think it would be,” she giggles and licks her lips. “Can you just do me a favor?”

“Anything, sweetheart,” Dean assures her and lovingly brushes her hair behind her ears.

“Just judging by, uhm, size-,” she interrupts her sentence for a giggle, and he joins in. She’s so fucking cute. “Can you go slow?”

“Oh, trust me. I would’ve taken my time either way, but tell you what – I’ll even do you one better,” he says. His fingers then slide up her arm, along her collarbone and down to one breast. She shivers underneath him, her skin breaking into delicate goosebumps, soon soothed by his warm lips. His thumb brushes her bud, plays with it until it hardens and then alleviates the sensation with his hot breath and wet tongue.

“Fuuuuck,” Y/N sighs blissfully, her toes curling as a smile shapes on her lips, fully relaxing under his care. “Feels so good, De.”

His chuckle vibrates against her ribcage, his mouth traveling down her upper body, his kisses not missing an inch of smooth skin. Every rib, every beauty mark, every freckle gets the attention they deserve, even teasingly dipping his tongue into her navel. The last tender kiss is placed on her mound as he moves between her legs and spreads her thighs a little wider.

A smirk forms on his face as he leers at her pussy, bright pink and already glistening with her arousal. He catches her watchful gaze, sees a bit of insecurity shimmering in it as she nibbles her fingernails and bottom lip almost bloody, so he cheekily wiggles his eyebrows and sends her a wink, causing her to giggle and roll her eyes at his antics before she lets herself fall back into the mattress with a calming, deep breath.

Licking his thumb pad, he presses it against her sensitive nub, her thighs jolting for a second at the initial touch as a hiss escapes her throat, followed shortly by a strangled whimper. Y/N’s hands fist the bedsheet a little tighter, her knuckles turning white, every muscle wired to the nth degree. Her chest heaves frantically as her breathing grows more erratic with each little circle of his digit. His index finger then stretches and reaches her dripping entrance, rubbing at the tight ring before he easily pushes inside and curls it, poking the spongey spot.

“Fuck, Dean…,” she manages to croak out, biting down on her tongue.

Dean only chuckles, a giddy feeling spreading in his stomach and loving how responsive she is to his touches. There’s a loud whimper when he kisses her pussy lips, tongue dipping between and giving her clit a kitten lick, distracting her enough to shove his middle finger inside her cunt as well, scissoring them once he’s knuckles-deep.

“Oh God… shit,” she groans and whines above him.

He laughs lightly and curiously observes the torment on her face. “Wanna cum, huh?”

“Dean, I swear… I-… please,” she begs, her initial threat morphing into a soft plea for mercy.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he assures her amusedly and swiftly presses his mouth back on her pussy, sucking her sensitive bundle of nerves between his plump lips and thrusting his digits harder and faster inside her. It only takes three, four pushes and one skilled suck before she convulses, trembles, and soaks his face and fingers in her juices. He groans at the sweet taste of her on his tongue, his cock twitches gleefully between his bow legs, only too eager to slide in next.

“Oh God! Fuck… shit… D-Dean!”

The green-eyed hunter grins broadly up at her, his face almost split in half as he bathes in her blissed-out expression and the rosy cheeks that accompany it.

“Wow,” she breathes and shakily catches his swollen and wet lips as he comes back up to her eye level, propping his arms up on the sides of her head.

“I think you’re ready for the big gun now,” he laughs and places a loving kiss on the tip of her nose and another one on her forehead.

“Uh-huh, I’m not so sure after this,” she giggles, still catching her breath. She cups his jaw, kisses him deeply, and licks her arousal from his pillowy lips. “You’re… amazing.”

“Right back at you, sweetheart,” he winks, the softness of his smile contrasting his cockiness. “Do we, uhm, need–”

Y/N shakes her head, anticipating his question. “No, uh, I’m on the pill. I just need you.”

With a smile, he nods and ducks his head, entangling her in a blazing kiss as he devours her lips. His hand pushes between their heated bodies, fisting his achingly hard cock before he threads his dickhead through her folds, coats it with her slick before it catches at her entrance. His thick and leaking tip pushes inside, slowly entering her drenched cunt inch by inch till he’s buried deep and touches her cervix, stretching her tight walls around his impressive girth and hearing her little gasps of sheer pleasure.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rasps at the feeling of her pussy enveloping his cock and gently brushes her hair out of her face, kissing her deeply. “Taking me so well… Such a good girl f’me.”

“God, you feel like heaven,” she whimpers and wraps her arms around his neck.

As he languidly pulls out to the tip, he kisses down her neck, sucking a mark into her skin. His hand wraps around one of hers, pinning it above her head to the mattress, fingers tightly interlocking before he thrusts back into her heat. His hips then work up a rhythm, a slow and soft song, as he fucks her deep and slams home harder at just the right spot.  

Her second orgasm builds slowly yet deeply, aiming to shatter her from within as she hears the ticking of a bomb in every muscle of her body, counting down the seconds before a massive explosion. She moans loudly as the earth-shattering climax hits her at full force, booming and wild as she curses his name over and over.

His fingers grip hers tighter, his thrusts growing sloppy as he lazily fucks her, her pulsating walls clenching around his firm cock. His hips begin to stutter, broad shoulders quaking as he spills deep inside her and stills. He grunts, her name falling from his lips, loud, strained, and primal when he cums, painting her walls with his milky seed.

“Wow,” Dean repeats her earlier sentiment, her giggle causing his heart to soar higher than the moon in the sky. “You okay?”

A wide smile spreads across her face, a tired nod moving her head. “Yeah, more than okay,” she assures him and seeks out his lips.

Dean places one last kiss on her hairline before removing his limp and drenched dick from her center, rolling to his side and pulling her onto his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around her frame. “Hey, Y/N?”

She wearily lifts her heavy head to meet his green eyes. “Hm?”

“Were you, uhm, lonely?” Dean asks, his fingertips drawing tender patterns on her back.

“I guess… a little, yeah,” she admits. “Why?”

He kisses her forehead and pulls her closer. “Nothing. Just… I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere, okay? You wanna move into my room?”

Y/N’s beam is blinding, her cheeks blushing brightly pink. “Yeah, I’d love that,” she replies and snuggles back into his chest.

Dean then notices her eyes falling shut, losing the battle against sleep as her breathing calms in his embrace, his own mind following her into dreamland soon after.

In the morning, Y/N and Dean are still soundly asleep, entangled in sheets and limbs, when there are a few abrupt knocks on the door before it pops open to its full extent, the youngest Winchester’s voice drowning in from the hall.

“Hey, Dean? I’m back! Look, I figured we could talk. I’m sorry about yesterd–… ay… Whoa!”

“Wha-!” Y/N jolts up from the bed at the unexpected intrusion, her elbow hitting Dean straight in the face as he rises behind her. The force of the blow knocks him out of bed, the hunter tumbling to the cold ground.

Y/N clasps her palm over her mouth, staring at Sam’s shocked expression, their eyes both wide before she glances over her shoulder to her lover on the ground.

“Ow! Jesus…”

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Sam,” the huntress smiles awkwardly at the younger Winchester, sheepishly shrugging her shoulders as she hides her naked body underneath the sheets. “Good morning. How-, uh, how was the documentary?”

“Uhm, good?” Sam doesn’t look any less freaked out by what his hazel eyes are witnessing, though.

Dean groans behind her, rubbing a palm over his aching face before sending his little brother a lazy grin. “Hiya, Sammy.”

Sam then lets out a long sigh through his nose and mutters, “About damn time…”

“Yeah, about that, little brother… Might call Eileen and book yourself a room for at least a week somewhere,” Dean tells him, smirking.

Sam’s brow furrows, “What? Why?”

“Oh, because I’m gonna rail Y/N in every room we have,” Dean explains casually, watching Sam’s eyes widen.

“Oh?” Y/N sends her boyfriend an intrigued look, which he responds to with a sly wiggle of his eyebrows and a wink. “Even the dungeon? Are you, like, gonna tie me up and stuff?”

Dean’s eyes look at her lovingly, causing her cheeks to flush with heat. “Where have you been all my life, sweetheart?”

“Oh God, what have I done…,” Sam groans with a thick swallow.

PHEW! And we’re done with one shot week, babes! 😮‍💨 I honestly hadn’t planned this but found some inspiration over the weekend and finished some WIPs, and since they were all about different kinds of love, I figured they were perfect for Valentine’s Day 💖

Hope you enjoyed these various journeys, and if you did, please consider telling me here and leaving me with some kind words 🥰 Now excuse me while I go work on a few Soldier Boy one shots. I’ve missed my toxic Ben-Ben. Read you soon, babes! 😝🖤

Everything Jensen Tags: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @mrsjenniferwinchester @justrealizedimmascifygurl @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @lhymer1995 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @leigh70 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @recoveringpastaaddict @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420 @creepzeyecandy @avanatural​

Dean Tags: @parinarain​ @hobby27​ @fromcaintodean​

[thecapricunt1616]

Saffron - c.b. one-shot

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “I want to” the words left your lips without even needing to think and with your permission he watched your blissed out expression in the mirror as he spread your folds with his fingers, before dipping his digit in your slick and swirling it back and forth gently over your swelling nub. He placed a sweet kiss to your shoulder, his breath hot and sending goosebumps spreading over your skin. 

♡ O/S Inspo: For thousands of years, Saffron has been used to boost libido in both men and women. In Greek mythology, Zeus himself used the spice as a sexual stimulant. Traditional Eastern medicine also recommends it as an aphrodisiac.

♡ Summary: You have just been invited to star in your very first music video as a dancer - so of course you're a bundle of nerves, but your lovely Bear knows just how to help you relax.

♡ W/C: 1,947

♡ Posted Date: 05/16/2024

♡ A/N: Hi, Hey, Hello all! Hello to all my new followers omg 💖 I am so happy you’re here! This one shot is based on ♡ this ♡ request by @bbyseojun ! I hope this is what you were looking for when you requested it 🫶 I'm so so soooooo sorry that this got lost in my docs! Eek sorry about that :( Per usual requests are OPEN! I love doing them, I hope to get more in the future (promise they won't take as long as this one hehe) ☺️💖

♡ Warnings for BTC: smut smut smut - more smut - swearing (not edited that well SORRY) - tis all I believe! No use of Y/N & Black!Fem!Reader friendly. ♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had finally gotten your big break. Today was the first day of your music video shoots for one of the biggest up and coming female rappers in the industry, and you couldn’t be more stoked. You could hardly sleep last night due to your excitement.

You had been a dancer in Chicago for 4 years now, well - not full time. You of course between gigs waitressed @ The Beef — which is where you met your beloved boyfriend. You had worked for Mikey for about a year before he took his life. That was the thing that no one saw coming. When you came in to work the night after it happened and Richie wasn’t there - you knew something was extremely off. 

When Carmy came back to Chicago you were a bit shocked that he actually accepted the offer of taking the restaurant over. You two got close very quickly, and you were able to help fill in the gaps of what Michael wasn’t telling him so he could better process his death. 

Your romantic relationship bloomed faster then Carmen expected - but if he was honest he couldn’t get enough of you. The days you were off doing auditions or gigs he found himself missing you around the restaurant, giving you little playful spanks as you shuffled past him at his station while running food to the front of the restaurant, as well as sneaky make out sessions right before lunch or dinner rush in the dry storage. 

Your alarm went off at 4:55 and you hopped out of bed, starting the shower and Carmy was still snoring. He had no alarms set because he was taking you today, and would be on set with you. You at first had felt like he was babying you, or felt as if you couldn’t handle getting there yourself because you’d expressed confusion about the set location. 

He’d explained after a heated screaming match after closing one night last week, that you ‘weren’t allowed the time off if y’were gonna be a brat ‘bout him comin w’you’ and that ‘he knows models who have worked music videos and there are fuckos and pervs he doesn’t want you around’ so he was simply going to ‘keep you safe’ 

He took you at the expo table after you’d expressed if he just said he was doing it because he loved you and not because he thought you were incompetent you would have submitted to his request. That led to his thick hand around your throat and lips to the shell of your ear hissing into your sweaty skin

“Y’need me t’show you how much I love you? Mmm? Want me t’show you how I own this fuckin pussy? Huh? That big fuckin mouth isn’t runnin’ T’much now that I’m givin y’what y’been beggin me for all fuckin day yeah?” 

 By the time you’d finished your shower, Carmy was up, drinking his black cold brew packed with ice in a 32 oz deli container as you buzzed around the bedroom, toothbrush in your mouth and fluffy black towel wrapped taut around your figure. 

“Y’know it’s only 5:40, right?” He said, looking up from his phone. He was likely checking his emails, or obsessively texting Sydney - making sure she was awake and headed to the restaurant to be there for truck since today was the first day he was leaving her on her own. 

“Fiffe footy?!?” You exclaim through toothpaste and dropped your towel, his pupils going twice their size as your breasts bounced around while you hopped into a clean pair of seamless painties, before grabbing a bralette from the top draw. You slipped it on, rushing and sitting on the bed and he clips it for you by nature before you adjusted your chest and skittered back off to the bathroom

“Start the fuckin car!!! Jesus!!!” You snap, stressed and annoyed he was still laxely sprawled on the bed enjoying his coffee and catching up on his phone. 

“Fuuuckin Christ!!! Y’gonna be like this all day?” He huffed, opening his draw and grabbing a pair of jeans and a white shirt, slipping them on. “Lucky I take my showers at night” he grumbled. 

“Scuse me?” You snipped with a slight smile “who’s lucky for what?” You challenge. 

“Nothing” he scoffed, knowing if he tried you he’d not be touched for a week. “I love you” he said to try to smooth things over as he grabbed the keys and went downstairs to start the car and you smirked to yourself, slipping on your grey sweats and tank top before slicking your hair into a bun. 

By the time he was back, he comes and gives you gentle kisses on the back of your neck, gently rubbing over your belly and finding purchase on your hips before squeezing sweetly. “ Is someone nervous? Mm?” He mumbled into your skin and trailed his fingers underneath, goosebumps appearing on your skin at the contact. 

“Why wouldn’t I be nervous? And you’re movin’ all slow” you whine and he gently kisses your bare shoulder, trailing gentle pecks up to your neck 

“Relax” he said in that soft sweet way, tucking his fingers in your waistband. “Y’know we don’t have to be there till 8:45. It’s not even 6 baby the drive won’t take that long” he kissed that sweet spot right under your ear. 

“How am I supposed to relax when I’m about to do the biggest gig of my life this is like- this is like you with your stars!” You watch him in the mirror, gently nibbling on your earlobe gently, sucking on it. He stopped to chuckle lightly and you slap his thigh 

“Babe I know, I know it’s important - ‘s just funny cause you never know when Y’gonna get tested t’get a star it’s not like a fuckin…bar exam ‘er somethin. But y’gotta relax sweetheart” he dipped his fingers in the waistband of your panties “lemme help yeah? Make y’feel good?” He mumbled into your skin. 

“Carmy” you breathe as he rubs his thick calloused fingers over your mound. “Carmy” you drop your head back on his shoulder, guard falling down immediately. Every thought melted from your mind, your knees went wobbly, toes curling slightly. He knew exactly how to get you going, exactly which buttons to push. You felt his lips trail your jaw, careful to not nip hard enough to leave a bruise. 

“You know what to say if Y’don’t want me to” he reminded you, stilling his fingers for a moment to give your thoughts a moment to clear. You opened your eyes once more, seeing his piercing blue ones wide and enlarged with desire, tip of his nose red from the chilly morning air and lips slightly swollen from his inability to keep his lips from trailing your skin. 

“I want to” the words left your lips without even needing to think and with your permission he watched your blissed out expression in the mirror as he spread your folds with his fingers, before dipping his digit in your slick and swirling it back and forth gently over your swelling nub. He placed a sweet kiss to your shoulder, his breath hot and sending goosebumps spreading over your skin. 

In the mirror you saw your nipples had become rock hard beneath the fabric of your bralette, your eyes trailing down to see Carmy’s hand working beneath the soft fabric of your sweatpants. “Feel good baby? Mm?” He asked gently, pressing you more against the counter since your knees were getting weaker. You responded with a breathy moan and gentle nod, grinding into his hand. “Wait- wait princess won’t feel as good mm? Trust me” he stilled your hips and continued rubbing wide, gentle circles into your folds. 

“Please need you so bad-“ you whined out, feeling as if you sounded a bit pathetic but you didn’t care - the only thing bouncing around your mind was you needed release, and soon. 

“I know princess, y’gettin there” he drags your juices up to your clit, circling gently at first but quickening his circles before switching to strokes back and forth that had your hips bucking forward and a sharp gasp passing your lips. “See” he said gently, a smug smile on his lips as he rubs down, feeling over your entrance and teasing it with the pad of his finger. You bit your lip, looking at him in the mirror. 

“You’re such a tease” you whined out, and he thrust his finger inside you, causing your jaw to drop and a whimper to fall out of your mouth, gripping the counter with white knuckles for stability 

“Am I?” He mused, pushing past the first knuckle, then the second, achingly slow. He curled it in, trying to find that special spot “You look so pretty when you relax like this, mm princess?” He kept your gaze in the mirror, watching every twitch and gasp. You felt his cock pressing hard against your ass, you could only imagine the wet patch on his sweatpants and it made a wave of warmth flood your lower belly at the idea he’s going to have to change them before you leave. 

“You wanna fuck me? Huh? Right here in front of the mirror?” You asked, voice breathy and needy. He found the spot and pressed it with the pad of his finger, rolling your clit under his palm - the sensation on both ends of your most sensitive bit was enough for you to see stars in your vision at the stimulation. You leaned on the counter feeling weak and he lifted you with his other arm, holding you flush to his chest and wrapping his hand around your neck just enough for your head to feel light.

“You think you could handle me kitten?” He asked in the shell of your ear, adding his ring finger and thrusting them quicker. You went to moan, but you were so blissed out it came out more like a squeak. “Huh? Did ya’ say somethin’ pretty girl? Could barely hear you y’pussy is so wet” he teased, curling and uncurling his fingers to exaggerate his point, the squelch of his fingers nearly drowning out your whimper that soon followed.

“Cumming” you moaned hotly, resting your hand on his forearm, squeezing gently to tell him to add more pressure on your throat. He got the message of course, he always did. He had your body memorized as well as he did every cooking temp in the book. You leaned into the counter as your knees shook and he supported you with his arm, working you through it and whispering praise into your skin.

“See? Thas’ my good girl yeah? Jus’ needed some help lettin’ go mm? Feelin’ better now princess?” he worked you down, rubbing you gently. Your hips twitched and he chuckled a bit “Needa sit?” he asked gently and ran his hand from your neck down your chest, rubbing over your ribs sweetly. 

“No-” you said once you got your mind right again whining a bit when he took his hand out. “M’sorry for being mean” you said softly, looking at him in the mirror. He gently kissed the top of your head, lingering for a moment and closing his eyes. You closed yours as well, leaning against him and savoring the moment. You did feel much better, you felt much lighter, even though there was an infrequent twitch between your legs as your body rode out the wave. It was all pleasant, though.  “Y’aren’t mean baby. Just a little sassy” He spanks you lightly. “I’m gonna shower, go stretch out n'we can leave when m’done - ye’?”

[manjiroscum]

PRIMROSES

Character/s: Pantalone

Warnings: f!reader, a bit of explicit sex, mature language, arranged marriage, hurt&comfort, light angst, fluff, modern au, this is a bit cheesy ngl, reader's father is a dick, pantalone has violet eyes, reader being anxious, pantalone is a banker, pantalone being a simp, mentions of unprotected sex, mention of the use of condoms, hints of pregnancy, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

Note: been long since i wrote so i apologize if it isn't the best 🥹 this piece is dedicated to my lovely bby suki 💖

Synopsis: Your dearest husband got the scare of his life.

WC: 2.4k

Distance makes the heart grow fond but prolonged absence makes the heart forget.

The day Pantalone agreed to marry you despite it being an arranged endeavor was supposed to make a blushing bride feel over the moon. To recall that fateful meeting was akin to viewing a love story just about to unfold on a large screen, blissfully unaware of what was coming next no matter how obvious the foreshadowing is shown. All that occupied your mind that moment was the faint scent of primroses that wafted around the vicinity that was graced by his presence. The scent became stronger with each passing second, especially when you happened to flick off a piece of lint that dared to tarnish his impeccable suit. The mere act alone had Pantalone smiling down at you, causing your poor unsuspecting heart to do a flip.

“Thank you, my dear. I never saw that.”

He was cordial during the first meeting, smiling and casually complimenting you or nodding to your father’s flowery description of his beautiful daughter. The way his eyes followed your every move was enough to have you grow conscious of whatever you do but also made you aware of his interest in his soon-to-be wife. He was every man’s dream—rich, powerful, and unbothered by those who dared to challenge him. After all, who could compete with such a force that is Snezhnaya City’s most wealthy and influential banker? Mere humans can not compete with a demigod of the financial world, let alone those who wish to become like him when there is only one Pantalone in the whole universe who has beaten all odds thrown at him by life to reach the pedestal where he is now.

Nothing would make you happier than to have him fall head over heels for you just like you did with the way he carried himself during the entire evening.

“Is the caviar delicious?”

Pantalone’s lips curled up at your eager nod, unable to take his eyes off of you just like you couldn’t gaze away from the man. He was so patient in explaining things you would ask him, gentle in holding your hand to kiss it as a momentary goodbye. The promise of more encounters shone through his amethyst irises behind those glasses, capturing every fiber of your being to believe in him for he shall never disappoint.

“I hope to see you again, preferably sometime this week.”

A man such as he deserved nothing but the best of the best. To marry Pantalone would be second to reaching those pearly gates—everything to be handed to you on a gold platter and happiness will be served once one gold band is around your pretty ring finger. To be Pantalone’s wife… Such bliss indeed.

And yet, it was damn lonely. After all those months of preparations and making sure the wedding, including the wedding night, was perfect—Pantalone never had free time to spend with you again the second the honeymoon was all over. You have never foreseen the loneliness after all those insatiable fucking, overflowing words of endearment, and sipping champagne with him. Your friend was the occasional helper in the penthouse once the knots were tied. Missing Pantalone dearly wasn’t part of the agreement.

What happened to his vows in keeping you happy?

Your father was the first person you consulted with this sudden change in Pantalone’s demeanor. Yet, he hardly provided any advice or assistance or anything at all to explain the distance between you and your husband. For someone who arranged the marriage, you would’ve thought he’d lend you a hand and be sure the relationship wouldn’t go sour.

“Daughter, I think you shouldn’t be too… clingy, you know? Your husband needs some space from time to time. A man can’t run a business when his wife is hogging all of his time. Just don’t get all emotional. You tend to overreact…”

Frustrated, you slammed the door after walking out of your dad’s office. Hot angry tears threatened to drip down your warm cheeks at his statement. No wonder your mother left his sorry ass too soon.

You? Clingy? Overreacting?

Pantalone couldn’t even keep his hands off of you during the honeymoon period, even going far as to glare at the waiter who was making passes at you at that French restaurant. He tore the dress you wore that night with his bare hands while stamping hot kisses onto every skin his lips could touch. His fingers burying deep in your wet pussy he made possible so easily. The intoxicating smell of primrose and your shampoo mingled in your shared bedroom, with a mixture of sweat and fluids. His mouth claimed yours again and again just like his cock stretching your hole with each powerful thrust. Your husband burned through his stash of condoms meant for a month that night. You failed to recall how many times he came inside you, whispering his devotion directly into your ears while pounding you sore.

Pantalone valued your time like he valued his money. Those lips spoke of unattainable treasures he can buy, pledging he shall get them if you do ask. Yet, you never requested any material things. While you were grateful, it was his presence and his time you sought—far more valuable than any gold or jewel.

He found this far too amusing.

“Dearest, it somehow pains me that you don’t want this Birkin that will absolutely go well with that dress. Normally I would insist, but if you merely want to spend an evening alone with me, who am I to say no?”

It was his sturdy form keeping you from stumbling after too many drinks or the way he tucks back stray hairs from your face that made your soul fall harder. The quirk of his brow or the curve on his lips as he intently listens to you had your heart leaping in euphoria. This may have been an arranged marriage, however, it was better than you imagined. Pantalone may be the best husband there is…

A husband you rarely see anymore due to the drastic change in his behavior.

No matter how you tried to call him every day, you couldn’t help but hang on to his cryptic messages as responses or calls that last for a minute. The meals for two set on the table morphed slowly into one. His chair was often empty beside yours as you ate in silence. Traces of him being in the penthouse was rare, and even if he were to come home, only his warmth beside your side of the bed and the faint scent of primroses were all you could witness.

The ride down the elevator was uneventful as it can be. But your mind was racing faster than the cogs of the machine working to take you to the parking level. Pantalone consumed your thoughts even as you got into the Bentley Pantalone gifted you as a wedding gift. Sitting there and staring into space in the driver’s seat, you sighed.

Where did you go wrong?

You were quite sure everything was going so well between you two. Plus, you made sure not to do anything that will annoy him or anything. Pantalone was straightforward in telling you what ticked him off and what he found pleasant. He laid out his terms just as you did yours before you both agreed to marry one another.

So, what was keeping him so busy that he could barely see his wife, let alone be at home all the time?

Groaning, you leaned back against the seat and covered your face. You didn’t want to shed any tears, not in a parking lot where anyone can see. And frankly, you didn’t want to cry just because Pantalone hasn’t been paying you any attention. Oh god, perhaps you have gone too clingy. Too clingy that he has made his office his home and refuses to see you. For weeks, you have been sick with worry. Mornings, where you refuse to eat and even vomit the food you ate at dinner, were more frequent. To lose sleep over your husband’s absence was not the ideal way to go. But how can you lay in bed when Pantalone was out there doing god knows what?

No longer fighting back the tears, you nodded in defeat. Perhaps your father was right. Maybe you have gone too far as to cling to him in every moment you saw each other. Yeah, that’s probably why… You were quite sure of this, enough to go home and pack your things hastily into a suitcase. Hellbent on leaving him first before he can think of doing it. The rash decision fueled by your sorrows grew more rational with each minute that passed.

Because if he were seeing another woman, you were certain you would die on the spot—right there and then. You couldn’t bare to lose half of your soul when you just found it.

Pantalone, fortunately for him, came home to retrieve papers in his office just in time as you were about to wheel your suitcase out the front door. What appeared to be a normal day went crashing down instantly at the scene in front of the banker. A look of shock flashed in his features that you were sure you have never seen grace his face before. He was quick to compose himself, though, and approached you in confusion. You tried to hide your tear-streaked face, hoping the last image he will see of you is an epitome of immaculate and not someone about to get kicked out.

Yet, fate wouldn’t have it, eh?

“D-dearest, is there something wrong? Why have you packed your—what’s going on?” Despite the urgency and demand in his tone, Pantalone’s voice was shaky. Why on earth was his wife leaving him? Had he done anything wrong? Mind trying to come up with a memory or incident where he might’ve said something to offend you, Pantalone instantly shut the door and blocked it with his body when you moved past him. “Sweetheart, I won’t be able to understand or appease you if you wouldn’t tell me what’s bothering you.”

He watched as you swallowed, trying to avoid eye contact with him. Normally, this type of behavior would irritate him. But this was you. Pantalone would rather set his bank and possessions on fire than scare you away—the charming woman who genuinely enjoyed his company and listened to him rather than worm your way into his life for his money.

“I…I can’t do this anymore,” you responded with a hiccup from all the sobbing you did earlier. Pantalone’s mind haywire at your statement, unsure whether to hold you to keep you from running or to let you go. What could have possibly turned you this way? It wasn’t until your teary eyes met his that the realization of his constant absence sunk into him. “You’ve been… distant lately. I t-tired to reach out multiple times. I know you’re a busy man, but—” you cut yourself off to keep another sob from bubbling out.

Your trembling body was then encased by Pantalone’s, arms wrapping around you. The burst of his familiar scent of those damn flowers that always muddled your mind now cleared your thoughts. Instead of pushing him away, you found yourself crying in his arms, refusing to let go. Your husband sighed heavily, whispering his apologies and rubbing your back to soothe you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I am… aware that I’ve been away. I know my lack of reaching out shouldn’t be excused, but do know that whatever you think I am doing is false.” Cupping your face, Pantalone leaned down to kiss your eyelids and tears. He continued to press kisses around your face until you quieted down, still holding onto him. He resumed his explanation with a small smile. “I shouldn’t have left you all alone, especially when the plans I’ve been busy with concern our house. Will you forgive your stupid husband for his mistake, mhm? Please stop crying, dearest. I can’t bare to see you this sad. I know I truly messed up this time… I am willing to make things right.”

Blinking twice, you registered the information regarding his lack of presence. While you were glad he admitted his mistake, this was a reminder that even such an accomplished man like Pantalone was still human at the end of the day. And a house? For the family that you two will soon have? He thought of this relationship far ahead...

Is this man's mission to make you fall even harder?

“You did. You fuckin’ made me worry so much.”

“Language, sweetheart. You know I only want to hear you say filthy words when you’re underneath me,” he joked that your eyes rolling. Pantalone then fished out a handkerchief from his suit pocket, handing it to you. “Now, dry those tears. I’ll take you to see the progress of the construction tomorrow. We’ll have lunch at that restaurant you have been wanting to go to. How does that sound?”

You grabbed the handkerchief he gave you and blew into the expensive material, giggling at the grimace that he tried to mask.

“Okay. But I’ll forgive you, stupid husband, if you promise not to do this again and communicate. And if you will promise to keep the rest of your days free for me. I miss my stupid husband so much that I’ve forgotten how he feels next to me.” You coupled your statement with a soft teasing smile. Pantalone exhaled in relief and then nodded without hesitation, not minding what you called him.

“Of course, dearest. Anything you want.”

Humming in delight, you hugged him again. Those three words you always say slipped past your lips, relief both in your hearts. Pantalone whispered those words back, squeezing you tighter. The crisis has been averted, but simply letting him get away with this is not happening. He knows this.

“And one more thing, can we eat at a different restaurant? I’ve been craving sushi since last night.”

“Craving sushi?” His brow raised at your request, pulling away to stare at you. “But I thought you couldn’t stand raw food right now? You said so last time. Isn’t that the reason why you wanted to eat Italian dishes?”

While it was endearing that Pantalone remembered that phone call back when he was missing in action, you went still at the memory. Sharing a look with him, perhaps there was something more than simply missing him that was causing your mood to switch faster than a broken light switch.

🎐taglist: @dottores @manjirousagi @festive @tokyometronetwork @saetoru @saeshiraw @saecore

[starcrossedreaders]

Your Late Night Ramen was so cute! I was wondering if you do angst? Like either Leon’s Girlfriend or Leon himself is extremely injured or on deaths door type of angst??

And if you do something with this is it alright if I draw a scene??

Please and thank you💖💖💖

Authors Note: I have never written angst before so hopefully you enjoy it. Please Please Please draw anything from my fics, you have full creative freedom! If you do draw a scene from this one please tag me in it. Enjoy <3 P.S This fic is very inspired by the song I Really Want to Stay at Your House by Rosa Walton.

Warnings: Mentions of Leon dying, arguments, crying, mentions of surgery

Pacing your living room was not how you planned to spend your Saturday night. Your partner of 3 years was finally coming home from his 4-day mission in Spain. You and Leon had been through many tribulations together, thick and thin, but this last argument felt like it would be your last. And of course, it had happened the night he left for his mission.

"So I'm just supposed to spend another two weeks reading in between your lines? Leon, I miss you all the time!"

"You're not listening to me Y/N! I can't disclose that type of information to you!" All you could see was red, as your ears burned and your hands shook.

Pointing at Leon you rose your voice, "No NO, I don't think you're listening to ME, Leon! All I want to know is if you'll be safe and make it home in one piece," You and Leon had met during the nightmare of Raccoon City. You had been holding off your own in the police station trying to help the injured officers when Leon came barreling in.

After it, Leon offered to take you out to dinner, which is where things really hit off for your guys. Sitting in his car the clock just hit 11:30 and you were figuring out what to do next.

"So, what do you wanna do?" Leon lolled his head to the side to look at you.

"Hm, There's a party soon, do you wanna go?"

"Sounds good to me," Leon had put the car in gear and followed your shitty directions to the house party your friend was throwing.

A few drinks later you guys had ended up on an isolated back road in the back of Leon's car with you on top of him. A few lazy kisses had led to frantic thrusts.

"Ngh fuck," His hips slammed into yours one last time as he planted his hot seed in the condom he had on. The car windows were fogged up and heavy panting could be heard throughout the car.

A heartbeat later you placed your hand on Leon's jaw, "I don't want to go, Leon," a light blush dusted your cheeks as he slowly pulled out, groaning at the sensation.

"Fuck, then what do you want to do?"

"I really want to stay at your house."

That blissful night was on repeat during your latest argument, "Do you know how much you broke me apart? I'm done with you, I'm ignoring you. I don't want to know," You slapped your hands to the side of your thighs. You were quick to turn around and walk out of the apartment. The walls shook as you slammed the door.

This is how your fights tended to go, one of you says something that hurts the other and they walk out for the night. In the morning breakfast would be made and you guys would talk rationally and fix the problem.

The morning after the argument you had come home to an empty house with no signs of your lover. The events of last night replayed in your head, and you realized how much you truly fucked up.

The days leading up to you pacing your living home had been miserable. You had spent them in your shared bed replaying every memory you and Leon had made. Sure, your arguments really dragged you guys down but you had tried to focus on bettering yourselves.

The clock above the pantry had struck 1:00 am and your phone that was laying on the coffee table began to vibrate. Who would be calling you at this hour? Picking up your phone the caller ID was private but a verified number. Answering the phone you lifted it to your ear to hear a women's voice.

Tiredness laced her voice as she spoke to you, "Hello, I'm Dr.Smith calling from the DSO medical department, I apologize for such a late call but your name and number were listed on Leon S. Kennedy's emergency contact list, am I currently speaking to Y/N Y/L?" Your mind began to race 100 miles per hour at all the possibilities as to why Leon would be seeing a doctor so late.

You cleared the knot from your throat as you answered, "This is she. May I ask what happened,"

"Ah yes, unfortunately, while Leon was on his mission he encountered something that pushed him way past his limits. He had called for help, but by the time they got there, he was in critical condition. We had to put him in a medically induced coma. I was calling to speak about care options for him,"

No, no no no no. All of your nightmares were coming true and you didn't know how to process it. Of course, you guys had to separate on a bad note, you hadn't even told him you loved him. Gods, what if you never tell him again. What if you can never feel the bed dip when he silently joins you. What if you guys can never go on your Friday dinners at the diner downtown. What if you can never take goofy pictures with him to frame them around your shared home. What if you guys don't get married, or have kids, or- "Y/N? Are you still there?"

Anxiety barreled through your veins as your tried to steady your breaths. "Uh. yes yes, would it be possible for me to come there now to discuss this?"

"Yes, of course, I will warn the guards about your arrival and we can meet in the lobby,"

"Thank you so much, Dr. Smith, I'll see you soon." You have never raced to get your shoes on faster, let alone drive upward to 90 mph in a 45.

Your normal 25-minute commute was shortened to 10. You had basically parked your car in-between two lines. You couldn't care any less, so what you get a ticket, your boyfriend was knocking on deaths door.

You ran across the parking lot tripping up the sidewalk when you finally made it to the door. The guard on the night shift was scarily alert at the late hour.

"Ma'am you can't be here at this hour please leave," his voice was stern and fit his massive build very well. He was at least a foot taller than you with super broad shoulders and arms that could crush a watermelon with one hand.

You were still out of breath as you panted out a response, "W-what? Dr.Smith said she would w-warn you about me coming. Sir, it's very important,"

"Ma'am I'm only going to ask one more tim-"

Dr.Smith cracked the front door open and stuck half of her body out. "That's enough, she's with me,"

"Come on Y/N," She was stunning, and her blue eyes had bags under them that made it very obvious on her pale skin. Her blonde hair was in a messy bun that more or less looked like a huge knot on her head. That made you cringe when thinking about trying to undo it.

Walking through the lobby all you could do was drop your jaw, this building was huge, but so so pretty. When you made it to the middle of the lobby you could look up and see all of the floors make a huge spiral.

"This way Ms.L/N," Dr.Smith led you down a hall on the left, you guys took a few turns before you made it to the hospital wing. 4 turns later you guys had made it to the ICU unit. Leon's room was the first on the left side.

"He has been under for 2 days now so hopefully he will be up soon,"

"You mean to tell me that he has been here for 2 days are you guys just now informing of me of his condition?" All you could see was red, you could have been here sooner to get him back home sooner.

"It's...difficult to explain," All you could do was scoff as she opened to door to his room.

The world had gone still, all you could hear was the steady beat of the heart monitor. Many wires and IVs were connected to his body, all of them having a different purpose you had no idea what they did. His face was very pale. Rushing to his bed you had moved his ash blonde hair out of his face and cupped his cheek. His skin was clammy, or maybe it was your own hands, you didn't know. All you knew was that Leon was barely holding on.

"There's a lot of internal damage that we could undergo surgery for him, but his chance of survival is slim to none, or we can let it be, and he can peacefully pa-"

"NO! No, no... H-How? how much will it be?"

"Due to Leon's line of work it would be paid in full," The words floated to your ears but they didn't compute in your head. All you could think about it how you might never be able to tell him how sorry you are, how much you love him, how much you need him.

"I'll give you some time." Once you heard the door click shut your bottom lip began to quiver and your body shook. You pressed your forehead into Leon's arm and you let it all out.

"I-I'm so-so-sorry, Leon," You heaved in a breath of air but ended up choking on it.

"Ple-please don't leave me," A few minutes later you finally took a deep breath as your lifted your head up from his arm. You laughed a little as you wiped your tears away from Leon's arm.

"So, what do you wanna do, what's your point of view? Do you think you can handle the surgery?" Silence filled the room, it was like you were talking to yourself. You wish he would just wake up so he can help you make a decision.

"I'm sorry Leon, I wanted to get away. Just another way to feel what I didn't want myself to know and let myself go. I know, you didn't lose your self-control like I did. Let's start at the rainbow," You really hoped that he could hear what you had to say, hear that you wanted to start new with him, and fix the problems that we have yet to address.

Your hand slid into his cold, clammy hand and squeezed it. A light knock was heard on the thick door before it clicked open.

"So, have you made a decision? I'm not trying to rush you but the faster we get him into the operating room the better chance he has at surviving,"

Taking a deep breath in you squeezed his hand one more time before you turned to her. "We're going to try the surgery." Dr.Smith said a few things before she left the room.

The moment the door clicked shut you could feel slight pressure in the hand that was holding Leon's hand. You whipped your head towards it before you could feel the squeeze again.

Authors note: Part two maybe?!?!?! Sorry for taking so long to post this, the internal warn with this writing was so real but it's out and I hope you love it.

[castawavy]

November Save MEGA summary (part 4)

before / next

boom, im on a roll with these but im ngl I really enjoy making them so LFG heres another.

after awhile I decided to take the wholee family on holiday (this was basically when they FINALLY had enough disposable income to do some fun stuff together as a family) so they went to Tartosa so here is a big holiday montage:

they did go to the beach as well but I dont have any photos of that & I remember that elijah got in trouble for being mean to this other kid ☠

back home and steve caught up with raj, they did actually have a small fight the last they saw one another but they seem to have squashed the beef AHAHAH I have no idea what raj's deal was 🤷‍♀️❤

then they were #men and they fixed the bathroom

then I think they hit the gym together whilst june was at the spice festival with her friends

during the week, steve & june took the kids out to a kareoke place that you guys might recognise from the start of this legacy 🥺💖

THEN, some more cozy photos from just them enjoying life / hanging out indoors

before the start of a super EXCITING chapter, when steve & june went to go and look at a house 2gether in the bay 😊🙌❤ (built by softerhaze)

and june fell in love at first sight (especially with the garden)

they dont quite have the cash (understandably) so they decided to take out a mortgage for $25,000

meanwhile, whilst they were working all of that out & preparing to move it was adelaide's birthday

she wasnt very impressed by her gifts though even though stephen probably worked 30 hours for them JDHJDGHJDGJDH

he did get her a guitar though, and she was very grateful for that one

after that I FINALLY had them move

and heres a picture of their kitchen for some reason (post renovation)

suburban bliss at last 💕🤸‍♂️

before / next

[the-golden-comet]

💋💖✨Friday Kiss Tag/Writing Share/Writing Update 💋💖✨

Happy Friday! Thank you very much for all the writing share/ writing updates tags:

@gioiaalbanoart here

@lychhiker-writes here and here

@drchenquill here

@frostedlemonwriter here

@finickyfelix here

Rules: For this week, you may either choose a kiss, a last line, a writing share, or a writing update!

I will choose a kiss from Peter Hart. This scene takes place after Peter and Benjamin nearly lost their lives, and they figured they’d go out with a kiss (and a bang). The crew manages to catch up to the duo, and while they could save their lives…they couldn’t save the embarrassment (of Benji and the rest of the crew):

“Captain….” Davey coughed awkwardly, trying to get his attention.

Nope. They couldn’t hear. Peter continued making out with Benji as they were in their own, happy world. Their eyes were gently closed, and Benjamin’s face was entirely red with blush.

“….Captain.” Davey tried again, this time a bit more firmly, with a very annoyed tone.

Still in blissful ignorance, coming off of their high, Peter continued wetly and loudly smooching Benjamin as their lips and jaws worked an intoxicating rhythm.

I will leave this as an +open tag for anyone wishing to indulge in the smoochins! If you’ve tagged me recently in games, thank you! I see them, and I appreciate them. However, I am very behind and may miss some. Feel free to keep tagging me, but just know I may miss a few. 🫠

✨👇 Tag list below for story tidbits. DM me if you’d like to be added👇 ✨

Tag List for writing tidbits (lmk if you want + or -)

@autism-purgatory , @jev-urisk , @talesofsorrowandofruin , @sunglasses-in-the-bentley , @wyked-ao3 , @glasshouses-and-stones , @alinacapellabooks , @gioiaalbanoart , @fortunatetragedy , @deanwax , @dyrewrites , @honeybewrites , @drchenquill , @paeliae-occasionally , @lychhiker-writes , @thatuselesshuman , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @katenewmanwrites , @zackprincebooks , @fantasy-things-and-such , @finickyfelix , @billybatsonmylove , @madi-konrad , @houseplantblank , @far-cry-from-finality , @froggy-pposto , @fractured-shield , @avaseofpeonies , @topazadine , @thecoolerlucky , @theaistired , @willtheweaver , @rivenantiqnerd @somethingclevermahogony , @noxxytocin , @leahnardo-da-veggie , @addicted2coke-theothercoke , @illarian-rambling

[weemssapphic]

Do you think you could do a fic where the reader has a chronic illness? I don’t have a preference for which Gwendoline Christie character you choose, they’re all lovely. Any genre 💗💗💗

A/N: thank you SO much for this request. as a chronically ill girlie i love the idea of writing more fics like this - both hurt/comfort style but i guess also just reader having an illness and it being apart of their every day life. huge thank you to @eveymay for helping me brainstorm characters and settle on jan stevens - i think she'd be the most considerate, sweetest person to comfort someone. and thank you so much to @milfsloverblog for helping me to beta - i trust her as my number one source for everything jan stevens. anyway i hope you enjoy 💖

slow down, you’re doing fine

Jan Stevens x reader

Words: ~2.8k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: hurt/comfort, discussion of chronic pain and illness (symptoms such as fatigue, pain, dizziness, brain fog, nausea), migraine

“Hurry up! We’re leaving, you’re going to be late.” Elle’s words were accompanied by a knock on the bathroom door, and you couldn’t help but clench your jaw. 

“Just go ahead without me, I’ll catch up,” you replied - you heard a huff, and then the shuffle of footsteps moving away from the door. With a sigh, you directed your gaze into the mirror, regarding yourself carefully as your lips settled into a deep frown. You looked tired. Fitting, considering how poorly you’d been sleeping this past week. So not only did you feel like shit today - you looked like shit, too. Cool.

You’d started your residency at the Sonic Catering Institute with your group a few months ago and so far it had been like a dream come true. You finally had the time to devote yourself 100% to the pursuit of art - nearly all your time was spent rehearsing, experimenting and performing. Every day was dedicated to your craft, and it was your version of bliss.

But even bliss was hard to enjoy with a chronic illness - you constantly felt as though you were seconds away from crumbling, as though one bad day could take away everything you’d worked so hard to achieve. You’d been having a flare-up the past few days (as you seemed to have every few weeks lately, almost like clockwork) - every evening you would go to bed and pray that, come morning, your body would afford you some brief reprieve. It never really did, of course - today was no different.

A dull throbbing could be felt behind your eyes - ever present, but no less painful or frustrating - and your joints ached before you’d even moved a muscle. You’d briefly considered staying in bed today - getting up meant facing the day, meant facing your body. But staying in bed meant having to call in sick - it meant curious looks from your bandmates, it meant disappointing Jan Stevens.

Oh, Jan - infamous, enigmatic director of the Sonic Catering Institute. Your relationship was still fairly new and, well… undefined. She flirted with you relentlessly, and you flirted back, though neither of you had made a move yet. Sometimes you caught her watching you, or staring at your lips a bit too long as you spoke, but someone else was always there to interrupt the two of you. Still, you found yourself dying to impress Jan, to get closer to her, to be with her even.

So, no, staying in bed wasn’t an option. It’s not like it would magically make you feel better anyway. You’d still feel like shit - you’d just be in bed instead. 

After a few minutes of just holding yourself up on the edge of the sink, you went about your morning routine, mechanically half-assing all the necessary steps - brushing your teeth, brushing your hair, splashing water on your face.

Getting dressed was a little more challenging - it was the more exhausting part of your routine, and it was on days like today that you wished you’d chosen some stupid work-from-home job at a computer instead of your current career, if only so that you could show up to work in your pajamas and no one would care. A small (or maybe not all that small) part of your mind wandered to Jan, however, so you grimaced as you attempted to look your best for her.

~~~

Getting through the day was more of a challenge than you thought it would be. During your weekly meeting to go over notes and changes to performance techniques, you were seated directly next to Elle as she engaged in a heated discussion with Jan - Elle’s raised voice directly in your ear was enough to make your head pound viciously. You wouldn’t take pain meds yet, though - you didn’t want to risk them wearing off before the concert tonight. 

Every so often, Jan’s impenetrable gaze would flick over to you. She seemed to be able to tell that something was off - red lips pursing in thought, deep blue eyes regarding you curiously under heavy black lashes.

Elle ended up storming out of the meeting, with Lamina close behind, already beginning to argue with her. Stones excused himself, one hand on his stomach as he rushed out of the room. That left you and Jan as you slowly packed your things, feeling her gaze upon you.

Jan flashed you a smile and stood from her seat, walking over to your side of the table with her voluminous white skirt swishing behind her. She perched herself on the edge of the table in front of you, placing a hand on the papers you were about to pick up, effectively stilling your movements.

“Well, well, I finally have you alone,” she said playfully as she loomed over you - her height was as intimidating to you as it was attractive, and you swallowed visibly.

“Jan Stevens.” You tilted your head in acknowledgement. Normally, you would have thrilled at such an opportunity - right now, though, you wished you were curled up in a ball in bed.

You attempted to slide your papers out from underneath Jan’s hand - her eyes dropped to the table and she placed her hand over yours. “They’re so pretty - your hands, I mean. Here, let’s compare sizes.” She lifted her hand and nodded eagerly at you - mesmerized, you couldn’t help but place your palm against hers - it was larger than your own, her fingers longer. It was surprisingly warm and oh so soft and you felt a spark of electricity go through your body when your bare skin touched hers.

“Oh! Look how well they fit together.” Jan’s lips pulled into a wide grin and she batted her lashes, her fingers curling slightly around yours. “A perfect match!”

You flushed, feeling a warmth rising in your face, and you pulled your hand away with a timid smile. “Y-yeah.”

Perhaps, if you’d felt a little better, a little less like complete garbage, you might have had the energy to flirt back - but it seemed your traitorous body couldn’t even let you have that much, unable to summon up the effort for a witty comeback. 

Jan’s brows knit together, her lips parted slightly as she searched your face. “Are you alright?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You offered her a weak smile. Jan looked skeptical, watching as you stuffed your papers into your bag and stood - too quickly, apparently, as you swayed slightly and your vision became hazy around the edges. You tipped forward a bit, catching yourself on the table and taking deep breaths, waiting for the room to stop spinning.

Jan pushed off the table in an instant, standing behind you and placing a hand on the small of your back - you couldn’t help but shiver.

“Are you not feeling well, darling?” she asked, her voice gentle and breathy.

“What?” You gave her your best doe eyes, hoping she wouldn’t probe you further. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“Will you be alright to perform tonight?” You could sense the anxiety radiating off of her in waves - you knew how much pressure she’d been under lately, and it was one more reason why you couldn’t let her down.

“Yes, of course.” You used all the effort you could summon up to beam at her, hoping it would set her mind at ease. “Please, don’t worry about me.”

Jan looked slightly unconvinced, but she nodded and smiled all the same.

“Then I’ll see you tonight,” she murmured. With a curious glance and a moment’s hesitation, she leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your skin tingled pleasantly where her lips had been moments before, and you felt butterflies in your stomach. She reached out a hand to help you stand, watching as you left the room.

~~~

The rest of the afternoon passed by torturously slowly as you attempted to avoid all human interaction and wait for your pain meds to kick in - they never did. The concert was even worse. Your body was screaming at you to get some rest, but you couldn’t risk your residency - and, most of all, you didn’t want to let Jan down. So you tried to smile through it, pretending like the sound of the flanger wasn’t making your head pulse and like standing for an hour and a half wasn’t making your body ache and like the stuffy air, filled with the scent of various cooking foods, wasn’t making you feel dizzy and extremely nauseous.

And then there was the orgy after the concert - the mere thought of attending made you feel ill. You wanted to - you knew Jan would be there watching, and you would do anything for Jan. But a wave of nausea hit you just before entering the room, so you rushed to the bathroom instead. You left the bathroom door open - everyone else was at the orgy, surely no one would even notice you were gone. You sat on the floor in front of the toilet, a cool, damp washcloth pressed to your forehead. The nausea had begun to settle, but you were so tired and the bathroom tiles were pleasantly cool, so you stayed there, eyes closed, head leaned back against the wall.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the clicking of approaching heels - it wasn’t until you heard a voice in the doorway that you jumped a bit, your eyes snapping open.

“You’re not feeling well.”

Jan Stevens looked down at you, eyes flooded with concern. It wasn’t a question - rather, it was a statement - and you almost tried to deny it - then your eyes flicked to the toilet in front of you and you realized you couldn’t hide from Jan any longer. 

“Yeah… I feel like shit, to be honest,” you admitted quietly, not quite able to meet Jan’s gaze - afraid of the disappointment you’d surely see there.

The taller woman surprised you by stepping towards you and sliding down the wall until she was sitting next to you - close enough for her scent, light and floral, to fill your nostrils, but not close enough to touch you. You looked at her curiously.

“I’ve been missing you tonight. I was wondering where you’d gone.”

The thought of Jan Stevens - the Jan Stevens - missing you made your stomach do a somersault, your heart beginning to pound violently.

“I had a date with an old friend,” you joked, tilting your head towards the toilet. Jan’s lips curved up into a smile, before she turned serious again.

“You’re ill. You could have told me.” Her voice held no reproach or anger - it was soft and gentle; if anything, she sounded worried. “You could have stayed in bed today, skipped the concert.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint or- or worry anyone. Especially you.” You added that last part quietly but from the way Jan’s eyes widened, you were certain she’d heard you loud and clear.

You chewed your lip as you searched for the right words - a way to convey how you felt without giving cause for too much concern. “If I stayed in bed every time I felt like this, I don’t think I’d ever get out of bed.” You tried to keep your voice light, chuckling slightly - one of your biggest fears was always being misunderstood, not being taken seriously, being seen as useless due to your illness.

Jan reached out for your hand, threading her fingers between your own. 

“What is it? Can you describe it to me?”

No one had ever really asked for details about your illness before - some people asked to be polite, but Jan seemed so sincere, like she really cared. You cleared your throat nervously. “Well, part of it is chronic migraines. They’re, uh… not really treatable. I get nauseous a lot, and sometimes I get dizzy when I stand. I’m also really, um, tired all the time? Tired isn’t the right word, it’s more like exhausted. And it’s not just my head that hurts, it’s everything, all the time.”

You paused, thinking for a moment. “Doctors haven’t figured out why yet, it’s kind of hard to be taken seriously. But sometimes it’s bearable, you know? Like, it’s there but I can deal with it. But sometimes I flare up and that’s… harder.”

Jan nodded along as you spoke, her eyes scanning your face with great interest - when you finished, she was silent for a moment. Just as you began to wonder if you’d said too much, she stood and reached out her arms to you. 

“Come with me,” she said. You furrowed your brow but allowed her to pull you into a standing position, and then she took you by the arm and escorted you out of the bathroom - you didn’t realize where she was leading you until you were ushered into her bedroom, the door closing behind you.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable here tonight. It’s just me here, you know. And you won’t have to worry about the others getting back late and disturbing your sleep.” She regarded you carefully, some emotion you couldn’t quite identify swimming in her cerulean pools.

You felt your cheeks grow warm, nerves washing over you as you looked around the spacious room, eyeing the large, luxurious bed. “You’re right, that does sound nice. I just…”

“What is it?” Jan asked, suddenly looking utterly nervous. 

“I don’t want to impose, is all - this is your private space and-”

“Is it imposing if I want you here, darling?” Jan cut you off, her lashes fluttering as she watched you drink in the space.

“Uh… no, I suppose not.” You smiled hesitantly - Jan’s smile matched your own.

“Then you just stay right here, darling. I’ll get you something to wear.”

Jan left you standing at the center of the room to head to her walk-in closet, coming back with a pair of silk pajamas and directing you to her en-suite bathroom, where she pointed out an extra toothbrush. Soon you were ready for bed and, at Jan’s insistence, you settled back on the plush mattress - it was large and comfortable, and you found your fatigued body sinking into it, your eyes fluttering closed in momentary bliss.

When you opened your eyes, Jan stood at the edge of the bed watching you, a small, adoring smile playing on her lips.

“I suppose you’d like to go back to the orgy then?” you asked quietly, feeling a familiar gnawing sense of guilt at taking up too much of Jan’s time, at asking too much from her and taking too much.

Jan hesitated, stepping even closer to the bed. “What if I want to stay here with you? Will you have me?”

“Of course,” you breathed, your stomach fluttering and your eyes widening.

A wide smile bloomed on Jan’s face, and she left the room for a minute, her hips swaying and her dress swishing back and forth. She came back in light pink, silk pajamas with a matching bonnet that had two long bunny ears dangling from the sides, perching herself on the edge of the bed. You couldn’t help yourself - you pushed yourself up and ran a hand over one of the silky, dangly ears and let out a giggle.

“What?” Jan eyed you curiously.

“Nothing,” you said sheepishly, your face flushing. “I just find you very endearing, Jan Stevens.”

That remark earned you the warmest smile you’d ever received.

After such a long day, lying in the warmest, most comfortable bed you’ve slept in in a while, you allowed your body to go limp. The aches and pains were still present, of course they were, but exhaustion was slowly taking over and your eyelids were beginning to grow heavy as Jan tucked you securely under the duvet. Jan’s scent surrounded you - it was everywhere: on her sheets, her pillows, her clothes, clinging to the air. On her, as she snuggled in next to you, eyeing you intently - those deep blue irises sparkling with adoration.

A question formed on the tip of your tongue, one that suddenly began to nag you as you felt the pull of sleep, one that you couldn’t leave unasked: “Will I still be welcome here in the morning?” It came out a low mumble as you tried not to let your sudden apprehension become too apparent.

Jan furrowed her brow, her face falling slightly as adoration and awe morphed into confusion and concern in equal parts. “Of course, silly.” She gave you a reassuring smile and placed a warm hand on your arm as she scooted closer to you, daring to rest her head on your chest. “You know, I’d like to have you in my bed when you aren’t in pain, too.”

Your belly tingled pleasantly as a shy smile spread across your face. “I’d like that very much.”

x

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Join my taglist here! :)

[sainzfilm]

Lando Norris + domestic bliss please! I absolutely love your writing <3

pairing: lando norris x reader

a/n: i just love pure domestic bliss in any kind of form and this had me YEARNING but anyways enjoy my lovelies 💖 ALSO HELLO IM BACK. this week literally ended me but anyways

taglist: @svechyaho @squderia @idkiwantchocolatee @melonunicornbby @koufaxx @myescapefromthislife @slut-era @pachiibatt @nicolesainz @estevries @barzysreputation @sidcrosbyspuck @verclercswiftie @mick2mercedes @mehrmonga @frenchgirlsblog @inlovewithcarsthatrunreallyfast

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

When Lando feels the consciousness seep through his body, he blinked a few times to realize the sun was shining brightly through the blinds on your window. Chuckling softly to himself, he looked down to see your sleeping figure that was snoring lightly. He leaned down to place a soft kiss on your forehead, which caused you to stir and stretch your legs out before looking up at him with a sleepy smile.

“Good morning, darling,” Lando smiled, rubbing your back gently, “You want to get breakfast?”

Shaking your head, you snuggled closer to your boyfriend and draped your leg over his hip, “It’s too early.”

“I doubt it is,” He mumbled, grabbing his phone to check the time and turned it back off, “It’s quarter to eight. You sure you’re not hungry?”

Before you could disagree, your grumbling stomach gave you away, which elicited a hearty laugh from Lando and you smiled sheepishly up at him, “On second thought, maybe I am.”

Lando sat up on the bed and patted your head gently before exiting the room to prepare breakfast in the kitchen, “Just follow when you’re ready getting up.”

As you laid in bed for a few more minutes, you yawned and rubbed your eyes before getting up and dragging your feet to the kitchen to inhale the smell of pancakes being cooked.

“You want some coffee, love?” You mumble, hugging him from behind and looking up at him, “Latte or cappuccino?”

Lando kissed the top of your head before flipping the pancakes and waiting for it to cook, “A latte would be lovely.”

Responding with a hum, you pulled away to make coffee for the two of you while Lando set the pancakes on a plate, “You wanna do anything today?”

“I don’t know actually,” You shrugged, setting the mug down on the kitchen island and grabbing the place mats and utensils, “I was thinking that we could just stay at home?”

Lando grinned, turning to look at you as he set the plate full of pancakes on the table, “Our minds amazing as always.”

“Plus, I think our apartment needs general cleaning,” You trailed off, grabbing a pitcher of water and sitting down on the chair, “Don’t think you’re going to lounge around.”

“Oh, c’mon,” He pouted, taking the seat across you and grabbing pancakes with the fork and knife to set some on your plate, “I wanted to watch films with you!”

“Tsk, I sense a liar when I hear one,” You clicked your tongue and placed some maple syrup over his pancakes and yours, “You don’t even like the films I like!”

“They’re too serious and dark,” Lando defended as he sliced his pancakes and took a bite, “Way too long, too!”

“Excuse me, it’s cinema at its finest,” You argued, mirroring his actions, “You have to be an individual of taste to appreciate it.”

Lando rolled his eyes and pointed the fork towards you as he chewed the pancakes in his mouth, eliciting a snicker from you, “I am a man of taste. I’m dating you.”

“Oh please, Mr. Norris,” You laughed and threw your head back, “Stop with the flatteries.”

“Takes one to know one,” He grinned, taking a sip of his coffee before leaning over the table to wipe the maple syrup from the corner of your mouth, “Such a messy eater.”

Smiling softly, you leaned back on your chair with your cup of coffee in your hands, “Second floor yours, first floor mine?”

“Under one condition though,” Lando looked at you, a teasing glint in his eyes, “I’m not tending the garden.”

“Not tending the garden, you say,” You raised an eyebrow, setting down the mug on the table and crossing your arms, “You wanna sleep on the couch?”

“It’s a lot of work,” He whined, a frown etched on his face, “I don’t wanna do it by myself.”

“Sometimes I wonder how much of an idiot you are,” You nonchalantly stated, whacking the backside of his head with your free hand as you brought the dishes to the sink, “You’re helping me!”

Lando laughed as he stood up to follow you and hug your side while you washed the dishes, “I’m kidding, of course I will!”

“You’re just saying that so you don’t sleep on the couch,” You smiled teasingly, splashing water on him, “Stop being a koala.”

“I’m your favorite koala anyways,” He grinned, hugging you tighter and kissing your temple, “I love you.”

You turned to look at him with a small smile, referencing a film franchise that you two loved the most, “I know.”

bonus scene!

Liked by pierregasly, georgerussell63, and 272,363 others

yourusername mr. norris is not a very good cleaner 🫤

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georgerussell63 little lando taking his nap ❤️

alex_albon little lando probably got a sugar crash

landonorris little lando will crash into your car in the next season 👍🏻

charles_leclerc well, looks like somebody has to take a screenshot for future purposes

twitchquartet ABSOLUTE CHILDREN 😭

norrisgirl i bet lando ditched on tending the garden

mclarenslando i think so too, Y/N has mentioned that a few times on live

landonorris this is blackmail i actually cleaned 😠💔

yourusername yeah cleaned the dust on the floor with your drool

carlossainz55 this is why i approve of Y/N so much for you, muppet 😊

[wardenparker]

The Viper’s Bride - ch 8

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 16.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid* Oral sex (m receiving), hair pulling, vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Mentions of Elia's fate (sexual assault and murder). Voyeurism, technically? Intimate touching/nonsexual intimacy. Brief mentions of pregnancy/childbirth/mortality in childbirth. Misogyny. Ellaria being an absolute badass. Stabbing. We respect sex workers here, but Petyr Baelish does not (asshole). Mention of forced medical procedure. Summary: A blissful morning after is interrupted by an unwelcome guest with even more unwelcome news. Notes: I have been waiting entire WEEKS to use this gif. Apologies for any technical difficulties with links and missing tags in this chapter - I posted about it last night but I experienced even more trouble as the night went on. 💖

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7

Your eyes open with the birdsong the next morning, drifting back to reality from the bliss of happy dreams. Oberyn's frame weighs you down in the plush bed, his leg hooked over yours and seemingly his whole torso on your back with his arms around you to hold you close. With the whole great expanse of bed to lay out in, he has attached himself to you even in sleep. It makes you hum softly and curl even deeper into his hold. As if you could burrow into his side so entirely that you would never have to leave.

Despite the excess and indulgences that Oberyn partakes in regularly, he is also a warrior. A man who has ridden with the Second Sons and even commanded his own company of men. He has warred in multiple locations and lived under the hardest conditions, awake and fighting at a moment's notice. When you move, his eyes open, focusing immediately before he allows himself to soften and hum against your neck. "Does the sun break over the horizon or is my lady wife an early riser?" He rasps into your ear.

"Your lady wife is a light sleeper," you mumble, turning your head to indulge in a long kiss good morning. Your thighs ache from last night's tumbling just as you had hoped and it is a welcome, wonderful feeling. "The birdsong roused me. Go back to sleep, my prince."

"Hmmm." Oberyn smirks at you and shakes his head. "It is too late, my cock has decided to awaken." He growls with a leering look down your body, and his hand slides up to cup your breast and pinch your nipple sharply.

The rasping moan it earns from you seems to please him, and your whole body instantly awakens at his touch. "How does my husband like his pleasure in the morning?" You are entirely soft and pliant at the moment, willing to give him what he wishes as he gave to you last night.

“I think I want my Princess to ride my cock.” He chuckles throatily. “Let me bite and lick your tits while you gallop to pleasure.”

Yes, your legs will ache all the more from such early exertions, but that is the furthest thing from your mind at the moment. You shift in his arms to straddle his waist easily, resting your weight on his thighs for a moment as you look down at him. His half-roused cock lies thick and proud against his belly, and for a moment you hesitate before deciding that he deserves as much indulgence this morning as you can muster. Instead of wrapping your hands around his length to stroke him to hardness, you move back and bend down, taking his cock into your mouth with an approving hum.

Hissing in pleasure, Oberyn’s hand wraps around your plait again, his hips rocking up to chase the tease touch of your tongue. “Fuck.” He groans, enjoying the very pleased look on your face as you hollow your cheeks. “Have you enjoyed sucking your lover’s cock?” He asks, twitching and hardening even more in your mouth.

Not willing to sacrifice having him in your mouth to answer, you hum in agreement and bob your head as if to nod. It is one of Raeden's favorite indulgences and you learned the skill well to please him.

“Hmmmm.” He groans, leaning back against the bed and closes his eyes. “You have talent.” He praises breathlessly. The praise washes through and encourages you to work harder, to take him deeper and use your hand well on what you cannot swallow. His vocal appreciation for your efforts has awoken your own desires, making your cunt ache and quiver with anticipation.

It doesn’t take long for Oberyn to tire of your mouth, talented as it might be. He wants to see you ride him. Tugging on your hair, he pulls you off his cock. “Mount me, wife.” He orders harshly.

You discovered long ago that you despise taking orders in life, which made your position all the more difficult. But in bed with a lover, to be needed or desired that badly is something you have found intoxicating. This morning, it makes you look up at him and smirk boldly, popping off of his cock with a sinfully wet sound. “The prince does not like his seed to be wasted?” You guess with a teasing air as you move forward to position yourself over him.

"I wish to feel your cunt around me." He rocks his hips up impatiently. He has not yet had his fill of your cunt and wants to be inside you before he cums. Although the smirk and sass that you give him makes him even harder, watching you become emboldened by your freedom with him.

You are slower to impale yourself on him than he was to bury himself last night, only by virtue of wanting to draw out the delectable feeling. Your pussy stretches to take him without resistance but it does push a soft moan from your lips. Once he is fully seated inside you, though, you start to move immediately. The feeling of him is too good to waste.

Your cunt lips are stretched wide around him and his hands on your hips move so he can pull your clit back so he can see more of your delicious cunt impaled on him. "Beautiful star." He groans passionately, looking up at you before one hand slides up to cup your breast.

“Do you like to watch me take you, husband?” The idea makes you groan, leaning back to brace your hands above his knees while you move.

"Yes." He grunts, biting his bottom lip until it is plump from the blood. Fingers digging into your skin and he hisses when you clench around him. His grip loosens and he palms it gently. "I find that your cunt is made for me."

“Then your cock must be made for me.” It is boldness that makes you talk that way, you know that, but a part of you almost feels the truth in it. Though – you must remember that you felt that way about Raeden as well. Perhaps you simply enjoy the pleasures of the flesh more than you knew.

Oberyn groans, arching a brow as your answer surprises him and even more, he agrees with it. “Perhaps it is, princess.” He huffs. “Perhaps it is.” Your hips are squeezed, then slapped as you ride him.

He delighted in your sounds last night so you do not hold back this morning. It would be a thing of wonder to feel this free no matter who you have in your bed, and you wonder in the back of your mind what Ellaria will sound like when you one day taste her sex for the first time.

Your sounds are loud, lusty and he doesn't mind who hears them. Proud that you would make your pleasure known when you had confided that you had to be quiet in all your other encounters. While he knows that you will be loud with others, he revels in being the first that you find your voice with.

Your combined moans bounce off the walls of the chamber, echoing down the hall to alert any and all who are up this early that the prince has already begun his work for the day. It is a scene of ecstacy right until the doors open, and for a moment you decide not to care. Let Leyth see you like this. She has seen worse in her time, surely.

"It is interesting that you house your wife in a whorehouse, Prince Oberyn." Oberyn's eyes slide past you and lock on Tywin Lannister, his expression pinched in disapproval as if he has a shit he has been unable to get out. His eyes slide over your bare back, down to your ass and his brow arches, "unless that is not your lady wife bouncing on your cock like a whore, and then I must ask what her price is."

The deep voice startles you more than anything else, making you immediately cover yourself and look over your shoulder in a panic. You have only seen Tywin Lannister on one other occasion – the late king's wedding just days ago – but you will never forget the man's face. It seems to bleed hate in every direction. Before you can even breathe again you have slipped out of Oberyn's lap and burrowed under the many blankets on the bed as if you are trying to disappear.

His breeches are on the table next to the bed and Oberyn grabs them, sliding into them and standing up, hopping slightly as he pulls them up over his hips and turns to look at Tywin. He is not pleased about the interruption and he narrows his eyes. "You have a sense of timing." He huffs, turning his back on him again as he reaches for the butter yellow robes he had been wearing yesterday. Your own gown would be too cumbersome for you to get into, so he will put his robe on you.

The covering is gratefully accepted, and Oberyn wraps you in it with gentle hands and ties it around your waist to preserve the modesty that is so important to you. "Tywin Lannister?" You whisper, barely breathing, and he nods silently that you are correct.

"May we have the room? Or are you a man who allows his wife to hear his business?" Lord Tywin asks, seeming barely interested in the answer.

Oberyn doesn't answer the man, but he asks you a silent question, arching his brow. He wants to know if you wish to stay or go. If you wish to stay, Oberyn will obstinately state that his wife is allowed wherever she wishes to be and she wishes to be by his side. If you wish to go, he will pat you on the ass and send you in to your lover and Ellaria.

The question is whether to cave to embarrassment or to exert yourself as a proud and steadfast wife, and it is a harder question to answer than you are proud of. While it would certainly be more comfortable to leave, that is not the role you wish to fulfill. You nod your head subtly, telling your husband that you wish to stay, and fiddle with the ring that he gave you yesterday for only a moment. "Wine, Lord Tywin?" You ask, as brightly and easily as if he had just stumbled into the sitting room at your father's estate.

His puzzlement only flashes across his eyes for a moment, and he nearly chuckles at how easily you seem to bounce back from the momentary mortification of being taken for a whore. "No, thank you."

"My wife goes wherever I wish and I wish for her to be by my side." Oberyn reaches for the small shawl to wrap around his shoulders. Smirking slightly at how you hold your head high and walk across the room to the table as if you were holding court instead of dressed in his robe with your legs bare.

Lord Tywin watches as you pour two glasses of wine and deliver one to Prince Oberyn, but pays it no mind. As he understands it, the marriage is but days old and done in haste. You will tire of each other before long. "There are matters to discuss," he declares though his air is still as careless as if he was discussing the weather. "Between you and I, Prince Oberyn."

He understands that is yet again another hint to send you away and yet, Oberyn smirks quietly. "Would you like to sit?" Oberyn offers, gesturing to the bed. If he knows the uptight prick he will not take the offer.

"No, thank you." He doesn't disappoint and since you have already offered him wine, Obyern takes a sip of his own.

"I am sorry about your grandson." He tells the man.

"Are you?" Lannister seems surprised at that, but only his voice and not his face or manner would ever let anyone know that.

"I don't believe that a child is responsible for the sins of his father." Oberyn takes a sip of his wine and lowers his cup. "Or his grandfather." He hums. "An awful way to die."

"Which way is that?" The unmoving nobleman barely lifts an eyebrow. You can feel the measured way he stands, the aura he gives off simply by being in such close quarters with him. Tywin Lannister reeks of quiet calculation and strategy, and your dislike for the man grows instantly.

Oberyn turns and faces the man directly, knowing the question would come eventually. "Are you interrogating me, Lord Tywin?" He asks boldly.

Tywin doesn't fluster or excuse his question. "Some believe the king choked." He manages to keep his voice even and convey derision at that idea at the same time.

"Some believe the sky is blue." Oberyn counters, "because we live inside the eye of a blue-eyed giant." He flops back down elegantly on the bed and looks over at you before back at the head of the Lannister family. "The king was poisoned."

"I hear you studied poisons at the Citadel." The accusation comes as cool and clear as if he was stating a fact, and you have to stop yourself from reacting instantly. A reaction would be defensive and make Oberyn look guilty. Just like defending your brother over stealing sweets as children had always given you away to your septa.

The accusation doesn't phase Oberyn. "I did." He tells Tywin. "This is why I know." He takes another sip of his wine.

"Your hatred for my family is rather well known." Tywin lays out. "You arrive at the capitol, an expert in poisoning, some days later, my grandson dies of poisoning."

"Rather suspicious." Oberyn agrees. "Why haven't you thrown me in a dungeon?" He asks curiously.

You open your mouth to bite back at Lord Tywin but the nobleman mows over you as if he has entirely forgotten you are in the room. It makes you far more angry than you would have expected, but you certainly are not taking kindly to the line of questions he is taking with your husband. "You spoke with Tyrion in this very brothel on the day that you arrived. What did you discuss?"

Amusement laces Oberyn's tone as he sits up. "You think we conspired together?" He asks.

Tywin doesn't answer, instead he asks again, "What did you discuss?"

"The death of my sister." Oberyn walks towards the taller man.

"For which you blame me." Tywin drones.

"She was raped and murdered by the Mountain." Oberyn stares the man down. "The Mountain follows your orders. Of course I blame you."

The head of House Lannister nearly shrugs, but that would be too undignified a movement. "Here I stand unarmed and unguarded. Should I be concerned?"

"With a witness, Lord Tywin?" You tick one eyebrow up at him, watching your husband saunter closer to the man he names as his greatest enemy. "Or do wives only count as wallpaper?"

Oberyn smirks, proud of your comment. "You are unarmed and unguarded because you know me better than that." He hums. "I am a man of reason. If I cut your throat today I will be drawn and quartered tomorrow."

Lannister's eyes flash back to you on the bed but he says nothing to you. His business is not with you this time. "Men at war commit all kinds of crimes without their superiors' knowledge." He reminds the prince, but there is an air of satisfaction there that rings out and you do not like it at all.

"So you deny involvement in Elia's murder?" Oberyn demands.

"Categorically." Tywin murmurs, although it feels as false as his making you for a whore.

Oberyn stares at him for a long moment, rage filling his veins but he simply smirks and turns back to you on the bed to pick up his wine cup. "I would like to speak with the Mountain."

"I'm sure he would enjoy speaking with you." Lord Tywin Lannister is not a fool. He knows there are secrets in this marriage between the infamous prince with many bastards and the daughter from the Vale that all at court had either forgotten about or assumed would end a spinster. He simply does not know what those secrets are. Unfortunately for him, you seem thoroughly infatuated with your husband. That will make you harder to break.

"He might not enjoy it as much as he thinks." Oberyn hums, amusing himself as he imagines snuffing the life out of the Mountain slowly. He picks up a berry from the table and pops it into his mouth.

Tywin seems amused and he starts walking towards him. "I could arrange for this meeting." He offers.

Oberyn is no fool and he sits down on the bed beside you. "But you want something in return."

"There will be a trial for my son. And as custom dictates, three judges will render a verdict." As Lord Tywin comes closer, the conversation now seems to be suitable for your ears as well, and he casts a glance down at you wrapped in your husband's robe before looking back to Oberyn. " I will preside. Mace Tyrell will serve as the second judge." A fact he seems less than thrilled about but has obviously deemed necessary. "I would like you to be the third."

Oberyn is eating again throughout Twyin's little speech and he arches a brow. "Why?"

"Not long ago, the Tyrells sided with Renly Baratheon." Tywin reveals. "Declared themselves enemies of the throne. Now they are our strongest allies.”

Oberyn huffs. "Well, you made the Tyrell girl a queen." He snarks. "Asking me to judge at your son's trial isn't quite as tempting."

"I will also ask you to sit on the small council to serve as one of the new king's principal advisors." The Lannister does not miss a beat, though he seems increasingly annoyed at Oberyn’s flippancy. "A residence in the capital dignified enough for your bride, of course, would be offered with such a position."

Obeyrn sets his cup down and turns around. "I never realized you had such respect for Dorne, Lord Tywin."

Tywin looks pained as he admits, "we are not the Seven Kingdoms until Dorne returns to the fold. The king is dead. The Greyjoys are in open rebellion. A wildling army marches on the Wall." Twyin paces past you and towards the window. "And in the East, a Targaryen girl has three dragons." Oberyn turns to look at the lord as he absorbs this news. If Doran knew of it, he did not reveal it before he had left for King's Landing. "Before long, she will turn her eyes to Westeros. Only the Dornish managed to resist Aegon Targaryen and his dragons."

"You're saying you need us." You murmur in recognition, including yourself amongst the numbers of the Dornish. You may not yet have set foot there, or begun to understand your true duties, but you are a princess of Dorne with Dornish blood in your veins.

Oberyn can tell that your comment irritates Tywin, which means that it is true. "That must be hard for you to admit." He tells the Hand. Tywin jerks his head slightly, fidgeting as if he wished to shake off the unpleasant truth.

"We need each other." He manages after an insincere smile. "You help me serve justice to the king's assassins, and I will help you serve justice to Elia's."

For a moment there is tense silence in the room, and then Tywin Lannister makes a grandiose show of holding his hand out to the Dornish prince. An offer is on the table. An opportunity to see through the thing that he knows Oberyn wants more than anything in this world – for his sister's brutalization and murder to be avenged. It is not a truce, but an agreement that each has something the other needs, and you all but hold your breath waiting to see what your husband will decide.

Oberyn stares at the man's hand for far longer than polite, making him think that he might not have sold his proposal. Only when he sees the doubt in the man's eyes does he reach out and capture his hand, shaking it with a smirking warning. "I do things my way, Lord Tywin."

"I did not expect anything else." The older man seems reluctant in his admittance of this fact but at least he has gotten what he needs. "I will have your quarters prepared for you at the Keep. A suite for you and your bride should suffice nicely." When his eyes turn to you they are icy cold. "I hear she is fond of the library."

“We will stay here.” Oberyn insists.

"It is hardly a long-term residence for a member of the small council." Tywin knew this would be a sticking point. That the prince's desire to keep far away from the place where his sister died would complicate issues. "The position affords you the comfort and prestige of a residence in the Red Keep. It is expected."

Frowning, Oberyn’s jaw clenches as he turns towards you. He had not anticipated staying longer than another week, but it might be longer if he sits in the small council. Your eyes are warm, and he smirks before he turns back to the Lannister. “I will need more rooms.” He tells Tywin. “For my lover, and for my servants.” He chuckles. “I have grown very fond of the service I receive here and I do not think the Red Keep can compare.”

The sound that the Lannister patriarch expels is caught between a tut and a chuckle, as if the prince's demands are ostentatious and amusing. A thing to entertain oneself with for a short amount of time and nothing more. A mere trifle. "I will arrange your accommodations," he nods, looking between you. "And send word when your rooms are ready."

“Now if you will excuse me, Lord Tywin.” Oberyn tosses off the shawl and crawls back onto the bed with a lecherous smirk. “I have a gorgeous young wife who I need to fill with my seed.”

"Of course." He strolls from the room without another word, thinking as loudly as he can that the prince's wife is not nearly as young as she should be if he intends to breed her.

Instead of kissing you, or starting to remove your clothes, Oberyn lays beside you, reaching out and caressing your hand. “What did you think of your first small council meeting?”

Waiting until you can hear the door at the end of the hall shut tight, you exhale slowly and look back at your husband with concern. "He wants more from you than he is saying," you murmur, keeping your voice low out of an abundance of concern. This feels like any average week with your upset mother as a child, laying in your brothers' bed with them and trying to figure out how to soothe her. "I do not know what, but we should be on our guard."

“Of course he does.” Oberyn agrees easily. “He is a Lannister. They always want more.” The smirk slides into a frown and he hates the thought of living in that fucking keep for even a day. “But I will not give him more than I wish to,” he assures you, leaning in and kissing your lips. “It means I must decide what I wish to do.” He pulls away and sighs softly, “I must go.” He tells you. “Talk to my men. You stay here with your lover and Ellaria.”

"Will you tell me what you decide?" You ask, concerned that this may be the threshold of what he includes you in.

He nods seriously. “Despite what the north might think, a Princess of Dorne must know what her husband knows.” He understands that he’s not bringing you now, but he needs to have some serious discussions with the men and that wouldn’t happen if he brought you.

"Do what you must, and we will be here for you when you return. But—" Your hand strikes out, caressing his cheek gently. "If you are to talk to your men, take Raeden with you. Ellaria and I will be safe here, and he must know all in order to protect us."

“Do not leave the brothel.” Oberyn cautions you, smirking slightly. “Maybe you and Ellaria can become better acquainted. A bath together?”

"I certainly need one," you huff slightly, half-rolling your eyes. "Or else I shall arrive at your side to the Red Keep smelling of sweat and cum."

“No sweeter scent to be had.” Oberyn chuckles, sliding his hand up your thigh and slapping your ass. “I will need my clothes.” He prompts. “As fetching as you look in them.”

"Of course." If you claimed that you had forgotten that you were wearing his robe it would be a lie, but it is soft and elegant and you cannot say that you do not enjoy wearing it. "My robe is in the other room." As if on cue, a soft moan sounds from beyond the door that connects to the chamber where Raeden and Ellaria slept last night. "It appears that our lovers are awake."

“They are.” He hums, listening to the sound of pleasure. “Should we watch?” He asks you seriously. “Do you wish to see your lover? Or wait until they are done?

"Let them enjoy their time," you decide, hearing Raeden's voice dip deep. Whatever Ellaria is doing, he is enjoying it thoroughly. "If you need to leave immediately, I will understand."

“It can wait.” He tosses his head back and looks up at the ceiling. “Damn Tywin and his sense of timing.”

"He could not have timed it better if he tried." Laying back in his arms, you frown at the thought. "I half suspect that he waited outside the room to make sure he was interrupting."

“It matters not.” Oberyn only hates that you felt exposed. His fingers drag down to the belt he had tied and quickly unknots it. “He will be jealous that he saw beauty he could not buy with his coins.” Once the robe falls open, his hand finds your breast and he palms it. “What does my Princess like in the mornings?”

“This,” you hum softly, leaning into his touch. Though it is not at all the question he is asking. “Will I not have plenty of things to keep me busy in the morning in Dorne? Running your household and seeing to royal duties?” Of course most responsibilities would fall to his brother’s wife, but to run a royal household will be a challenge to learn.

“No.” He hums in amusement. “The servants run the house.” He chuckles. “Is it not the way in your father’s house?”

“I did not think I would be cleaning a palace on my own,” you tease, laughing with him. “But who tells them what to cook for meals? When to expect visitors? Organize social events? Being a well-married woman is all about social engagements, according to my brothers’ wives.”

Oberyn scoffs and shakes his head. “Dorne is different. At least for my house.” He chuckles. “The cooks know our favorite foods and it will be a surprise to see who they cooked for that night when we sit down to eat.” He had thought it particularly genius of his brother’s wife to give them control over the food. “Unless there is a special event and then there will be arguments over what to serve with the cooks throwing things and shouting how their recipes are best.”

"I am sure I will learn what is expected of me soon enough." It sounds as though the things that you have been taught regarding how to run a household and be the lady of the house will not quite be right in Dorne. But this is not the time to agonize over that, considering Tywin Lannister has now bought your husband's presence in King's Landing for at least the next two weeks.

"Yes you will." He has no doubt that you will be a magnificent princess if your reactions to Lord Tywin's intrusion on a private moment is anything to go by. His eyes slide over your breast, watching as the bud of your nipple tightens, pulling the skin together. "How do you feel about staying in the Keep again?" He asks idly. "No doubt your bitch mother will moan to stay." He snorts. "Watch the festivities of Lord Tyrion's head being removed from his body."

"I will adjust, although I admit that the bath here is far superior to the one I had in the Keep," you smile slightly. "And unfortunately, Lord Tywin was correct about one thing. I do enjoy the library." After a moment, and a deep shuddering breath as his fingers continue to tease your skin, you sigh. "Do you think he did it?" From what you saw, the king's uncle looked as shocked as anyone else present. And you had not taken the man for any kind of actor or even a very good liar.

"I do not." Oberyn has his suspicions but he won't share them with you. Not to keep you in the dark, but to keep you safe. "Whoever killed the king had much more to gain than just a petty grievance. And Lord Tyrion had nothing to gain by killing his nephew."

"I suppose we will find out in two weeks." It is longer than either of you thought to stay in King's Landing, and not for a good reason, but you will try to make the most of it.

"It will not be a fair trial." Of that, he has no doubt. "At least you will be able to visit with the queen while you are there."

"She was very kind to me when we arrived." Queen Margaery, for better or for worse, is one of the only friendly faces that you know at the keep. "In fact, she encouraged me by only speaking good things of you. So I likely ought to tell her how right she was."

He hums thoughtfully, pausing his touch as he wonders why the Tyrell girl would speak so highly of him. Unless… "You must talk to her again." He encourages with a nod. "Offer her comfort and support."

"Of course I will." You would not dream of doing otherwise, after having been the person to stand in horror with her on the dais while King Joffrey lay dying. "I would not think to do anything else."

"She wants something from you." He reaches up to cup your chin and tilt your head up. "If there is a time to mention visiting Dorne, offer it to her and see how she reacts."

"I will." It is not a desirable feeling, to understand that the younger woman's friendliness might not have been true kindness or affection for you at all, but that is how the world works. Instead of falling to pieces over the unfairness of a possible lie, you nod. "And I will tell you when we speak of it."

He sees the doubt and the way your eyes dim slightly, hating that you have come to realize that your position makes you a most valuable friend to make. "She is scared, princess." He reminds her softly. "The Lannisters all but hold her hostage. She will have to marry Tommen."

"But..." Your mind whirls back into motion, realizing how little you actually have to regret. "He is...nine years old."

"And she will be expected to bed him." His lip curls in disgust or perhaps pity for the girl. While he was in a woman's bed when he was merely fourteen, he had not had the timidity of the future king.

"I cannot stomach that thought." Especially with your best guess that Queen Margaery is perhaps twice the young boy's age. You shake your head, listening for the last few moments of pleasurable sounds from the next room and lying back in the bed when your lovers fall silent again on the other side of the door.

"At least two of us found pleasure this morning." Obeyrn huffs, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. "We will find ours later. Unless you find it with Ellaria while your Ser Raeden and I are gone."

"Even if I find it with Ellaria," which you are not certain you will do, although the idea is no longer far-fetched. "It will not stop me from wanting to find it with you again tonight."

"Whatever you wish." He promises. "We must make sure the halls of the keep are filled with pleasure."

"And there is a chance we may be the only ones finding it." You huff slightly, but lift yourself from the bed to slip out of his robe completely. You can wear your thin shift to walk into a room whose occupants have already seen you bare. "We should tell them what has passed."

"We will." It would be an insult to both if he were to keep them in the dark about the day's surprising outcome. It would be futile anyway, because Ellaria would sense something is amiss and he is sure that Raeden is the same way.

A small knock at the door is enough, and you crack it open a respectfully small amount. Not to interrupt them the way you had been this morning. "Are you...is it...alright if we come in?"

Surprisingly, there is a shuffling of sheets and fabric in the dark. The sound of clothes being thrown on hastily takes a moment to recognize but Oberyn tilts his head curiously at the cause of such a thing.

Ellaria appears at the door a moment later with a smile and opens it wide. "Our lovers have emerged from consummating their marriage," she hums with a warm smile. "Have you enjoyed your morning as well?"

His brow ticks up, but he says nothing about the pause before. “It would have been wonderful if Tywin Lannister had not shown up and rudely interrupted my cock being ridden.”

The name makes Ellaria frown immediately and she moves aside to let you both in. "What happened, lover?" She asks with concern. Her hand finds Oberyn's easily and she leads him to the bed, assuming you will all sit together while he relates the tale. "What did he want?"

“I have been given a seat on the small council.” Oberyn informs her. “And I will sit on Tyrion Lannister’s trial.” He turns his dark eyes towards his lovers and sighs. “We will be moving into the Keep today.”

"Oberyn." Ellaria's frown deepens measurably. She knows how very little he must wish for such a thing, considering his sister's fate. "Are we to...to stay here?"

He understands what she really means and it makes him frown even more than he already is. "No." He tells her smugly. "I demanded additional rooms for my lover and servants." He juts his chin towards the door. "Cal and Leyth." He tells her. "They come with us. Pay Littlefinger whatever price he names."

"We will arrange it." You may not be as used to handling Oberyn's affairs as Ellaria is, but you must learn eventually. And someone who might try to brush off a prince's lover will do no such thing when dealing with a princess.

Ellaria's brow raises as she turns to look at you for a beat before turning back to Oberyn. "Of course lover, everything will be as you wish." She promises with a smile, leaning over and kissing him passionately, knowing he is unsettled in this turn of events.

Your robe is hanging from the back of a chair at the table along one side of the room, and you slip into it before making your way over to Raeden. "You enjoyed your night?" The question might be unnecessary, but wanting him to be happy and comfortable is your default feeling in regards to your soulmate.

“Very good.” Raeden admits, as he sweeps you into his arms to kiss you rather desperately. Sliding his tongue into your mouth immediately as if to pay penance to you for kissing another.

The comfort of having him near is immediate, letting you melt into his side and sigh open for him like a blooming flower. His arms around you are a protective wall of calm and safety, and a soft whine from the back of your throat is a reminder that you were very much interrupted this morning and you are still feeling cheated from your own pleasure.

“When your new lover is finished kissing his soulmate, Ser Raeden and I will go talk to the Lords of Dorne.” Oberyn tells Ellaria. “You and my wife stay in the brothel.” He cups her chin. “Please.”

"He will never be finished," Ellaria huffs an amused laugh, having found that it is something that Raeden thoroughly enjoys. Still, she sets her chin on Oberyn's shoulder and kisses his cheek softly. "You need only say the word and I will undertake anything for you, my love. You know this."

“I know.” He knows that Ellaria’s loyalty to him is unshakeable and yet he still worries about the murky waters he must tread to find satisfaction for Elia’s murder. “Tywin was not pleased to learn that my paramour was coming with me. He will be less pleased to learn the Princess has a paramour of her own.”

"He can shove his shriveled cock in a bucket of leeches," Ellaria huffs again but this time she rolls her eyes. "I doubt he feels pleasure unless he is on the battlefield. Frigid man." She shakes her head and does not move from his side. "Do what you must, my love."

He smirks, nodding as he reaches for her hand. You and Raeden are still wrapped up in each other and he laces his fingers with hers. "How was your night, my sun? Did your Raeden pleasure you like you had hoped?"

"He is sweet, and gentle." Ellaria smiles as though that is an indulgence. "Not timid, but eager to please. It will take some coaxing to find the animal in him, but I do not mind that."

"Yes, she said sometimes she wishes that he makes her ache." Oberyn turns and drops a kiss on her bare shoulder. "Was it his guilt that made you dress before opening the door?"

She nods - the explanation is a simple one and she gestures to the two of you on the edge of the bed together. "Hers was less so?" Ellaria guesses with a sly smile. "We heard you both."

"You know that I am irresistible." He jokes, winking at his lover. "Her cunt is perfect." He hums. "You will enjoy it." Now that the barrier of propriety has been broken, he has no doubt Ellaria will spend most of the day in bed with his wife. His neglected cock twitches at the idea.

"I will take care of her for you," Ellaria promises.

"Please do," Raeden looks up and his eyes on Ellaria are soft.

Oberyn leans in to kiss Ellaria again. "We must dress and then you will be meeting the other lords from Dorne, Ser Stone." He informs Raeden. "Tell them of what has transpired and what is to come."

"Aye." With one more kiss, Raeden stands and starts to dress, donning the Dornish robes that he now takes great pride in wearing. Oberyn pats his lover's hand before he stands to get ready so they can depart.

In mere moments they have gone, and you look to Ellaria with an unintentionally nervous expression. “Would you share a bath with me?” It is the most normal thing you can think to offer, and would keep the two of you together. Something that you know the prince is concerned with.

Her eyes flash with something indistinguishable but her lips curve into a sultry smile and she sways her hips as she moves towards you. "Of course, princess." She purrs, reaching out and stroking your cheek lovingly as she stares into your eyes. "I will have the servants prepare the bath and I will bathe you myself." She insists. "I am well familiar with the ache and mess that comes with being in the prince's bed."

“Ellaria…” as tempting as that sounds, and it does, you hesitate. “You…are not my maid. I asked because I wish to spend time with you.”

"And I offer because I wish." She promises with a small pat to your cheek. "You could not get me to act as your servant if you wanted." She is not boasting that fact, but it is true. Oberyn would never allow it.

“It is the last thing that I want.” You promise her quickly. “I admire you, Ellaria Sand. For your strength, and your confidence. I—I honestly hope to learn from you…if that is something you would allow.”

Her brows arch in surprise for a moment and the confidence falls away. The woman underneath shines through and her eyes soften as if you were her lover. She cups your cheeks and smiles at you. "Of course, princess." She nods, her thumbs stroking your cheek. "I will teach you whatever you wish to learn."

"You love him very much." That is beyond questioning, and you swallow the accompanying thought in your head as Ellaria takes your hand to guide you out of the shared chambers and down to the bathing room. "And you have lived in Dorne all your life. There is much more you can tell me about our home than the stories my grandmother could remember from her childhood."

Leyth is in the hallway, bringing a pitcher of wine to the room and Ellaria stops her, ordering a bath for you and her. She knows that the water will be ready before the two of you are even down the end of the hall. "I will tell you how the house works. It is very interesting." She chuckles as she watches the servant rush away.

"Please." After this morning's revelation, you desperately want to understand how things are run at the palace. "He told me that things are done differently than the north and now I have no bearing of what I am supposed to do, and–" You look to Ellaria so gratefully. "I do not want to disappoint or embarrass him."

"You will not do either of those things." She promises you with a small smile. "Doran resides at the Water Gardens since Sunspear is difficult to navigate with his chair. Often it is Oberyn who sits at Sunspear in his brother's stead."

"So that is where we reside?" It had never occurred to you that Ellaria and her children would live apart from Oberyn, especially since he has often referenced having his children nearby.

"Yes." She nods. "We often visit the Water Gardens so we have rooms there as well." She smiles. "It is lovely. Perfect for sparring the courtyard or frolicing in the cool waters."

"But most of the time we are in the capital." You nod, beginning to form a better picture of their life. "Prince Doran and his wife rule from the Water Gardens, then? It is fortunate that there is a place for them to reside that is better for his health. And...both staff have adjusted to how she prefers things to be run?" You must sound like an insecure child asking, but you want to do the very best job that you can.

“Mellario is a strong willed woman.” Ellaria nods. “But she is also unique in her ways of ruling. She believes the servants are happier if they feel they have purpose. A say in the running of the household. They created their own cleaning schedules and the palaces are sparkling. The menu is varied and often better than the best taverns.”

"Then that is how it will stay." It would hardly improve conditions or opinions of anyone involved for you to change things that not only work but also make people happy. "My role is then...to sponsor social engagements and to bear children?" Which does not sound like an unfortunate life at all, but you want to be sure you have not missed anything.

“You will be an advisor to your husband. A hand of the throne of Dorne when needed.” Ellaria opens one of the bottles of oil and sniffs, wrinkling her nose and putting the stopper back in it and choosing another. “Lords will come to you to solve their problems when Oberyn and Doran are unavailable. Women in Dorne are not chattel, we are also warriors.”

"A fact I doubt my mother had any idea of." And thank the gods for that, otherwise she never would have forced your father to agree to the arrangement. As horrible as it sounded to you weeks ago, that is how wonderful you find it now. "Is this why you did not want the title for yourself?" You ask her carefully, not at all trying to offend her. "To be free to live as you choose instead of ruling?"

"I am a bastard." She shrugs one elegant shoulder as she unstops another bottle and sniffs, humming in approval. "There would always be someone who would question my claim as Oberyn's soulmate or insult him." She turns back to you and lifts a brow. "I did not wish to have my lover kill that many men on my behalf." She smirks. "And I have no use for formalities."

“Something I excel at, for better or for worse.” You nod in understanding and let her lead you to the bath. “My mother made sure of it, of course.”

She pours the oil into the bath, the smell rising with the steam as it swirls through the hot water. "We all have our purposes." She hums as she pulls the ties to your robe. "You will strengthen the title of my lover and your husband."

"I wish I had your certainty." It is one of the things you envy most, if you are honest, but you offer Ellaria a smile and pull your own shift over your head. She has already seen you naked, there is no reason to be shy.

"You are lovely." Ellaria hums, her eyes sliding over your body with lust and approval at your boldness. She smiles and gestures for you to get into the water. "I will get our soaps and cloths."

“My reasons for being shy in front of you are gone.” The rising water is hot and you slip into it gladly. “I may not have your confidence with new lovers, but I certainly do not wish us to be strangers.”

"Tell me about your first lover." Ellaria gathers the necessary supplies to bathe and she quickly slips into the water after discarding her own gown to join you.

“She was my best friend, besides my brothers. Her father was the maester who kept my father’s library and she was the only other girl I knew who enjoyed reading the way I did.” When Ellaria begins to wash you, you relax subtly. She offered, you remind yourself. “That is how it began. Reading together.”

"Romantic." Ellaria hums. "Oberyn reads to me sometimes, it puts me right to sleep." She knows how to read, she's actually very good at it, but she does not have a taste for reading like her lover does. That man's mind is far sharper than hers and she knows it.

“We would read to each other under the trees in the garden. Fairy stories and histories. Tales of the old world and fictions that our fathers disregarded as drivel for little girls but were full of the best questions about life.” It is good to know that Oberyn has the same taste for reading that you do. It can be something you do together.

"You fell in love imagining together." Ellaria smiles as she imagines two girls reading and yearning for one another. Perhaps stealing a kiss in secret and giggling about in the dark while touching her lips. It is very innocent and her heart aches that you had to hide such a beautiful thing.

"We did." That might be the most accurate way of describing your years as a girl with Brynna, and you never would have thought to put it that way. "As we grew older, she was given a place in the kitchens and my mother became stricter about allowing us to spend time together. It was..." You trail off, looking down at your own hands before managing to look back at Ellaria in front of you. "It was the night I returned from my only other trip to King's Landing that she kissed me for the first time."

She drags the soapy cloth over your shoulders and down your chest. She's not bathing you to seduce you, so she doesn't grope as she cleans. "And how did you feel when she kissed you?" Had you ever been kissed by a boy before?"

"No one ever." You shake your head, deciding to watch her hand as it moves. Revealing this part of you is more exposing than even being naked. "We came home late and my parents sent me to bed right away. But Brynna brought a tray to my room and told me how much she'd missed me and..." It makes you feel a little silly to admit, but you do: "I was only fifteen. And when she kissed me I was so aroused that I moaned and I had no idea why."

Ellaria nods, waiting for you to continue your story. It will do you good to tell your story and have it accepted. She knows you will keep talking, like bleeding a wound of infection.

"For years it was no more than kisses." Despite feeling like you are rambling, you cannot seem to stop. The relief of being heard is far more powerful than you had expected. "Stolen in the garden or late at night in my room. The day that desire became too much for us to bear...I see now how we lied to ourselves. Only men could make love to women, according to my septa. So even though we felt enough guilt and shame to keep what we were doing a secret, we did not call it lovemaking."

"But it was addicting, wasn't it?" Ellaria asks gently. "It makes you crave those stolen moments." She could imagine that being the case, falling together as often as you could and stealing moments of sublime pleasure.

"For almost two years," you admit, finding Ellaria's eyes again. "And then one day I was out in the woods and nearly impaled by a boar. And Raeden saved me."

Her jaw tightens slightly and she relaxes into an indulgent smile. "You found your soulmate.” She nods. "And you felt as if you could not have both."

"It was more than that...we had an agreement." One that seems both childish and useless in retrospect. "I had promised her that when she met her soulmate that I would not come between them. She was free to marry for love and I was not, so who was I to be selfish with her?" You sigh, looking away again and feeling the old shame wash over you. "Instead, I met Raeden first, and she wished me love and luck with him. When she met her own soulmate a year or so later it seemed serendipitous."

"I am sorry." She really is. There has never been an issue of having to deny her feelings towards anyone, especially someone that she has loved. Guilt swirls in her stomach and she focuses on you. "Perhaps you can write to your first lover? Catch up on her life and fill her in on yours."

"I think she would be very surprised to hear all that has happened." Brynna's life is tranquil, as far as you know. Far better than yours was in many ways right up until a few days ago. "Her husband is a farmer, and the last I heard she has birthed two beautiful babies."

"Lovely." She hums. "And soon, perhaps, you will join her in the joys of motherhood." She knows how virile Oberyn is and you are still young enough to be bred easily. Unless you had decided to keep drinking your tea.

"It is in the hands of the gods." It surprises you how much that makes you smile, one hand gently touching your belly as if you must be terribly delicate with your own body when that is certainly not how you behaved last night.

"May the Seven shine on you." There is no jealousy if you wish to carry another of Oberyn's children. Her own womb has already been used many times and he would not love his children any less when he holds his legitimate heir in his arms. The little prince or princess would be raised with their Sand Snake siblings.

"I am...scared," you confess quietly, reaching out to stop Ellaria's arm and find her gaze. "I know that childbirth is not easy. I have seen that first hand. But I...I wish to do this."

"There is a tea." Ellaria smiles, reaching up and caressing your face. "Oberyn brewed it to help me through my labors. It helps with the pain and eases the birth." She's not quite sure what he had brewed but after the labor of the first, he had made it his mission to find something to ease her suffering. "You will have that tea, I promise you."

"Thank you." There is no shame in admitting to a mother of four babes that you are nervous of your first, but it is still a relief to be offered so much comfort. "My brother's wife nearly lost her life with her second child. I–" You tremble a little. "I cannot imagine leaving any of you behind. Let alone my child."

"It is an unfortunate part of giving life." Ellaria won't deny that. Too many women suffer and die while they are trying to birth their babies. "I am sorry you had to worry so about that but you will have my lover to dote on you." She smiles in fond remembrance. "The prince was very indulgent while I was carrying his daughters. I have no doubt he would lavish the same attention and affection on you."

"He loves you very passionately." There is a second part of that thought that you do not dare voice, but you smile at her and lean forward, pressing an affectionate kiss to her cheek. "And you are so very deserving of it. Thank you for soothing my fears, Ellaria. For...if it is not altogether too forward of me...for being my friend."

"I am hopefully to be a lot of things to you." She purrs, reaching out and touching your shoulder. "What we become will come with time, but for now, I am most definitely your friend."

"Oberyn had hoped we might indulge each other while he is with the lords," you admit, allowing yourself to enjoy the warmth of her touch. "But that is up to you."

"We should wait." Ellaria decides, frowning slightly and shakes her head. "There is much to be done to get ready to move to the Red Keep." She looks at you earnestly. "We will need to order plenty of Dornish wine to be found and provided to us, he will be uneasy in that keep."

"I would not want to be anywhere one of my brothers died." The understanding washes over you, extinguishing any arousal that might have been building, and you nod. "And we must see what it will take to convince Lord Baelish to give up Cal and Leyth."

"Yes." She arches a brow. "You will not oppose having them serve you in the Keep, will you?" She knows that you accept Oberyn having lovers, but it is a different thing to have whores serve you.

"I would only object to it if they did not wish to serve us." Maids, whores, servants – it does not matter to you as long as it is work being done of one's own free will. Forced labor and slavery are abominations you will not accept.

“We will have to pay for them.” That is an unfortunate truth. “But they will be free to leave our side once their debt to Littlefinger is paid.”

"That is a relief." There is much to do, and you soak your hair carefully, making sure that no knots have been left behind from the night before while Ellaria washes herself. The two of you are done in the bath before long and you both dry off to don your robes again and go back upstairs.

“I will find Baelish and make sure that he knows that Cal and Leyth are coming with us.” Ellaria hums as she sweeps into the room.

"I will make sure that my things and Raeden's are packed." It was not as if you had unpacked much, especially considering you had only been in the brothel with Oberyn and Ellaria for a few days.

“Good.” Ellaria looks at you seriously. “We are going to a place that will be very dangerous.” She cautions. “Do not speak around the servants unless they are ours.”

"I will remember." You promise her. The maids, as they say, know everything.

She smiles and nods at you before quickly turning back to her trunk to find a gown to change into. Not a normal one that she has no problem tossing to the ground in a moment but one that reminds Baelish that she is Oberyn’s lover and has been for years.

******

There is an unhappy, squat man in Littlefinger’s office when she arrives, and he does not look up from his accounts book. “If you want a whore, go to the front room and wait. If you want a job, go away. No room for novices here.”

Ellaria snorts and does neither of those things. She strides up to the desk and reaches over, closing the book on the man’s fingers. “You think the Prince of Dorne’s lover is a novice?” She demands haughtily.

He looks like the sort of man to whimper and whine and he is - attempting to snatch his hand away and failing. “What do you want?” He demands, trying to wiggle his way out of the book again. “Lord Baelish isn’t here.”

“There are two whores that I want to take with me.” She smirks, leaning over and staring at him with an amused gaze. “Prince Oberyn wants them to come when we leave your establishment.”

“We don’t sell our whores.” The man tells her, gaze obviously aimed down her blouse instead of at her face. “Might trade, though. He can take one if he leaves you behind.”

It’s not smart of the sniveling little weasel to have a dagger out on the table whilst insulting her. Her own temper isn’t quite as fierce as her lovers, but her aim is just as precise. Snatching up the dagger, she buries the tip of the blade into the man’s hand and through the leather cover of his book, pinning his hand to it.

“Seven HELLS!” The weasel bellows like he’s had the air punched out of his lungs, jumping up from his seat only to pull himself back down again immediately when he realizes his hand isn’t going anywhere. “You goatfucking cunt!”

Her eyes flash and her own dagger comes out, pressed to his Adam’s apple just enough to knick the skin. “I fuck a prince, not a goat, you limp dicked bastard.”

“Aye!” He would nod if it would not impale him on her blade, instead his eyes flit between the two weapons in panic. “Oo—of—of course!” He squeaks with his watery eyes landing on her face again. “Wh—whatever you say!”

“Now.” Satisfied that she had gotten her point across and manners would be observed, she pulls the dagger away and resheaths it inside a pocket of her dress. “There is the matter of payment for Cal and Leyth’s freedom from this establishment.” She hums conversationally, a small smile playing on her lips. “I think we can come to some agreement?”

Scrambling for anything to stem the flow of blood sends the man halfway across the room for a length of fabric that was surely hanging in one of the brothel rooms only yesterday. He wraps it around his hand furiously, crying out in pain and groaning in frustration. Littlefinger will have his head for losing Leyth. “Together they are expensive,” he warns, hoping to discourage the desert dwelling bitch.

“More expensive than the price you put on your cock?” She asks, arching a perfect brow and pursing her lips. “Perhaps you would rather I tell the prince that you are unwilling to deal with me?”

“No.” Being unwilling to deal with the second Prince of Dorne could see him dead as well as cockless, and he shudders. “Fifty gold for them both,” he bargains, knowing that Littlefinger paid far less. The least he can do is make his employer a tidy sum.

She knows that he is trying to strong arm her and she crosses her arms. “Your boss has fled the city, he is not coming back. Change is coming to King’s Landing. Thirty gold and be glad to have two less to feed.”

If he were not currently bleeding out through his hand he might fight harder. He might bargain and deal. He might even see his way to getting his own profit out of this deal. But it’s either his life or Littlefinger’s whores. “Fine.” He huffs, Nearly snarling at the pain in his wound. “Pay now and take them today. They are no longer my problem.”

“Done.” She muses, turning on a charming, if somewhat sharp, smile. From another pocket, she pulls a purse of coins and opens it. Dumping the amount, forty coins, onto the desk. “Our bill is settled and we will be leaving your fine establishment. I do hope you have a good day.” She purrs, holding out her hand. “Their keys.”

Frowning heavily, the man pulls a heavy ring from his pocket and fumbles with it for a moment before thrusting it at the woman with a huff. “They are twenty-two and fifteen,” he tells her, referring to the numbers etched in the keys. “Cannot work the fucking latch with one hand.”

Ellaria plucks the keys from his hand and quickly unlatches it to retrieve the keys that she is looking for. “Pleasure, I’m sure.” She snorts, tossing the rest of the keys down on the desk and turning around to sashay out of the room. “Do have someone look at that hand.” She calls over her shoulder.

******

Cal is in the halls when Ellaria emerges around a corner again, having been sent to Please other guests when he was not desired by the prince last night. “My lady,” he bows her head to her respectfully, having heard the screaming coming from the office just minutes ago. “I…trust everything is well?”

“Everything is marvelous.” Walking up to him, she curls her hand around his neck and pulls him in for a soft kiss. “If you have any belongings, or wish to say goodbye to anyone, do it now.” She tells him, handing him the key to his bracelet. Rather than garish chains, Littlefinger had decorative bracelets on the wrists of the people in his brothel.

“Are we going somewhere?” He asks, rather bewildered. Cal had already become very comfortable with the prince, it’s true, but Littlefinger would never send anyone away for more than an errand. It is not as though he was in the habit of lending out his whores.

“You are free from this place.” Ellaria explains. “You are free to come with the prince, princess and I, or you can leave at your discretion.” She pauses, placing her hand on the man’s arm. “Although the prince would love for you to stay with us. Come to Dorne.”

“Leyth?” She is his only hesitation, and he knows that Ellaria Sand understands. That she would not say such things and offer freedoms lightly. There is a catch. There always is. But a whore to a prince is still better than a whore to Petyr Baelish. All he cares about is that his love will not be left alone in this place.

“The other key is for Leyth.” Ellaria smiles, understanding the deep affection and love the two have for each other. She had not missed the subtle touches that are not shared with their patron for the night. She holds up the other key to offer it to him. “Do you wish to give it to her?”

“She is upstairs. With the princess.” He nods and accepts the two keys as the precious items they are. The only times he’s seen bracelets come off of Littlefinger’s whores they were usually headed for the gravedigger’s cart.

“Cal.” Ellaria stops him with another serious tone. “We are offering – not commanding.” She reminds him. “We will need you to act as servants at the Red Keep, but we do not own you. You own yourself.”

“Will the prince pay us?” He asks quietly. No one here ever saw a single coin of what they earned their employer and certainly were never asked for a single damn thing. It was always commanded. “Shelter us? See we are fed?”

“The prince has already demanded quarters for you in the palace and he is a fair man.” She nods. “You eat the same foods we do, and your coins earned are yours to keep. The Dornish crown pays their servants well.”

“Would…” he hesitates, but Cal has felt more comfortable and cared for as a person by the prince that paid for his company than by his own family. “Questions will keep for later,” he decides. “Let us tell Leyth the good news.”

“Delightful.” Ellaria beams, wrapping her hand around the man’s forearm as if he was a lord escorting her through a garden. She feels like he will come with them if Leyth agrees.

The quiet conversation coming from the prince’s quarters is muffled by the usual sounds from the other rooms, but it stops entirely when the door opens. You have been very careful with what you say and to whom today, meaning that you have ceased speaking altogether anytime a new person has come to the rooms. Seeing Ellaria makes you sigh with audible relief. “Have you been successful?” You ask, hoping that the appearance of Cal beside her means the answer is yes.

Her self satisfied smile is answer enough but she nods. “I have. We are ready to leave as soon as we are packed.”

“Nearly.” With Leyth’s help things have gone quickly. “Very nearly.”

“We will be sorry to see you go.” Leyth admits, looking to the elegant Ellaria fondly. She loves Cal very much, that is true, but she has developed a quick affection for the prince’s paramour in addition.

Ellaria looks to Cal and nods. “Why don’t you tell her?” She asks the former brothel worker. She feels like it would be much appreciated coming from the woman’s lover. Sliding away from his side, she walks over to you and takes your arm, turning to watch.

Cal nods, struggling to find words enough when something so momentous is within reach. Leyth was sold to Littlefinger in her twelfth year and has now lived as many years under his thumb as she had in freedom. “My love,” he murmurs, taking both of Leyth’s hands in his and pressing his forehead to hers gently. “The prince and Ellaria, they have…they have offered us a new path.” Placing her key in the palm of her hand, Cal closes his love’s fingers around the metal and nods when he sees the water rise behind her eyes. “She says we are welcome to follow them to Dorne and that there is room for us in the Red Keep as their servants if we wish it.”

“You would be most welcomed.” Ellaria assures the other woman. “But if you choose to go elsewhere, the prince will give you enough money to settle. As payment for the pleasure of your company over the past days.”

“Servants as in…a lady’s maid?” Leyth looks to you with hope in her eyes. The four of you have always been kind to her and to Cal, and she has begun to learn you over the last few days.

“If you wish it.” That would certainly be helpful to you, at the very least. Leyth is clever and very beautiful, and seems to be quite good at reading people’s needs. “But if you should ever find that it does not suit you, or you dislike it, I promise to release you from it with no malice. You should be free to choose your own path.” We all should, is the end of that thought, but you do not add it. It is best to remain unsaid in a room full of people who have not often had that option.

Cal holds her hand and squeezes it gently. “They offer us more than we can ever hope.” He murmurs softly. “It is a most gracious gift we have been handed.”

“Where you go, I go.” There is no question for her in that. Leyth squeezes Cal’s hands tightly and pushes up on her toes to kiss him softly. Normally it is an act that would see them scolded if not punished. Now, for the first time, they are unafraid.

Ellaria hums, pleased by their apparent agreement and she turns to smile at you. “We will need to dress them in something more appropriate, let us give them a moment and dig through our trunks?” She’s meaning hers and Oberyn’s, guiding you to the other room.

“What did Baelish say?” You move straight back to packing, bringing the things that were bought yesterday in the market over to your trunk to secure their safety. The necklace, books, and other trinkets are precious, of course. But the ring that Oberyn chose for you specifically sits on your finger right where it should. The most precious of them all.

“Baelish has fled the city.” Ellaria murmurs. “Apparently with Lady Sansa, Lord Tyrion’s wife.” She moves to her trunks and kneels down. Just like Raeden will wear Dornish colors, so will Cal and Leyth. “Amber for Leyth.” She murmurs to herself as she pulls out dresses.

“He will have gone home. The Fingers of the Vale hold little appeal for Petyr Baelish, but Lady Sansa is a niece of Lysa Arryn. I would wager my favorite boots that he has taken her there. To safety.” Carefully extracting a length of cloth to use as a wrap over your dress is the last order of business before locking your trunk. “Does Oberyn have more clothing to be bestowed? For Cal?”

“He does.” Ellaria motions towards his trunk. “Open it and find something for him. Will you?”

The freedom to simply explore your husband’s belongings is strange, but worth Ellaria giving you permission, you feel secure enough that he would not be upset. “He will be happy that they are coming with us.” For assistance as much as for pleasure, you are sure of that. “I only hope that things are not as dour at the keep as he predicts they may be.” A packet of clothing in the prince’s trunk looks to be similar - if a bit finer - to what the carriage driver was wearing the few times you have ridden at the prince’s side. “These will do well, I think?”

Ellaria glances over and nods. “Cal will look good in that.” She agrees with an approving smile. “Once we are back in Dorne, they will be free to wear what they wish. But while we are in King’s Landing, Oberyn would want them to wear symbols of his house.”

“He knows which rules to play by.” And which to disregard or flaunt, of course. But that is a part of his charm. “I will learn the rules that are different in Dorne. As quickly as I can.”

“Dorne will not be hard for you to master.” She laughs and shakes her head. “Despite the reputation they like to perpetuate here, we are civilized. And have greater respect for most under our care.”

“Dorne will expect their princess to have a spine.” The most you can do about that right now is shrug. “I seem only to find mine when my mother is being horrible or when someone I care about is endangered.”

“When you have been expected to be a pretty ornament, it is easy to be cowed.” Ellaria reminds you. “Yet when it counts, your spine is stronger than the Wall. You will do well when you realize your full potential.”

“I hope your faith in me is better founded than my own fear.” Faith which makes you bold enough to lean over and place a kiss on Ellaria’s cheek. “Thank you.”

She turns her head and presses her lips to yours firmly. Reaching up and holding your arms to hold the kiss for a long moment before she pulls away to stare into your eyes seriously. “The last thing I ever wish for you is any kind of hurt.”

“I feel the same.” You can promise her that, although you are reasonably certain that of the two of you, you are the only one left dizzy after a shared kiss. “You are a gift I did not realize that I needed.”

A cloud of doubt passes through her eyes but it’s blinked away and she smirks at you. “Of course I am.” She teases with a wink. “Let us see how the lovers are dealing with their change of fortune.”

“We have found you some new things.” You report with a smile when the door to the other room opens. “Symbols of a new life.” There are tears in Leyth’s eyes and she looks towards you and Ellaria with fear and joy in her expression. “There is no reason to cry.” Immediately stepping forward, both of your arms come around Leyth and you hug the younger woman to you in earnest. “I was scared at first, too. But you know the prince will treat you well. And I promise that I will, too.”

“There–” Leyth shakes her head and bites her lip. “There is something that I must confess before I accept your offer.”

“Tell me,” you insist, your hands moving to her arms to clasp her close. “Whatever it is, it cannot be as bad as so many tears.”

“I….cannot have children.” She admits with a sob and shake of her head. “If– the prince wanted to– I could not give him a child. Or anyone a child. Littlefinger made sure of it.”

“He made sure of it?” Your forehead pinches and your eyes narrow a little, trying to understand her meaning. “The prince will not be upset with you for not being able to bear his child. There are many women without that ability through the decree of the gods. But he may be very angry with Lord Baelish if he has hurt you in some way.”

“I was taken to a man when I was first bleeding.” She explains, looking between you and Ellaria. “He– I woke up in pain and was told that I would not bleed again. And I have not since then. Littlefinger appreciated that I would not have to rest the week of my bleeding like others.

“You have not bled since the first time?” That seems rather impossible to you. Or at least you have never heard of it.

“He took her womb.” Ellaria rasps through gritted teeth. Fury is etched into her face as deeply as your own confusion is. “To avoid losing profit.”

Leyth nods, relieved that Ellaria understands what she is saying but she shrinks back from the fury on the other woman’s face. She hates thinking that the beautiful woman would not find her worthy now of saving. “Yes. I– I am sorry. Littlefinger forbade me from speaking of it.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” As horrified – and yes, confused – as Ellaria is angry, you reach for Leyth again instantly. “A terrible thing was done to you by a man who, I am sure, has done the same to countless others. It is despicable but it is certainly nothing for you to be sorry on.” Ellaria advances too, sure steps that have her sweeping the young woman up in her arm as surely as she is putting her other hand on your back. “There is nothing to fear from Oberyn,” she promises, all but coping softly the way a mother might to a frightened child. “There will be children enough in Dorne for you to be surrounded by if you wish it, and if you do not then send them off to their mothers or fathers or their ten thousand Sand siblings. You need not fear us, lover.” The last she promises with a sealed kiss, as tender as could possibly be from a woman who just moments ago looked ready to walk through each of the seven hells.

Leyth’s lips trembles against Ellaria’s, she had been so sure that the prince and his paramour might want to sire a child off of her, the idea had been proposed by several who had come to the brothel. She had no wish to disappoint the one pair she would have wished to do that for. Cal knew, but their love would have never been able to result in a child. Not here. She pulls back and looks towards both you and Ellaria. “I would be honored to be your lady’s maid.” She tells you both quietly. “I can serve you equally.”

“I am not a lady.” Ellaria reminds her, brushing her fingers over Leyth’s cheek.

“You are far more of one than you think.” Though you will never question her role in Oberyn’s life or her sense of self, you can certainly recognize that. “We will be honored to have your assistance, Leyth. Though the things we require your assistance for may differ slightly. And if you ever decide that service is not the life you wish to lead, you have only to tell us.”

Looking over at Cal, she nods. “You have treated us better in the few days we have been together than probably any other time in our lives.” She gushes, reaching up and covering Ellaria’s hand with her own. “The Seven surely sent you.”

“The Red Keep will not be an easy place.” Ellaria warns them. “Oberyn will be strict, but he trusts you both.”

“Of course he must be strict.” She knows that, especially because of the tensions have been rising around the city with the king’s murder. “It cannot be any worse than the brothel with the worst customers.”

“Far less, I should think.” Whatever small comfort you can manage to offer, you’re certainly going to. “Whatever packing you have to do or goodbyes you want to say, go and do them. We cannot be sure when the prince will return and our move to the Red Keep will be swift.”

“Yes my lady.” Leyth beams and bows respectfully before turning and grabbing Cal’s hand to disappear.

“That is one less issue,” you sigh softly. Leyth and Cal seem positively eager for their change in fortunes now that Leyth’s fears have been allayed. “What else is there for us to do here? Only finish packing?” Ellaria knows more of the prince’s belongings than you do and will know of anything is out of place.

“Finish packing and pick out outfits for us to arrive to the Keep.” Ellaria tells you. “He will want to make a statement.”

A statement from Prince Oberyn could be any number of things, but you nod. He had mentioned that there were gowns in his trunk that were meant to be gifts for you. It seems like now would be the time to look for them.

“They will not be as scandalous as you could wear.” She assures you. “However, they are bold dresses.”

“I think anything bold would be scandalous from me,” you half joke, pulling out a gown of fine silk that shines with the same orange as fire. The skirts flutter like leaves on the breeze and the sleeves are no more than glistening gold chains that cling to a cuff to hold their shape. It is nothing like the structured gowns you have worn in the past and would show your body’s natural figure to advantage even while being modestly covered. “Do you have a necklace like the one the prince gave me?” You ask Ellaria, holding the dress up to the mirror in the wall. “The more delicate version of what he wears around his neck?”

“I do.” Ellaria nods. She rarely wears it, as it is meant for the official Martell royals, but he had insisted that she have one after the birth of Elia. “What is your clever mind thinking?”

“That we ought to appear as united as possible.” It is only too bad that there is not also one for Raeden, but perhaps in time. “The three of us would look quite the formidable party if we arrived wearing them together.”

“Of course we will.” She hums happily. “And Raeden will look resplendent in his Dornish colors.”

"He will. That is – he already does." You fluster slightly, as if you feel guilty for being caught not mentioning him quite enough. "I wish we had time to commission a banner for him. For House Stone. But that cannot be done in just one day."

“No, he will need to make sure his banner is something impressive.” Ellaria agrees. “One that he can build a legacy with.”

“I know it is not the name he thought he would make for himself.” Smoothing the dress in your arms, you hesitate for a moment but turn to drape the silk over the nearby bed. “But what he has wanted, more than anything, is to make his family proud. Whether that family will be his parents or this new House, I cannot say. It is only that…I wish for him to have the entire world of happiness. The Seven have surely heard his prayers, and I hope they have heard mine as well.”

“You do understand that he might have to marry?” She broaches the subject carefully. “As a new, emerging house, he would need to have legitimate children.”

“I…am not anxious to think about it. Which is unfair, as he was made to stand by and witness my own marriage.” Being able to admit that to Ellaria is both surprising but also a circumstance that makes you sick to your stomach. “It is surely not a thought for this immediate moment, is it?”

“Of course not.” She smiles and nods, reaching out to pat your hand. “We must get through our challenge of staying in the Red Keep first.”

“Although I am certain the thought will fester now that it has a voice.” You shake your head and step back toward the bed, willing yourself to focus on the task at hand.

“I– apologize.” She murmurs softly. “I should not have spoken on it.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” She, of all people, understands your own distress at knowing your soulmate’s marriage is now inevitable. “After all…whoever the woman will be…is she not to me, exactly who I am to you?”

“Perhaps.” She nods slightly, not giving voice to the thought that had already passed. She could not break your heart that way and still has not come to terms with it herself.

“I should be lucky if I like her even half as much as you seem to like me.” That is, you should think, too much to even dream of. Whoever Raeden ultimately gives his name to — that wonderfully lucky woman — you can see yourself disliking her in principle. Like some pride-driven mad woman who masks her grief with seeming greed.

“I should hope you would.” Ellaria admits quietly and then changes the subject. “Let us get ready for our latest challenge and face it, putting away these issues.”

“Practical and wise.” The smile you offer her this time is genuine. Unstrained and earnest. “Would you like me to help you change?”

“No.” Ellaria quickly shakes her head and her smile turns sultry. “If you help me change, then we will will get too distracted to manage anything else. Since I put a dagger in the hand of Littlefinger’s man, I feel like we should abandon this place with as much haste as we can muster.”

“You—?” That is unexpected news indeed, and you very nearly snap forward to attention. “Yes, I think you are very right. We should be ready to go just as soon as Raeden and Oberyn return.”

Relieved that you believe the potential reason for her denial, she motions towards your room. “Go change and finish packing. I will join you soon.”

**

The air seems thicker around the Red Keep than it did in Flea Bottom despite there being fewer people and less activity. The world stands still here, in a way, though most lives continue as usual even in the wake of the king’s passing. The cloud of grief around the keep seems almost tangible, though. As if it were its own living and breathing entity. When the carriage stops at the steps of the fortress that your party will now call home, the collective inhale you take with Oberyn and Ellaria feels like sailors waiting for their ship to capsize. None of you wants to be here and it is each for your own reasons. At least - mercifully - the hand that helps you out of the carriage is Raeden’s this time. He had insisted on riding ahead of the carriage to keep an eye out for anything unusual. Now he squeezes your hand as you step down onto firm ground and offers you a subtle nod that is a promise: Nothing is going to harm you. Not while he is around.

Raeden nods respectfully, his dark eyes on you for a long moment before he finally withdraws his hand to help Ellaria from the carriage. Oberyn will come out last and the carriage behind you with the luggage, Cal and Leyth is already being unloaded. “My ladies.” Raeden bows as he backs up and then stands tall to place his hand on his sword hilt.

There has not been a time since your very first visit to King's Landing that you have actually enjoyed spending time in the Red Keep, and now you feel your own dread run parallel to the prince's. There are people here you would both prefer to avoid and places you would rather not revisit. While Cal and Leyth spirit your trunks away with footman and the prince's driver takes the carriage away to be stored elsewhere on the grounds, you find yourself grateful that Raeden is at your left while Oberyn is on your right. Ellaria on the prince's other arm makes the four of you a veritable wall of formidability. Or it would, if not for the powder-white specter of Queen Margaery waiting to receive you just inside the walls of the keep.

“Prince and Princess Martell.” She smiles graciously, although she is still adorned in head to toe black and then clasps her hands together as her eyes flutter towards Ellaria. “And esteemed guest.” She doesn’t know Ellaria’s name officially, but she nods respectfully. “Welcome to the Red Keep.”

The situation is...precious. To term it gently. And though Margaery was married to the king and she is being hailed as queen by many, it was abundantly clear to all present that the new couple did not have the opportunity to consummate their vows -- which technically renders the marriage void now that King Joffrey has died. Still, you bow your head in respect. "Ellaria Sand, your Majesty." It is a choice, to acknowledge her as queen, and you make it because you know it will annoy Cersei Lannister which will in turn amuse Oberyn. "And Ser Raeden Stone." Your left hand waves to the man to your other side. "Of House Stone."

“House Stone.” Her brow arches in surprise and her eyes fall down to the newly carved signet ring. Her eyes flicker over to Oberyn and understanding flashes in their depths. “Well Ser Stone, I have a feeling you will be very welcomed at court.” She purrs with a small smile. “It has been a long time since there has been new blood.”

As proud as he is - as the title and the reality of it makes him - Raeden draws up just a mite taller despite knowing how many ill intentions truly lurk within the halls of society. "Thank you, your Majesty," he intones with an appropriately deep bow. If only his father could see him now. Speaking to the queen as a peer. Even with Oberyn between you, you can feel the sheer effort it takes Ellaria not to look over at you. Considering the conversation you so determinedly agreed not to have earlier today, your stomach nearly drops with dread. A fact which you hope does not cause the poised and placid expression on your face to waver. "You are very kind to welcome us, your Majesty. I am sure the day has been most trying for you."

“It is not how I expected to spend my first days as a Baratheon.” She admits before she turns to Prince Oberyn. “The rooms you have requested have been prepared and I will inform the servants that Ser Raeden is amongst you. Oberyn shakes his head, unwilling to let go of either of you. “It will not be necessary.” He tells her. “We have decided not to impress your staff with more work and brought our own servants. Ser Raeden is my hand to see about making sure all I wish to accomplish in King’s Landing is done.” He smirks. “It will be good lessons for setting up his own noble household.”

Never mind that Raeden has always lived more amongst servants than he has any experience in ordering them about, he does not fidget or flinch at your side when royalty speaks directly about him. It will be plenty to wrap his head around later on, out of sight. "Perhaps your Grace would enjoy a walk through the gardens later?" Remembering what Oberyn had told you about fostering a friendship with the queen, you are not about to disappoint him now, and you step forward to offer her your hands. "This time must be so trying for you and you have been so kind to me. Allow me to return the favor."

“It seems as though you have robbed the Vale of the kindest woman amongst them.” Margaery looks as though she’s been saved from a hanging noose and reaches out to clasp your free hand. “Perhaps your– Ellaria, would also like to join us?” While she is not one that normally visits with mistresses, this will upset Cersei and she knows that the woman is very close to the prince. To bestow her kindness would only be looked upon favorably and she needs allies.

Unsure what Ellaria might answer to that, you know better than to accept or deny the invitation on her behalf. "That decision would be entirely up to Ellaria, but I think it might be a marvelous way to lift your spirits."

A silent conversation passes between the prince and his paramour before she turns to the queen. “I cannot comprehend turning down an offer from the queen.” Ellaria proses elegantly. “The Princess and I will rally your spirits in such a desperately sad time.”

"We will certainly do everything we can." You squeeze the queen's hands gently before letting go of them. "Thank you for the kind respect of being here to greet our party, but we will not take more of your valuable time this afternoon." Being seen, being received, and then making yourselves scarce will make you worth talking about. It is a tactic taught to you by your oldest brother. "We will call on you tomorrow morning for our garden walk, if that is convenient for you."

“Perfect.” She nods and smiles before she turns away and tries to walk away with her head held high, but there is a nervous tension that was not there before.

You turn back to your group with an expression of bewilderment and reach to grasp Ellaria's hand as if in apology. It is not as though you could tell the queen 'no'. "I think tomorrow morning will be very eventful for us."

“She is scared.” Ellaria watches the path the queen had skittered away on and turns to you and Oberyn. “She is looking for protection if needed.”

"We will see what we can divine tomorrow?" Rather than the statements of surety you had shared with the queen, with your husband you are more inclined to ask questions. To make sure you are doing things that fall in line with whatever his plans might be.

Oberyn nods and he slides his hand up to both of your cheeks. “Get into her confidence. We will need to know what is happening that isn’t being brought before the small council.”

"I will." You would do practically anything he asked of you but simply had not realized it yet. What you do consciously is nod into his hands as though he has given you the most precious instruction in the world.

"Good girl." It is not meant to be demeaning, just praise. Oberyn's eyes soften towards you and his fingers curl slightly, admiring your willingness to enter the games of intrigue and subterfuge that most nobility insisted on playing. He played it as well, but only when it suited him. Leaning in, his kiss is not demanding, but it is a statement to any who pass through the bailey of the keep.

You let it linger longer than you should, you know that. But the infatuation you have with your husband only seems to grow and he is the first person you have ever been allowed to show affection for in public. In fact, he encourages it. Something which you now take full advantage of and let this kiss last as long as it naturally wishes to before pulling away.

“Go settle into our rooms.” He urges you softly, turning to Ellaria. “I will have a meeting with the small council and don’t know when I will be back.”

Ellaria’s own kiss for Oberyn is deeply passionate, and she nods when she pulls away. “I will be waiting for you, lover.” The small smile on her lips twists in your direction. “But I cannot promise that your bride will not have ensconced herself in the library already.”

“Then we will have to drag her away come time to dine together.” Oberyn chuckles. “I imagine there will be several books laying around.”

Your cheeks burn with the teasing but you grin, and even Raeden chuckles softly. “It would not be the first time she has missed a meal for the desire to continue reading.”

“I wonder if she will be so inclined to read her book if her cunt is being licked.” Oberyn muses.

“Gods, Oberyn!” Despite the curse, and the obvious embarrassment, the smile on your lips is pleased and affectionate. It is as if the days of doubting you could care for him have evaporated into air.

He chuckles and steps back, looking towards Raeden. “We will be back soon.” He promises, “but you will be in the small council meeting with me. As my hand.”

“I have never heard of a prince having his own hand.” Raeden’s eyebrow raises, making a smirk. “We will surely be the most talked of arrivals. Although I gather that was your plan all along.”

“Always make an impression.” Oberyn advises seriously, though his own smirk plays on his lips. “It will keep them guessing.”

“As you say, my lord.” Both men look as if they might end up giggling at any moment when Raeden nods and steps back for the prince to lead the way.

“It is good to see that Raeden has become more comfortable around Oberyn.” Ellaria observes, dropping the ‘your’ from her normal description of the man.

“I think perhaps we are all a little more relaxed than we might have been at first.” Certainly you are, though your gratitude for Ellaria and admiration for her are entirely mixed up together.

“It is a new situation for all of us, some discomfort was to be expected at the beginning.” She links her arm through yours and leans into you. “I know my lover did not disappoint you.”

“I—” Embarrassment burns Your face as you begin to walk together, and you have to scold yourself not to look down at your feet. The prince wants you to make an impression but surely not one of an embarrassed schoolgirl. “I should not be surprised that you heard. I imagine those down the hall did as well…”

“He is good at dealing either pleasure or pain.” She hums in amusement. “You should have seen him in the fighting pits. Bloody and sweaty coming out victorious and then ready to fuck all night.”

“Somehow I have no trouble imagining that.” And yet the idea of the man you have married being in the fighting pits at all now terrifies you so you change the subject immediately - landing on a topic that makes you only mildly less sick. “Raeden prefers lovemaking.”

“He is a sweet lover.” Her eyes cut over to you and she flusters slightly. “I hope that our own interlude did not cause any offense?”

“That would be horrifyingly hypocritical of me.” There will never be precisely a good time to breach the subject, but you clear your throat softly and lower your voice. “It had been discussed— that is, between the prince and myself — that..” Desperate to be discreet, you look around you and lower your voice again to barely murmur to Ellaria. “That I will no longer take my tea in the mornings…”

Eyes widening slightly, Ellaria lights up. “A new babe.” She breathes out, almost dreamily. “The entirety of Dorne would be celebrating their birth. A new prince or princess.”

“Then I hope they are swift in their arrival and possessing wonderful health.” Having the first person you tell be the woman who has already borne four of his children makes you nervous in a way you had not expected. As though there may be some part of the creation of the babe that you do not yet know of. “I am anxious for it, but also excited. At the moment I am not sure which is more dominant.”

“It will be strange and wonderful.” She promises, smiling softly. “Oberyn was a most attentive partner while I was carrying all four of my own Sand Snakes. I have no doubt he will be equally enamored with your changing body.”

"It...does mean that I ought to lie with him often..." Something which does exactly present you with any kind of hardship but it does affect the dynamic of your small group.

“Of course.” She knows that. “But it also means that Raeden shouldn’t spill inside you.” She cautions.

“I know.” Biting your lip as you turn another corner and begin to ascend a flight of stairs with Ellaria, you chance to look over at her and keep your voice low. “There are…other ways to enjoy ourselves. Some of which he is better acquainted with than I.”

Your name, your real name comes off her lips and she pauses as if she is about to tell you something before she shakes her head and chuckles. “All will be well.” She assures you.

“Did something happen?” Ellaria has not called you by your name since the first night you met, and though that was only days ago it still brings you concern to hear it. “Have I said something wrong?”

“Nothing.” She squeezes your arm tighter and hustles you along. “I do not believe you could be more perfect if the Seven had created you for our lives.”

She pulls you along beside her with a smile on your lips and though you go willingly, there is an ache in you that you cannot name. Perhaps it is doubt, more than any other thing, but there is something tinging it that makes your smile falter. Nothing about you is perfect. Especially not for people as wonderful as Raeden, Oberyn, and Ellaria.

______

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No Time To Waste- Chapter 4: Dalliances

Summary: A new companion serves as a catalyst, and things boil over soon enough.

“Mornin’ Elphie.” Glinda yawned and stretched and ran a hand through her hair, left a tangled mess as a result of her restless sleep. “You look like you slept well,” Elphaba remarked. “I did. And I had the most captivating dream, too.” “Really? What was it about?” “Well…” Glinda smiled and silently recalled her dream as she continued to detangle her hair. She’d been having recurring dreams for weeks on end now, all of them centering around making pure, uninhibited love to her precious Elphaba. Sometimes they’d be softer, blissful thoughts of sweet kisses and tender evenings, other times they’d be crude and carnal visions of sharp teeth and burning desire. Sometimes, as with the previous night, both moods would meld into one grand fantasy, leaving her in a cold sweat upon waking.  Oh, but she could never risk telling Elphaba about these spectacular dreams, so she opted to use the same adage Elphaba had shared with her in the dead of night. “Elphie, dear, you said it yourself last night, remember? One must not share their dreams, or else they won’t come true!”

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