#IT HAS NO BEARING ON THE PLOT WHATSOEVER

[soaringsearingphoenix]

i have decided that Po from Kung Fu Panda is ace/autistic representation

[thebisexualwreckoning]

@jegulus-microfic | day 7 - regret | word count - 221

"James Potter, if you touch me I swear you will regret it!"

James smiles, all pretty and innocent, as if he isn't the devil incarnate. Regulus takes a step back and feels the backs of his knees hit the sofa. Fear grips his body and he raises his arms to protect himself against the coming onslaught.

It's too late though, and all he can do is squeal as James' cake smeared hands grip his face. There's chocolate everywhere, from his chin to his bloody curls. He hears the click of Barty's camera somewhere in the background, knows that this moment has been immortalised forever, but the only thing he can pay attention to is the way James is looking at him. Like he's something precious.

"Happy birthday Love," James says, voice soft and adoring and just for them.

Later, when the party's over and Regulus has scrubbed his face raw trying to get the cake off, the two of them lay in bed together. James is nearly asleep, head resting on top of Regulus' stomach as he runs his fingers through his hair.

"Hey James," he whispers, fingers stilling where they are. "You know I love you right?" James only hums in response, too tired to form the proper words.

"Good. Because if you ever pull something like that again I will be divorcing you."

[blujayonthewing]

[shoechoe]

It's so funny how this was La Squadra's plan of all things. What would they have done if they saw Trish's ability was just to make things soft (AKA has literally nothing to do with King Crimson's ability).

How does the logic follow through here... how does her Stand even help them track anything really

[all-that-jazz-93]

'Kay I'm starting to think Chad Michael Murray actually hurt his hand during the production of season two

[thesilverlock]

Fandom OC Ask Meme

⟢⋱⟡☾ a collection of asks for OCs belonging to specific fandoms

How does (canon character) feel about your OC?

How does your OC feel about (canon character)?

Has your OC ever made (canon character) laugh? / What about cry?

Do your OC and (canon character) ever cross paths?

Which canon character annoys your OC?

What canon character gets annoyed by your OC?

Which canon character respects your OC most? What gained that respect?

Which canon character doesn’t respect your OC whatsoever?

Which canon character does your OC respect a lot?

Which canon character does your OC not respect at all? Why?

Which canon character is pissed off by the general presence of OC? (we all have those people)

Does your OC have a crush on anyone?

Who would probably have a crush on your OC?

Who would your OC most likely to get a puppy-crush on? (but it can’t be the cc they’re actually shipped with!)

Who would your OC say is their best friend?

Who would call your OC their best friend?

Who has brought your OC to tears before?

Who has your OC made cry?

Is there someone your OC didn’t like at first, but then got along with later?

Is there someone your OC liked at first, but then grew to dislike?

Who does your OC hate?

Who does your OC love? (platonic)

Who does your OC love? (familial)

Does your OC love anyone? (romantic)

Has your OC ever had to let a canon character down easy?

Has your OC ever been rejected by a canon character?

Did your OC bear witness to anyone’s full character arc?

What is the worst thing your OC does in their story?

What is your OC’s ‘‘darkness moment’’ in the plot?

What is your OC’s redemption moment?

Is there a canon character that your OC needs to ask forgiveness towards?

Is there a canon character your OC needs to forgive?

Is there anyone who your OC would die for?

Is there a canon character who would die for your OC?

[carlsdarling]

Heated arguments

Carl and Y/N have an argument, then some make-up sex, and it gets really emotional... More of a plot, and also sex and fluff. Everyone is 18 or over. (This was requested, but the request somehow vanished from my inbox, don't know.)

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex

You were just fed up. Carl's overprotective attitude, the way he constantly tried to control you and forbid you to do things, and you glared at him angrily when he scolded you for going on a supply run with Maggie and Glenn for once and then leaving them to search a pharmacy and getting surrounded by walkers. You'd wanted to search the pharmacy for a few more personal items, including condoms.

"You could have died," Carl told you, his face pale with anger, his jaw tense. "You almost died!"

"No, I wouldn't have died," you contradicted defiantly and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

"Are you kidding me?" Carl's voice pitched. "Maggie told me that there were at least a dozen walkers in the pharmacy when she and Glenn came in, and that you were stuck on top of a cabinet! If Maggie and Glenn hadn't vanquished the walkers, they would have tipped the cabinet over and eaten you alive."

"No, they wouldn't have," you replied against your better judgment. "The walkers would have given up."

Carl stared at you, stunned, his eye narrowed. "Are you really that stupid, Y/N, or are you just faking it?" he insulted you, ruffling his hair. "You know, I may not want to admit that my girlfriend has a birdbrain, but obviously she does," he stated brutally. "No one with a shred of intelligence would put themselves in a predicament like that! And then you get upset that I'm supposedly controlling you? Yes, maybe I do, but the reason is that you're stupid and reckless and can't take care of yourself!" Angrily, he clenched his right fist and punched a locker.

You flinched at his words and his outburst of anger, and you began to seethe inside. "Oh yeah, but of course Carl Grimes The Almighty is perfect! Who puts themselves in danger all the time, on purpose? You do! How many times have I told you not to go into dark stores alone to loot unimportant stuff?"

Only recently you had scolded Carl for going into an abandoned department store just to get an old CD player for you. Beaming like a child, he had presented the item to you and had been as proud as all the times before when he had taken extra dangerous actions just to be able to give you presents - perfume, jewelry, make-up, books, anything he knew you would like. No matter how many times you told him to stop, he wouldn't listen to you.

"At least I can look after myself," Carl replied angrily. "You can't. I forbid you to go on any tours without me!"

You put your hands up indignantly. "You don't have any right to forbid whatsoever, Carl! Fuck you!" you shouted at him before turning around abruptly and running off in the direction of your house.

"Fine!" Carl called after you. "Then do what you want!" Enraged, he marched off in the opposite direction, his hands in his pockets. It was true that he regularly did dangerous things himself - but only to please you and impress you. No, actually that was only half the truth. Carl's missing eye made him feel inferior to the other new lads in Alexandria, and he lived in constant fear that you might leave him for one of them. Carl couldn't bear the thought of losing you, so he desperately tried to impress and spoil you to prove to you that he was the best option for you. Even if it meant risking his life.

You slammed the door behind you in anger and even started cleaning the house in your frustration. Who did Carl think he was?

Not even an hour passed before there was a knock at the door. Standing on the threshold - Carl. You looked at him in silence. "Can I come in?" he asked shyly. Wordlessly, you let him in. "I... can we get along again?" He looked at you pleadingly and his hands were shaking, he was obviously nervous.

"Carl, you called me a birdbrain, I..."

"I didn't mean it that way," he murmured, hugging you and burying his face against your shoulder. "Let me make it up to you?"

Your body responded to Carl as it always did, and you moaned softly as he began to kiss your neck. You were like wax in his hands; you always had been, and you didn't protest as he directed you to the couch in the living room, swept the cushions down and pressed you onto the padding. "Carl, this is inappropriate, we're still in an argument," you whispered, gently trying to push him away.

"I was thinking of some make-up sex," Carl whispered back, and you succumbed to the temptation - even if it didn't solve your problems. Carl unbuttoned your blouse, unhooked your bra and soon had your jeans and panties pulled down too, leaving you naked in front of him. You couldn't wait to see him naked too and tugged impatiently at his belt. Carl stood up to hastily remove his clothes, and before he was about to lie back down next to you, you grabbed his slim hips, grasping his proudly erected dick and giving the tip some kitten licks, then slowly slid his veiny shaft into your mouth and sucked on it.

Carl's knees got wobbly, he inhaled sharply and began to whimper, then he put his hand on your head, tousled your hair and controlled the movements of your mouth. "Oh yes, please," he whispered breathless with arousal. You cupped his balls with one hand and rubbed them while you continued to slowly suck Carl off. Some precum leaked out of his cock and you swallowed it before suddenly withdrawing from him, eliciting a sound of disappointment from Carl. His dick glistened with your saliva as he lay on top of you without further foreplay, gently forcing your legs apart and thrusting into you in one smooth motion. You were more than ready for him and moaned out, your hot, soaking wet walls clenching around his cock. Carl's heart was beating right next to yours as he fucked you with skilled movements. You buried your face in his neck curve, kissing and nibbling his pale skin, while Carl's long hair tickled your face and you inhaled his scent, which intoxicated you as always - the typical, unique Carl scent that made your hormones go crazy.

You lifted your hips. Carl's cock slid in and out with a steady rhythm, and he breathed heavily, again and again he let out those small, adorable moans that turned you on even more. You stroked Carl's back, completely overwhelmed by your feelings for him, it was just you and Carl and your lovemaking, and your whimpering grew louder.

"You cumming?" Carl looked at you, little drops of sweat standing between his eyebrows.

"Carl, oh yes, Carl," you moaned, half senseless with lust. Carl was delighted as always that he was the reason you felt so good, and he would make sure you cum before he did. He withdrew from you almost completely, then slowly penetrated you again, again and again, until you were on the verge of madness. "Oh my God, Carl, you're so good." The orgasm came over you so hard it felt like your head was going to explode , and Carl noticed a new gush of slippery hot moisture welcoming his cock. He quickened his pace, his moans became louder and louder, his thrusts harder and more irregular, then he tensed up, all his muscles tightened, and he had his release right inside your pussy.

Carl stayed on top of you for a while, both of you sticky with sweat and body fluids, and you pressed against him. You two didn't speak until Carl finally pulled his dick out and lay down right beside you. "Are we... good with each other again?" he asked shyly.

You frowned. "The fact remains that you called me stupid, Carl," you said icily.

Carl winced with guilt. "I didn't really mean it. I'm sorry," he whispered glumly, and when you didn't respond, he reached for his jeans, which were lying on the floor next to the sofa, and fished out a necklace with a pendant in the shape of a glittering jaguar. He attempted to hand you the necklace. "Here, I found this when I was scavenging, and I thought..." He seemed anxious.

Anger welled up in you, and you slapped Carl's hand away; the necklace whirled through the air and landed on the ground. "Tell me, don't you get it?" you snapped at him. "I don't want you to keep getting unimportant things for me! You put yourself in unnecessary danger every time! For bullshit like a fucking necklace! And don't tell me you found the necklace by accident!"

Carl blushed and lowered his gaze. "You're right, the jewelry store was full of walkers. It... it's just... well, it's just that..."

You looked at him inquiringly. "It's - what, Carl?" you asked in a softer tone.

Carl struggled with himself, then it all burst out of him. "It's just that there are these new guys in the community, and I can see them staring at you - and at me, with my ruined face. I... what else can I do but go the extra mile to make sure you stay with me? To make you like me? I don't want to lose you, Y/N." Carl's lower lip quivered slightly.

Carl's words touched you and made you sad. He was so insecure about your affection for him that he felt he had to shower you with gifts and attention - even if it meant putting his life on the line. It took you a while before you could answer. Carl didn't look at you, he stared at the ceiling, a single tear trickling from his left eye. It flowed down the side of his cheek and dripped onto the sofa cushion, leaving a dark stain.

"Carl," you said, shocked. "Do you really think I feel so little for you? That I'd leave you for another guy if you didn't make an extra effort to please me all the time? No matter if you risk your life in the process?" You couldn't believe it.

Carl was crying now, and it was the first time you'd ever seen him cry, and it distressed you even more. "I... before those boys came, I was the only one here your age, and... and I was scared that you were only with me, because I am the only option." He sounded bitter. "But now that Ron and Benjamin and Spencer and the other lads are here, well... you have a choice, and why on earth would you pick me?" He sounded completely despondent.

You were completely gobsmacked, and you hugged Carl tightly. "You fucking idiot, you," you said tenderly, brushing his dark hair out of his face and kissing him; his tears tasted salty. "I didn't get together with you because you were the only option, but because I fell in love with you, eye or no eye. And I would never exchange you for another guy. And I don't want you to put yourself at risk to impress me ever again, because I couldn't bear it if something happened to you. Carl, I love you more than anything. I love you for who you are"

Carl looked at you, his eye puffy and red. "Really?" he whispered, smiling at you. It took a load off his mind. You felt him finally let go of his worries and his body relaxed.

You nodded. "Please don't ever do that again," you urged him, pointing to the necklace. "Promise me."

"I promise," he said quietly and stood up for a moment to pick up the necklace from the floor. "But I can still give it to you, can't I?" He grinned mischievously. "It's already here."

You rolled your eyes. "All right," you admitted defeat. Carl put the necklace on you and cuddled up to you again. "I love you, Y/N," he whispered happily, wrapping his arms around you.

--

Tags: @knochentrocken0808 @tessasweet @xxcarlswifexx @taylormarieee

[maidragoste]

hey hun! im sorry for your loss and i saw u post abt needing distracting. so could u write a jace x reader? it could be any plot you want whatsoever and could it be a modern au? as well fluffy! is that okay?

Hi, how are you?

Thank you for your message 💖 I'm sorry it took me so long to upload your request (in the end it cost me more than I thought to recover and then university and trying to find a job overwhelmed me) but I hope you like the result 🥰💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

It hadn't really been Jacaerys' intention to wait for you to come back from your date. He should be doing some college work but instead, he's watching TV without paying attention to it thinking about how the hours are passing and you still haven't come home. Your date should be fun if you don't text Jace anymore. Jace shouldn't be worried about you because he knew Rhaena would never have set you up with an idiot but he still couldn't help being worried.

Jacaerys wanted you to come home and see if you were okay. It would hurt him to hear the details of your date and see you all excited about another boy but he would bear it.

If only Jace wasn’t afraid of ruining things between you two then he would have taken you out himself after hearing you complain about how your love life is dead instead of letting Rhaena set you up with one of her friends. But Jacaerys is sure that you don’t see him as more than a friend and he doesn’t want to risk losing you so he doesn’t make a move. He's content with being able to be in your life, with the chaotic mornings of the two of you getting ready before going to class, with your text messages telling him everything that happens to you during the day, with the nights cooking together and with the breaks where you watch series snuggled together on the couch.

Jacaerys looks away from the TV as he hears the keys clicking into the lock. You walk in and Jace feels a pit in his stomach because you don’t look excited, you look defeated? Your eyes meet his and you give him a tired smile but you quickly break eye contact to take off your coat and sneakers and then run to the couch with him.

“So you wanna talk about it?” Jacaerys doesn’t even finish asking how much you’re already talking.

“It was fine. He’s nice and we talked for hours. Everything was going well until the end because he tried to kiss me.” If you hadn’t been busy fidgeting nervously you would have noticed how your roommate seemed to tense up all of a sudden. “I declined and he wasn’t bothered but it was awkward.” You sighed.

“Why did you reject him? Are you the kind of person who has a rule of not kissing on the first date?”

“Because I don’t like him” you declared, suddenly looking up and for a moment, at the intensity of your gaze, Jace forgot to breathe. “I could be his friend, but I’m not interested in him in any other way.”

“Oh” was the only thing that came out of the surprised man’s mouth.

“Oh,” you repeated, “Why did you wait for me, Jace?”

“Who said I was waiting for you? I was watching TV” he denied instantly.

“Jace”

Seeing your beautiful eyes looking at him pleadingly for a moment, Jace was afraid to give in and confess everything to you, as for more than a year he can’t stop thinking about you and wants to be more than your friend. But again, he’s afraid of making you uncomfortable and losing your friendship, so he asks instead.

“What does that have to do with you not liking your date?”

“While I was with him I realized that I actually wanted to be home with you” you confessed and instantly regretted it when you saw that he remained silent. “Forget it. I'm sorry for making it weird” You got up ready to go to your room so you could have a crisis alone about ruining your friendship with Jace when he took you by the hand and pulled you causing you to end up on top of him.

“Oh no, I don’t plan on forgetting it, not when I’ve been pining for you for over a year,” he stated making you smile.

“You’re a coward,” you mocked without malice. “Over a year and you never made a move. You’re lucky I decided to act.”

“You’re right,” he said smiling unbothered. “Now that we’ve established that I’m a fool and you’re the best, can I kiss you?” he asked and you laughed feeling delighted with him.

“Try not to sound so desperate to kiss me.”

“Can you blame me?” He arched an eyebrow, any embarrassment or fear he felt disappearing the moment he knew his feelings were reciprocated. “I thought a lot about kissing you and I finally have the chance.”

At his confession, you felt heat on your face and your smile grew. “You're such a fool.” You took his face in your hands and felt your heart warm at the softness with which Jace looked at you.

The moment your lips touched his Jacaerys knew he would become addicted to your kisses. He would look for any excuse to kiss you as many times as he wanted. You would probably become the clingy couple that his friends would make fun of. But he didn't care and he didn't think you would either because you were kissing him with the same intensity.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

@chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @partypoison00 @labellapeaky @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @natashaobo @watercolorskyy @nyenye @savagemickey03 @kishie8 @ewwwitsel @arabis-world @missusnora @nzygftoji @alisoncdariel @cookielovesbook-akie @partnerincrime0 @klara-lily @427120lxld @justhereiguess2 @buckylahey @wa801 @artistadistrada2002 @thelastemzy @justanotherkpopstanlol @yn-jackson @jacesvelaryons @pictureofcaroline

hotd masterlist

[pinkmirth]

⸻ 𝐸𝒳𝒞ℰ𝒫𝒯ℐ𝒪𝒩!

𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮ℐ𝒮 ⨾ isaac’s contempt for humans is unshakeable. though maybe, just maybe, you can convince him there are still a few good souls left— that you could be of the utmost value to him.

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜ℐ𝒩𝒮 ⨾ ( 1k+ words of . . . ) isaac laforeze x fem!reader (black coded), canon divergent, set in the 15th century (1400s), nsfw/smut, porn with no plot whatsoever, unestablished relationship, hook-up, size difference, rough sex, mating press, gagging using a shirt, isaac is mean, explicit language, lowercase intended, not proofread, minors shoo!

𝑀𝒴 𝐿𝒪𝒱ℰ-𝒩𝒪𝒯ℰ! ⨾ this man has been growing on me, i cannot lie . . . he’s vengeful and cruel and that makes him sexy in my warped little mind >< to all the isaac fuckers, please enjoy! ❤︎

what the fuck is he doing? 

isaac has no clue. all he’s sure of is that right now, in this very moment, you lie beneath him. not in the way you’d imagine either, such as pinning you down and forcing that you accept defeat; but with clothes ridden and a gaze overtaken by lust. it isn’t only you that’s succumbed; it pains him to admit that he wants this too. 

to put it simply, the man’s bedding you— a malicious man who reserves compassion for no one, not even himself. isaac thought he had no appetite for these kinds of things. it’s much closer in his nature to pierce a forging dagger clean through one’s chest, send their spirit on a trip down to hell, and conjure up a better being out of them. he’s even considered turning you. but perhaps, he likes you just as you are. your devotion to him is admirable. he can tell that you love him— it’s terribly obvious, with how eager you are to please. as for whatever’s happening between you and himself, he isn't sure if he could even call it lovely.

it’s more of a rendezvous, as he’d like to put it. you’re there when he needs you to be, so sweet and forever pliant, and he takes full advantage of that. he isn’t fond of your kind, but you intrigue him, so he’ll give you a chance. if humans are good for anything, it can be to gratify him in the very least. 

you’re molded into the position that isaac has shaped you to take; at your back, legs coiling around his waist, with your dainty hands flailing in search of his firm biceps to grab onto. you like to think that you can handle the man, and you’ve surely slept with him quite enough times to accustom yourself. it’s just that tonight, he’s going so fast. he’s had a sour day, you bet. now he’s here at your chamber to take it out on you; not that you mind it. desperation coming from the likes of isaac laforeze is enough to get yourself off of. 

“mmph— forgemaster!” you whine out to him. he couldn’t care less.

“quiet.” isaac hushes you, bringing a large veined hand coming to press at your throat. he’s big, imposing, mean. you should hate him, considering that he likely, no, undoubtedly hates you . . . but his harsh pounding makes your brain melt away.

“don’t be a nuisance, just take me. it’s the only thing you can do right, after all.” 

he might be currently spitting venom your way, but you think he’s actually growing more of a liking to you. in truth, you might just have hopeful thinking (including an unhealthy attachment to the man.) before, isaac would only ever take you from behind so he didn’t have to see your ‘disgustingly shameless expressions,’ as he’d call them. he couldn't bring himself to bear witness to your glossy eyes. now, he’s got you laid on your back, so he can unleash the nastiest set of words straight into your face. 

apart from the bedroom, he isn’t necessarily rude. isaac speaks with poise, his accented tone forever calm. the forgemaster is nothing but well-mannered. yet, hatred still remains. you see it quite clearly— a fiery contempt that his eyes cannot hide. 

there’s a narrow bead of sweat that travels down the side of isaac’s face, his mahogany-red eyes focused on your core as he wrecks you, spearing you open time and time again. the man peers down at you with what you could only consider to be disdain, and such a look shouldn’t excite you so. it’s as if the wet squelch of your pussy is too vulgar, too loud for him. he’s ramming in with reckless abandon, and your cunt’s making a nasty mess all over his smooth, clean-shaven pelvis. 

he’s so fucking rough, uncaring of whether or not it hurts. his thighs are flexing along with his rugged thrusts, enveloping you within the security of his deep brown frame. between your body and his, you slip a hand down to rub at your neglected clit, since you know he isn’t about to go out of his way and do it for you.

you mewl with every jolt of his hips, and he’s had enough of the sound. isaac stops, takes hold of both your legs, presses them down to your chest, and keeps them there with his own weight. in this air-thinning position, he slips back into your heat. this time, with more control. his reign on you is stronger, and his thick cock is going so much deeper. 

“by god, just— fucking shut up.” his otherwise handsome face is twisted into a shadowed scowl. oh, how humans irritate him so. he prays that the lord can forgive him for his spiteful heart. “be good, just this once . . . don’t allow my patience to wear thin, woman.” 

not wanting to upset him further, you take your bunched-up top from your chest and bite into it, drooling over the fabric to keep yourself quiet. isaac almost chuckles. it’s simply air passing through his nose, but a laugh nonetheless. 

“you look better that way.” he grunts, bruising your soft-brown flesh with his grip, “when you’re being muzzled.”

you begin squeezing him rapidly, cunt fluttering in a way that tells him you’re closer than ever. you moan into the spit-riddled cloth and shut your eyes hard once you come all over him, leaving the both of you with sticky essence dripping down to your thighs. isaac’s climax soon nears, a lowly ‘fuck,’ escaping him. he pulls out instantly, allowing his cum drop onto your heaving tummy in hot spurts. the last thing he wants is to bring another poor soul to a world as cruel as this one. 

all is done, the highs pass, and your eyes meet. his own, colored similarly to the finest redwood, have softened just by a little. maybe you’ve fucked away some of his contempt. isaac brings a hand to his tattooed forehead, and wipes off his sweat with the back of it. 

“it’s reassuring to know that humans are useful for something.” 

© 𝑃ℐ𝒩𝒦ℳℐℛ𝒯ℋ! — all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ౨ৎ

[throwing-in-the-towel]

my long awaited thinkpiece prompted by a tiktok posted by mickeyjotheatre:

gonna be extremely long. bear with me. i like to be thorough!

very brief background introduction for this post: the user listed above (who is an avid theater goer and reviewer for both broadway & the west end) decided to share a video talking about the closing of Suffs and how that relates to The Outsiders. a comparison that is pretty unnecessary imo except for the fact that they play on the same street & opened in the same season, but hey that's just my opinion! these two shows are nowhere near similar whatsoever and it is pretty crazy to act as though they are comparable in any sense of the word.

MJT starts to mention how Suffs won the Tonys for Best Score & Best Book of a musical. he also mentions how The Outsiders won Best Director & Best Musical! however, he only points out how none of the nominated acting performances for The Outsiders won Tonys, but doesn't mention how none of the nominated Suffs performances won either!!! later in his video, MJT does graciously mention how The Outsiders was directed by a woman (Danya Taymor) and the original novel was written by a woman (S.E. Hinton). he goes on to say that it seems as though young women seem to be attending The Outsiders over Suffs, even though The Outsiders is about "emotionally inarticulate men" while Suffs is about "emotionally articulate, very intelligent and driven young women." he also mentions how any time he has been on 45th, there is always screaming at The Outsiders stage door, but not as Suffs. while he does (off-handedly) mention that Suffs has some passionate & enthusiastic fans, he disregards them pretty quickly. i know some people who are major fans of Suffs, and they deserve more respect than that. not fair to compare fanbases that are made up of different demographics entirely.

he doesn't think he's the person to have a conversation about that, but starts one anways! so i will finish it for him! :D

before i get into my thoughts, i wanna jump back to MJT's intial review on The Outsiders!! a lot of the comments he makes about aspects of the show are shared in a very patronizing and condescending tone. i have an example here for you guys: "which signifies to us, the audience, he can be better than all this because he's reading a classic novel." which was in relation to pony reading great expectations. i fear that is not the point of him reading that book! he also shares that it's an "annoying habit of retaining the first person point of view" and uses "telling rather than showing"...well that is how narration works! the story being in first person is extrememly important to every aspect of the plot. pony can even be considered an unreliable narrator. it's important, no matter how annoying you thought it was! MJT used the drive-in scene btwn cherry & pony as an example, saying that when pony tells the audience about cherry's family that cherry's depth is taken away so pony can talk to the audience??? ok, i think the point of cherry's character kinda just missed you a little then! he thinks the lack of cherry is very frustrating :/ you know what's frustrating to me? speaking on things that young women enjoy as if your interests are better than theirs!

there are more takes that i, frankly, disagree with in the duration of his 23 minute video that i so painfully sat through, but i will spare you guys the boring details. i will share a quote from him, "the characters are emotionally inarticulate men who are performing a certain amount of masculinity and aggression in order to survive their circumstances. does that prohibit you from a certain amount of emotional connection? you can feel bad for them, but i don't know that they necessarily have the requisite vulnerability to allow you to feel that emotional connection." all in all here, i think the plot and relationships between these characters just went completely over his head. constantly commenting on how these boys are "emotionally inarticulate," then refusing to mention moments like DAMD, TITT, Soda's Letter, or even the final scene between the curtis brothers is certainly a choice!

i would like to get to my thoughts, more so on the intial tiktok now. i think it's important to acknowledge that a lot of people seeing The Outsiders aren't theater fans and that there are definitely a lot of younger people (not just young women btw) that go to the show because the cast is conventionally attractive. im not gonna sit here and say there aren't attractive people in the cast, because that would be a lie. i also can say that a pretty face doesn't keep a show open and make it as successful as this one has been. also who cares if a decent amount of the fans are young women? that means more young people getting into theater and engaging with theater content online, which is great to see! young women are usually very in tune with picking out what will be successful and what won't be! maybe there's a reason why The Outsiders is the show staying open!

it's also important to note how accesible the cast is for this show. they are extremely active on social media, which raises fan interest and engagement. and a lot of that is due to Melody Rose, a FEMALE cast member!!!!! IP does better on broadway than original stories in the current climate, that sucks, i agree, but that is not the fault of teenagers and what shows they are choosing to see. the music of The Outsiders is more engaging and the story is more relatable for younger people. if you sat and thought about it for more than 15 minutes, you'd realize why it's so successful. it's a story about acceptance, perseverance, family and love, and boiling it down to being about emotionally inept men who are attractive, you're doing a disservice to the story that has resonated with so many in the darkest of places.

[blasphemousclaw]

For send a character ask: Radahn!

ahh, Radahn… forever an enigma

• favorite thing about them

who he is as a person — his family background, his beliefs, and who he ultimately chooses to be — is so endlessly interesting to me. being a child of both the Erdtree and the Moon, growing up idolizing the Erdtree’s champions like his father and Godfrey, but being a talented sorcerer in his own right like his mother, was he conflicted when Radagon betrayed Rennala? did he ever come to resent his father, both for breaking his mother’s heart and for replacing his greatest idol, Godfrey? there’s something so significant to me about Radagon despising his red hair, and Radahn embracing that same hair he inherited as the mark of a champion. did this affect his relationship with Radagon? on the other hand, did he know that challenging the stars was also halting his Carian family’s fate? did he care? there’s such a fascinating back-and-forth between Radahn and both sides of his family!

• least favorite thing about them

his writing in the dlc… will never get over how botched it feels. and I’m not talking about the actual plot points, I’m talking about how those plot points were revealed to us in the story! the reason why everyone felt like him showing up was an asspull plot twist was because there’s no hint whatsoever in the base game that Miquella and Radahn ever had a relationship at all. as a result, I think the writers had to speedrun a Radahn-Miquella reveal plotline with Freyja and Ansbach, while cramming references to Radahn into the dlc (like the Red Bear npc, and his relationship to Gaius and Messmer) to make him seem less out of nowhere… but to me it just comes across as a rushed plotline with extremely clumsy foreshadowing. I guess they didn’t know they would get to make a dlc when they made the game so they didn’t include anything about him and Miquella in the base game so there wouldn’t be random plot threads that go nowhere, or they originally planned something slightly different that didn’t pan out so they had to rework it but were only able to do so in the dlc. either way extremely disappointing. also his promised consort remembrance weapons are the laziest excuse for a remembrance of all time they’re just the starscourge greatswords again but different. is this some kind of sick joke

• favorite line

[footage not found]

just kidding he does have a few quotes: I’ve always liked “I was born a champion’s cub. Now I am the Lord of the Battlefield’s lion.” because of what it says about how he sees Radagon and Godfrey!

• brOTP

Rykard :33 his painting of Radahn means so much to me, it’s such a fond gesture… and the abductor virgins in Caelid seem like Rykard was really looking out for him! it makes me sad to think that they might’ve once been really close but drifted apart because of the war and their own priorities, but also still cared about each other

• ОТР

I don’t actively ship him with anyone tbh nothing has especially caught my interest

• nОТР

I resent Radahn/Miquella ONLY because their relationship has no buildup whatsoever and completely breaks the “show don’t tell” rule of storytelling. we’re told Miquella admired Radahn, but we never see this until he shows up as the final boss! I definitely wouldn’t dislike this ship if they had handled this storyline better but unfortunately with how things went it’s just embarrassing to me

• random headcanon

loves the outdoors… camping, hiking, riding, hunting, any physical activity where he gets to be outside. Rykard is the opposite. Radahn used to bring him on trips and he’d complain the whole way through

• unpopular opinion

I wrote a post about this already, but I think people are too quick to assume that he’s a Golden Order loyalist who wants to preserve the world in its current state. you could go on and on listing reasons why he would actually oppose the current Order… and in fact I did go on and on about it here. I think the most crucial thing to note is that Radahn has always made idolizing Godfrey his entire personality, and Godfrey was literally banished… the Order is very different now from what it once was!

• song i associate with them

again I only listen to instrumental music so I don’t really have thoughts on this sorry 🥹

• favorite picture of them

the Rykard painting <3

I really like how he’s depicted here… he’s got like a mature, lined face, and the way the painting is displayed (in a nicely furnished drawing room above the fireplace) feels like a very public declaration of respect and admiration? I think it says something about Radahn’s character that his brother who despises the Golden Order still seems to look up to him and care for him!

[johannestevans]

The Joy of Trans Creation

On the liberty of making unapologetically transgender art.

Originally published in Prism & Pen.

For me as a child, there was no real transgender representation around me.

Transfeminine characters were exciting when I saw them, even though they were frequently the butt of jokes, highly sexualised, or the targets of violence from the narratives they appeared in. They were never afforded complex character arcs, and I can’t recall any trans women on my screens or on the pages of the books appearing for more than an episode or in small appearance before being killed or disappearing off-screen.

And trans men?

Nothing.

In the British soap series, Waterloo Road, there was a narrative about a trans guy that started when I was a young teenager myself, and it was… difficult. The narrative was clumsy and uninformed about trans experiences. It seemed more about cisgender parents’ anxieties about their trans children and was very conservative in extending liberty or freedom to the trans guy’s life or his body. He was sporty, a football player, and dykey — he was presented almost as if he was transitioning just to play sports.

And the obvious inspiration for this Waterloo Road plot, She’s The Man (2006) was…

Well, that wasn’t much to write home about either. The film is about a girl disguising herself as a boy in order to play soccer. I know that Amanda Bynes, who played the protagonist in She’s The Man, has talked in interviews about experiencing a lot of gender dysphoria whilst in the role, but what better encapsulation of the fact that trans roles were and still are so often played by cis actors who have no business doing so?

I remember watching She’s The Man as a kid and finding a lot of the jokes not very funny. These two trans male narratives, the only ones that I ever saw until I was much older, bore no resemblance to my life, my desires, and my feelings, whatsoever.

They were cisgender heterosexual people’s fantasies of transgender men. One is about a woman “thankfully” going back on her vile trans ways and revealing herself to be sexy and female after playing at being a pathetic and unmasculine man; the other is about an undesirable and lesbianish teenager who is “obviously” transitioning to get around misogyny, more than for any of his internal feelings.

I felt far more gender euphoria — far more excitement, more sense of feeling loved and cared for and genuinely represented and validated — when I saw effortlessly queer and fruity men on my screens. Characters like Hook and Smee in Hook (1991), or Armand and Albert in The Birdcage (1996): two silly, middle-aged men being overdramatic and in love with one another. Or characters like Hollywood Montrose in Mannequin (1987): fashion-focused, catty and, emotional.

Or, hell, even characters like the sexy gay leather bikers in the Blue Oyster Bar in the Police Academy movies — they’re intended as a recurring punchline, but nevertheless portrayed hot hairy men who dance the tango and unapologetically love and desire other men.

I did not feel like or want to be an eternal little boy for being transgender, continuously infantilised and emasculated, treated as if I wasn’t a real man. Moreover, I had no interest in feeling or acting as though manhood or masculinity or men were something I should have been superior to.

I’m a fashionable, pretty gay dude with so many joint problems that going for a jog can put me out of action for days. Narratives about straight trans guys, let alone ultra-sporty ones, couldn’t bear any less resemblance to my life or my desires as a man.

There’s a reason many cisgender people are attracted to these narratives about transmasculinity, and unfortunately, it has nothing to do with truly supporting the trans men who are lesbians, or who are sporty or straight. It has more to do with their feelings about which “women” are best to “allow” to transition, and so much of those feelings are based on their expectations of female attractiveness or desirability within heterosexual society, and never truly afford love or respect to those men.

And men like me?

We’re unthinkable, and thus, invisible.

Times have changed, a little — I do see more trans men on television and in film, bit by bit. I know that in animation particularly, great strides are being made in portraying various trans characters, and we see a much wider variety of trans characters in shows and film.

I do still think that I see far more they/them trans masc types who are often a white monolith with similar butch lesbian stylings, dyed hair, and certain piercings, often as a sort of introduction for cis hetero viewers to the concept of nonbinary identity or the use of they/them pronouns. I know many people like this in real life, nonbinary or trans, and the issue isn’t their physical appearance or the fact that they’re depicted like this — it’s that their characterisations are so often one-note.

I can’t think of seeing a character introduced as nonbinary who appears more transfeminine, or who characters would automatically label as “he” instead of “she” before being corrected to they/them, because nonbinary identity is treated in popular media as a sort of woman-lite; I can think of one gay trans guy who’s in Shameless; I can’t think of many trans men on television at all or in film who are fat, non-white or disabled.

Television and film are still a long way behind the beautiful diversity of real trans experience — but I write books and short stories. I get to create, as a gay trans man, trans men like me, and trans men like my friends, and craft narratives about trans experience that cisgender people would never be able to.

I published my second novel this month. One of the main characters is a transmasc fallen angel with BPD — he’s cold and arrogant, manipulative, cruel, and at the same time, he’s endlessly loving and charismatic, he’s beautiful and savage, he’s radical and believes strongly in his ideas, and in the rights of everybody.

I could not have imagined in my wildest dreams as a child seeing a character like that in any book I read. But many other trans men, trans people, queer people, and readers in general, will be able to pick up my book and connect to that character, see themselves in him, and love him or despise him as they might any other character.

There is no limit as an indie author to the trans characters that I can create, or how many of them I can have. I don’t have to limit myself to having a singular trans man on a cast of cis-hetero characters, his whole person and physicality aligned to the cisgender stereotype of transmasculinity.

I have dozens of trans characters in the universes I create, and many of them are trans men like me, or not: fat trans men, trans men of colour, Jewish trans men, disabled trans men, traumatised trans men. They’re tailors, revolutionaries, students, teachers, historians, archivists, office workers, stablehands, fops, librarians, adventurers, rogues, pirates, sailors, bastards or angels, heroes or villains.

The sheer joy of that reality is striking me regularly at the moment whenever someone leaves a kind or enthusiastic comment on my works or in their reviews. There’s so much joy that people display in reading my short stories or buying my books, and God, the wonder that I feel when I attend conventions or events and people recognise me or recognise my work and enthuse about it to me.

There is no greater compliment to me, no better assurance, no more loving thing to be told or to overhear, than “Finally, I feel seen.”

“He’s just like me!” or “I’ve never felt so represented,” or “Oh, I want to be him. I am him already. I love him.”

It’s lonely to be transgender.

In a society that punishes and penalises any acts of gender transgression or perceived deviation from the norm or expectation, the transgender or nonbinary or otherwise gender-nonconforming person is constantly at risk — and aware of the risk — of ostracisation, of victimisation, of violence, or assault. We go through life aware that we may be attacked or discredited, violently assaulted, denied medical care, treated as unworthy of love, abused, harmed, hurt.

We must fear and be wary of isolation from our friends, our loved ones, and our communities, because society fears us and has been taught it can hate us. Other people, those that we love, that we care about, forging those connections and keeping them strong, they are how we can survive.

And how do we do that, when we don’t know in our heart of hearts that those like us exist? When we can’t be sure that we exist?

I was very lucky as a young man to feel confident and assured in seeing myself and then establishing myself as like the queer, fruity men that I saw and loved on the screen, no matter that they weren’t made with the thought of transgender men like me. Yet so many others, people I talk to, people I’ve never heard of, do not have that assurance.

They stand in front of a mirror and they don’t see anything. To feel transgender before one’s transition is often to see oneself or think of oneself as existing in potentia. We are an egg yet to crack and hatch; we are a soul without a vessel as yet.

How can we imagine a future for ourselves when we can’t envisage it? When we have no framework or canvas or idea of how a person like us can look, can live, can exist? How can we conceive of what we might be or what we truly are, when we might be grappling with our own pains and trauma and dysphoria, and at the same time society’s disregard of us, when we have never known or thought of others like us existing — let alone existing in beautiful diversity, in variety, in the complexity that we truly do?

Whenever I get one of those comments or whenever someone says a kind word to me about my work as a trans man and I see the light in that person’s eyes or the enthusiasm in the words they’ve written, there is an unspeakably immense happiness and joy in it.

To have taken part in that, to have created a mirror for that person to see themselves in, a character or characters that make that person feel real— not merely validated or represented, but seen and loved and cared for by a complete stranger, I can name no greater privilege.

It’s a shame I didn’t have that in my childhood, sure, but what’s important is that I and, far more importantly, a whole variety of trans and nonbinary creators, are doing that work today.

In Daniel Ortberg’s Something That May Shock and Discredit You, there’s a truly beautiful quote:

As my friend Julian puts it, only half winkingly: “God blessed me by making me transsexual for the same reason God made wheat but not bread and fruit but not wine, so that humanity might share in the act of creation.”

In being transgender I have created myself — no longer in potentia, I have developed and evolved. I’ve played with my hair and my face and my jewellery and my clothes; I’ve fed and nurtured my masculinity and my love for men and manhood as a gay man; I have created myself, and that’s been very joyful for me…

But to create works that help other people, transgender or otherwise, men or otherwise, create themselves? See for themselves the sort of people they’d like to be, how they would like to make themselves created?

That is a triumph beyond measure, and I am so grateful to do so.

[newapocalyptia]

I gotta be honest, I feel like you can’t really kill Sal because he’s kind of the glue of the whole thing? He’s the catalyst for a lot of plot it seems, and if it wasn’t for him, a lot of the characters wouldn’t have met each other (probably?), had their kids, and idk I know you keep saying he’s a bad guy but I really like him. He has redeeming qualities *to me* lol. (I totally understand it’s your universe and you’re of course deciding what happens in the end! If this was a Real TV Show™️ though I would definitely be the one on AO3 woobifying Sal in my fanfics. I just love a morally ambiguous/‘evil’ character and everyone else is so nice lol)

oh, I have no intentions whatsoever of killing Sal! jokes from the time traveling bits about his future demise aside, he’s a load-bearing asshole— you’re right, he’s almost as much of a plot catalyst as the apocalypses are. The core of the narrative is Marian’s irresponsible loyalty to her scumbag brother, they’re essentially the two main characters.

I love my little bastard conman, and his nihilistic fuckboy bestie lmao

[wolfythewitch]

one of my headcanons for odysseus that has no bearing on the plot whatsoever is that he can cry on command

[wardenparker]

The Viper's Bride - ch 9

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: 16k 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* Pregnancy/motherhood talk, intimacy, secrets revealed but even more secrets kept, generalized foreplay, fingers, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, foursome, group sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, reference to other sexual groupings, miscommunication, jealousy, the plot thickens. Summary: A fateful morning with Oberyn, Raeden, and Ellaria precedes an unexpected conversation with Queen Margaery. But not everything is easy or even seas in the evolving relationship between your soulmate pairs. Notes: The troubles with tag list errors and cold medicine use continue. Sorry again, but thank you all for bearing with me! I'm going to try to get this taglist nonsense sorted ASAP. THIS CHAPTER HAS NO TAGLIST ON IT WHATSOEVER. Sorry for the chaos.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

The first night at the Red Keep for your party was uncomfortable until it came time to be together. To revel in intimacy. Ellaria had absconded with Raeden after making sure you were still comfortable with the arrangement, and you had kissed your soulmate soundly before sending him into the other room and climbing into bed with your husband.

This morning when Leyth comes to wake you, you are draped over Oberyn's chest and deeply asleep. So much so that both of them chuckle softly as you drag yourself to wakefulness from your wonderful dreams. "There is a card with your breakfast tray this morning, your Highness." Leyth tells you with pride in her voice. As if it must be very important.

"A card?" You blink twice – three times – and accept the note from her before even thinking of getting out of bed. "Ah." Once you manage to read it twice through, you hand it to Oberyn and sink back into his arms. "The Queen has chosen a time for our walk. The widowed queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the Princess of Dorne, and the Prince's formidable lover, all to walk together through the gardens this morning."

“Very astute of you to insist that Ellaria come.” Oberyn smiles as he reads the card. “The Queen is a clever girl. Her grandmother has taught her well. That woman is a force to be reckoned with.” He chuckles. “I believe my own grandfather said he would have wedded her in an instant.”

“It was Margaery who first spoke so well of you to me,” you tell him, humming softly as you bow your head to kiss his skin when his shoulder meets his neck.

"For some reason Olenna Tyrell has always held Dorne and the Martells in high regard." He hums with a soft smile. "I feel as if she has taught her granddaughter to overlook the prejudices that other parts of the Kingdom have against us."

“I think I will be obliged to inform her that she downplayed your good qualities.” Feeling playful this morning, you grin up at your husband. “You asked me once to befriend her. Does that still stand?”

“If you wish.” Oberyn nods. “It is always good to have a friendly banter with the Queen.” His hand squeezes your hip and he winks at you.

The small touch would be enough to make you purr if you were a cat, a pleased expression settling over your features at his agreement. “Ellaria has a far better talent for banter, but I will learn.”

“She has spent years at it with me.” He reminds you. “Where you have been careful with what you say for fear of what your bitch mother would do.”

"And how delighted I will be to see her in the halls of this Keep from time to time." You roll your eyes so heavily that at any moment you could fall over.

“Listen to me, Star.” Oberyn captures your chin in his hand and he stares at you seriously. “Your mother holds no power over you. And if she insults you, you can strike her down and no one would say a word. You are her better.”

"Unfortunately the words are easier said than believed." Yet your hand still comes up to cup the side of his face, and you nod, knowing that he is technically correct. The moment you married; your mother became your social inferior. Unfortunately, she was entirely successful at instilling fear in you during your childhood.

“You will one day believe it.” He promises. “The cruelty of your mother will be forgotten as you spoil your own babies.”

"I wish we could know as soon as it happens." The idea of being with child is not what scares you – that is reserved for the actual birthing process. Being with child? Your husband's child, and then your soulmate's? That is beginning to sound truly wonderful.

“Soon.” He promises with a smug smirk. “Eight other daughters, remember? I am very virile.”

"And an affinity for girls." There does not seem to be any room for second guessing when it comes to what sort of child he sires, and you cannot find it in yourself to be upset about that in any way. "I can only hope she and her sisters will love each other fiercely."

His daughters all had different mothers, other than the ones he had with Ellaria and yet there was a bond between them all that is unbreakable. They are formidable together and he has no doubt that they would accept his legitimate child just as easily. “They would die for her, kill for her.” He promises you easily. “And she will do the same.”

"I sincerely hope that will not be necessary." Placing a kiss on his shoulder, you reluctantly pull away to start the day. There is a walk to be had in an hour and you cannot keep the widowed queen waiting.

“We will have another day of meetings.” Oberyn grouses, frowning. “I do not understand why these lords need to have a meeting about wiping their asses.”

"It makes them feel important." Reaching for a bowl of berries on the tray that Leyth brought in, you bring it to the bed with you to offer it to Oberyn. "Insecure old men with tiny cocks need an extra pat on the back now and then."

Oberyn snorts and takes the berry, leaning back to chew it as he thinks about that. “Then that is why my brother and I only converse about affairs for a few moments when it serves us.”

"It must be." His amusement makes you sit up straighter, proud of making him laugh even a little. It has been nearly a week now and you are growing measurably more comfortable together every day.

“Tonight, would you like to be with your Raeden, my moon and stars?” He asks quietly. While your relationship is becoming easier, he does not wish to cause a barrier between the soulmates.

"Would that be alright with you?" Last night it had been Ellaria to make the suggestion of how to spend the night, and you know that she will have no objection to being in her soulmate's bed. Who possibly could?

“Star, I do not wish for your bond with Raeden to suffer because ours grows.” He promises you. “I would offer all of us together but I do not know where everyone stands.” He has noticed an aloofness in his own soulmate that he needs to speak with her about.

"I have hope for that time to come soon. Though I know I am the one who has the least experience." Feeling as though you are the reason the people dearest to you must be separated is not an easy thing to swallow, and you shift away from him to pour two glasses of tea from the pot on the tray.

“I have upset you.” Oberyn observes, pushing up on one elbow as he watches you carefully.

"Not precisely." You manage to hand him a cup of tea without your hand shaking, so you will consider that a success. "I have upset myself."

“How so?” Frowning, Oberyn sits up and motions for you to join him. “Talk to me.”

"I am the least experienced of the four of us," you remind him needlessly, bringing your own cup of tea to the edge of the bed and sitting down again where he has patted his hand on the mattress. "The least...acquainted with situations like this. Therefore, I am the stumbling block."

“Why are you a stumbling block?” He asks, confused about your meaning. “You are not opposed to experiencing more. Quite the opposite.”

"But I am the most...anxious." It had not taken long to discover what gave Raeden pleasure, but you are still just beginning to learn Oberyn and have no idea what touch Ellaria might prefer. It is a situation that requires delicacy. Or at least it seems to, and that intimidates you.

“What can we do to ease your nerves?” He asks softly. It is not surprising that you are uneasy, but there is only one way to really cure that feeling.

"I truly do not know." But his gentleness – his caring – gives you hope that it will be possible to bridge this gap of unease. The answer that he does not want is the one that is probably most likely, and that is that only time will tell.

“Then we take it slow.” Oberyn decides. “Same as before.” He runs a hand down your spine to comfort you.

"You are truly an indulgent husband." And it is humbling beyond compare, to find that this man is willing to put your comfort above his own pleasure. You truly thought that Raeden was alone in being that sort of man.

“I am shocked to learn that about myself.” Oberyn teases. “Even more so to discover I do not mind the title of ‘husband’.” That has solely to do with you, if you had been like his fears, he would have despised it.

"Just as I am shocked to learn that I do not mind the title of 'wife'." Or, at least, wife to anyone besides Raeden. There had been such a block in your mind for so long, and now that you know him you feel foolish for those fears.

“It is not so bad being married to a prince.” He teases, understanding what you truly meant.

"It would have been if that prince had been someone else." Not daring to speak ill of the dead directly, you tilt your head and sip your tea instead, knowing that he will take your full meaning. "Thank you for everything you have done for me. And for what you have done for Raeden. That is no small trinket you gave him."

“He deserves it. Your soulmate is a good man.” He admits with a pleased expression. “He will make a good Lord, be good to his people.”

"It is what he has wanted for his entire life, and you have granted it to him without any ulterior motives or demands." You lean over and kiss him softly. "It makes me very proud to care for you both."

“There was a slight ulterior motive.” He admits with a grin after he takes a sip of his tea. “I wanted to make my new wife happy and to show that your soulmate was in no danger in Dorne.”

"You have done both of those things beautifully, then." And it earns him another kiss, which both of you hum into happily. "Ellaria has pointed out to me that he will have to take a wife to establish his house, and she is – as always – entirely correct. I can only hope that whoever she is, she can accept our complicated web of affection as easily as we have seemed to."

Oberyn frowns slightly, having forgotten that key piece of creating his house. “Yes.” He nods. “He will have to be very careful who he chooses.”

"But he has time." You have no desire to rush him, whatever the outcome will eventually be. There is no mistaking how lucky you have been in your own marriage.

“Yes.” He can agree with that. “He can afford to be very choosy with his choice of wife. I have decided that I will award him an estate that I have outside of Sunspear to set up as his family home.”

"So he will be close by." That is relief that you did not know you needed reassurance of, and you finish your cup of tea with a sigh. "And...you named him your hand. So he will be at court with us more often than not?"

“He will be with us as often as the two of you wish him to be.” Oberyn nods. “He will have chambers at Sunspear as well.” He promises. “Your lover will not be left in the cold.”

"How could you ever doubt your own kindness, when you are so willing to bend over backwards for those around you?" Tutting softly, he has earned one more kiss before you stand again and take both empty teacups back to the tray. The average pot of tea from the kitchens is very different from what you used to be served from the kitchens of your father's house and different altogether from the tea that your septa taught you to make, but you drink it regardless. It is a ritual that does very well to help you awaken each morning. "What are your meetings about today? Should Ellaria and I see our way to interrupting one of them to shower you and Raeden with affection?"

He chuckles and raises his brows in interest, imagining the look on the rest of the counsel's faces when his wife and his paramour burst into the chambers to love over him and his hand. "The idea has merit, but I fear that we are discussing important matters today, star." He pouts slightly at that fact and sighs.

"Another time, then." You knew the idea would amuse him, and now hopefully when he found the day to be tedious he could slip into that daydream to get himself through things. Daydreaming is how you survive just about everything, most of the time. "I know you are wary of letting your ladies roam freely since the...events of the royal wedding...but perhaps I could persuade you to let me visit the library today? As long as Ellaria is willing to accompany me?"

"Keep your daggers on you." Oberyn cautions, reaching for your hand. "I need to take some time to drag myself from your bed to make sure you know how to defend yourself properly. Although Ellaria can protect you both if the need arises."

"Husband." An amused smile tucks itself into the corner of your mouth and you turn to look at him. "I grew up with three older brothers. I may not be able to do it elegantly, but I can wallop a grown man if need be, I promise you."

"Good." He hums with a smirk. "We can teach you to do so elegantly later. As long as there is a later."

"Do you think I would give you up so easily?” Shaking your head, you pop one of his beloved berries into your mouth and move to the washbasin to refresh yourself before getting dressed. "Never."

He watches you with amusement, finding it very telling that you no longer hide your body and walk around the room proudly nude. "That is good, considering you could be carrying my babe in your belly even now."

“Do you think so?” It can happen fast. You know that as well as any other married woman. But the thought does not fill you with dread — in fact it does the opposite. If you could will a babe into being with pride, you would do it instantly.

"If people do not believe that we anticipated our vows, I will be surprised." Oberyn admits with a chuckle. "Every time Ellaria stopped drinking her tea, she was expecting right away."

"If we did not anticipate our vows, we at least had a very fruitful wedding night." It may not be the strict truth of what happened, but it is near enough. Your first night in your husband's arms was a happy one indeed. "If I did not believe it might curse our chances, I would go around the keep as if I knew it to be true already."

“That should been a dagger in your mother’s ass.” He barks out a laugh and stands so he can touch your ass like he has wished to since you turned towards the basin.

"She should not have insisted on a man she had never met." Of course you understand now why she did it, but never having met Oberyn before was her cardinal error. "She expected you to be ordinary. And you are anything but."

"I would like to think that I am not ordinary." He agrees.

"No one would dare to call you ordinary, lover." Ellaria tuts, shaking her head as she bursts through the door from the attached bedroom in her robe. "Good morning to you both."

"Good morning." Oberyn does not drop his hands from your ass. He turns his head and smiles at his lover as he continues to caress your body. "How was your Raeden last night?"

"Thorough." She is practically purring, partially because she is glad to report it but also because she is glad to see you comfortable being bare with your husband. It bodes well for your comfort. Especially because you are enjoying his touch in front of another. "And how was your gorgeous princess?"

"Still basking in my attention." Oberyn coos, leaning down and kissing your shoulder. "But you will have to ask her yourself for the truth of it." One hand slides around your hip and dips between your thighs, freshly cleaned of his cum.

"O--Oberyn." It is no surprise that your legs shake as soon as his fingers traverse the slick avenue at the apex of your thighs, and your eyes fall shut just as easily. "You cannot resist, can you?"

"Touching my beautiful wife?" He asks, scraping his teeth over your skin softly. "No, I cannot. But if you wish that I stop, just tell me."

The offer stands. To let you have your modesty and to let that be preserved for now. But Ellaria is already here - eyes delving into the wet heat between your thighs just like Oberyn's fingers are. She could watch. You could allow it. You could enjoy her eyes on you just like you've thought of. Even more unbelievably...Raeden could watch as well. "What if you did not stop?" Turning to face him, your eyes betray how intriguing the idea is to you. "What if Ellaria...o-or Raeden...they watched?"

"Then they would see how the princess likes her prince touching her." He groans, voice rapsy with lust, his fingers sliding over your clit and rubbing before circling your entrance. "What would you like them to see, star?" He asks you. "You cumming on my fingers, or my cock?"

"I--" Once you had thought it as unnatural as your attraction to Brynna. Unspeakable and ungodly. Affection and lust may not be the same - lust and the driving need for pleasure being what power this particular fantasy - but it is now within reach to find out if something you have imagined is actually as pleasurable as you have wondered. "Would that..." The pads of his fingers glide over your clit again and you gasp. "Would you...like to watch?" You manage to ask Ellaria finally.

"I would love to watch." It's not like she has not watched Oberyn with multiple lovers over the years, but there is something about watching him with you that she needs. Craves it and hopes that it will assuage the guilt that she has been burying deep in her soul. She steps closer and caresses your shoulder. "I want to see the moment the stars burst behind your eyes and your tits shake with pleasure as you find your peak."

Her hand on your bare skin seems to break something inside of you. It snaps the thin thread of your curiosity in two like a lute string and all at once you're nodding eagerly and diving in to kiss her with Oberyn's hand still between your legs.

Her muffled sound of surprise quickly turns to a moan and her hand slides up to cup your cheek. The kiss is not the restrained pressing of lips like it normally is. Instead it is hungry, searching as your tongue boldly slides into her mouth and she hums in pleasure.

The sound of familiar moans is what makes Raeden poke his head out of his bedroom in curiosity. The door has not been closed and he saw no one in the bed, so he had wondered if perhaps Leyth or Cal had come for early morning exertions. To find you sandwiched between the prince and Ellaria makes him groan outright without a chance of stifling the sound.

Oberyn turns his head and sees the lust, the spark in the other man's eyes and jerks his head. "Come." He orders roughly. "See your lover, your soulmate." He keeps his fingers working between your thighs and smirks. "You should stroke your cock while I make the princess cum. Or you can fuck Ellaria again."

"Gods above..." He cannot believe the sight before him, and licks his lips unconsciously. If he was not already half-hard again from fantasies, this would have done it without hesitation. Because he was? The man is standing at attention beneath his loose breeches and throbbing eagerly. "Do you want me to watch, my love?" He asks, knowing that you have the final verdict in this and no one else. "Witness your pleasure?" Oberyn's fingers slip inside you in the same second you open your mouth to answer, and you end up gasping out a strangled moan. "Y--yes," you nod and your chest heaves with your body's heightened responsiveness. "Gods, yes, I-- please Raeden. Watch them touch me."

"Good girl." Oberyn praises softly, proud of your decision though he would have stopped the instant you said nay. "Watch how you make his cock hard and aching to be buried in a cunt, or ass." He smirks at the other man and watches as Ellaria, greedy girl that she is, kisses down your chest and takes one nipple in her mouth.

When you moan this time it fills the room, echoing off the walls and drifting past Raeden out the window. That little bit of praise is enough to have a new flood of arousal drip from your pussy and the sound that Oberyn's fingers make the next time they dive inside you is squelching. "Bed?" You manage to beg when you have presence of mind enough to form any words at all. Ellaria's beautiful lips wrapped indulgently around your nipple is a sight well worth being distracted by.

"We can be late this morning." Oberyn decides. "We have half an hour to make the princess cry out." He tells Ellaria as he guides the two of you over to the bed.

"We will need far less." Ellaria purrs, eager to be apart of this moment. She is the only one who has not made you cum yet and she wants to make it as memorable for you as possible. Something in the pit of her own stomach tells her she must, and she has learned never to ignore that voice.

His fingers pump in and out of your cunt as he chuckles. "Yes, we are very talented in making it quick when he need to." He hums. "Perhaps we could all find pleasure?"

"I believe our princess is in charge of that decision this morning." When Oberyn lifts you onto the bed Ellaria goes with you, leaving a trail of kisses across your hot skin. She hums when you whine and nod your head eagerly, panting in heavy, quick breaths. "Yes, princess?" She grins in triumphant and nips at your collar bone. "Shall we all find pleasure this morning?" "I--fuck--yes, yes absolutely." In the transition to the bed there is maybe a single moment at most where Oberyn's hands leave you, and your fingers reach back to wrap around his bare cock to keep you connected. "However you want. However we want."

“Then let me suggest a way we can all reach our peak and your Raeden can still watch.” Oberyn groans, twitching in your hand. “Star, you sit on my cock and Ellaria will press that talented tongue of hers against your clit, while your Raeden plows her from behind.”

The collective moan that Oberyn's suggestion raises from the group of you is pure, sinful music. "I think it would be a shame to waste the momentum," you admit, looking over Ellaria's shoulder to see if Raeden is comfortable with the idea.

You look so good, so sexy. Raeden is already pushing his breeches down and wrapping his hand around his hard cock. “Let me kiss you.” He begs you, wanting a kiss from your lips before the most thrilling fantasy of his life comes true.

"Please, love." He dives for the bed when you reach one hand out, one arm holding Ellaria to you as the other hand wraps around the back of your head to draw you close and deepen that kiss he's aching for. Your body arches toward him and you cannot tell anymore whose hands are where or touching what. It is the most thrilling feeling in the world and the freedom it gives you is somehow monumental and unparalleled.

Oberyn watches in rapture, his cock twitching in your hand and he craves to taste what the other man tastes like but he will not push that boundary until he is asked. Not with Raeden’s past which he confided in him while on the way to talk to his men.

Greedy though Oberyn might call her, Ellaria makes sure she can watch you as you dive into kissing your soulmate. A lover is always slightly different with someone they truly care for and she wants to see your differences. How you express your desire for your soulmate is a different passion than how you express your desire for your husband and she wonders if you express your desire for her in a different way all together.

Oberyn hums, his eyes finding Ellaria fixated on your kiss and he smiles. This will work, he will make it work, he wants it to work. His fingers tap against your clit and he groans at how wet you already are. “Ellaria, her cunt is sweet, I cannot wait to see what you think.”

“I have no doubt,” she purrs, slithering her way up your body to capture Oberyn for a kiss in the meantime. She can be patient when the occasion calls for it — but the moment you are mounting on Oberyn’s cock she will refuse to let you go.

Oberyn groans at the taste of his soulmate and longtime lover. It is a taste he could pick out with his sight blocked. The feel of her etched into his very bones, and yet he is also learning your taste. His tongue slides into her mouth eagerly as the soulmate pairs kiss.

The moment carries an intimacy that is so naked it is startling, and when you eventually nip Raeden's lower lip and pull back from his lips to open your eyes, you smile. "Watch, or join, my love. Whatever you desire. But please share this moment."

“I will join.” Raeden decides, reaching down and wrapping his hand around his cock.

It may be an odd constellation to anyone else in the world, but in that moment you swear comfort washes over you. Surety, even. And you let your fingers trace down the hard line of his jaw with such gentle affection that it feels like a summer breeze has washed through the room. "Thank the gods," you grin at him, feeling the most salacious and even burning with power that you ever have in your life.

“We must hurry, star.” Oberyn reminds you, murmuring in your ear. “We have a queen who cannot be left waiting.”

If it were a perfect morning you would do nothing but this - one hand steadying yourself and the other touching, getting lost on the feeling of hands on skin and mouths everywhere - but of course Oberyn is right. You nearly pout when you turn your head to kiss him, but his eyes being black with lust is now a familiar and welcome sight. And one that makes you grin knowingly. Something wonderful is sure to happen when he looks at you like that. “You are right,” you hum, nipping at his bottom lip and jaw. “But fast can still be satisfying.”

“Fast can be satisfying.” He agrees and pulls his hand away from your clit. “Mount your husband’s cock.” He orders you with a smirk. “Show my lover and yours what your cunt looks like filled with me.”

Two weeks ago it is a sentence you never would have thought possible. Now you are bare before three eager sets of eyes as you position yourself over him - facing Ellaria and Raeden to give them a spectacular view as you slowly sink down on Oberyn’s length. The thickness never takes long to adjust to considering how needy you are by the time you take him, but it still has your eyes rolling back into your head blissfully when your dripping pussy is stuffed full.

“Fuck.” Instead of watching you, he’s watching the other two people in the room. Enjoying the lust and slight envy in both of the gorgeous creature’s eyes. “Isn’t she spectacular. Raeden knows how tight this cunt is. How hot it feels around his cock.”

He does, and he will not deny it - the other man letting out a telling groan that rumbles up from the depths of his chest. It overwhelms a part of him that he has never had a name for - and so he called it lust and tamped it down. But now, overcome with the feeling and reaching for Ellaria to join this hedonistic moment of delirious want, it seems that there is no need to push it away at all.

“Ellaria’s cunt is just as magical, isn’t it?” He hisses, twitching inside you, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts. “Four bastards born and still as tight as the first night I fucked her.”

“Nothing more magical in any of the seven heavens than this.” Raeden groans, savoring the image of pleasure in front of him even as he is pushing Ellaria’s robe aside to run his fingers along the slick apex of her thighs. Just because he has not had the prince for himself yet, does not mean he is not sure of it. Ellaria’s praise has been unwavering.

Oberyn smirks and sends Raeden a wink. "Then it has been a long time since you have had the pleasure of slipping into a tight little ass or had a cock fill yours." He coos, flexing inside you and nipping your ear. "One day."

The whimper that it draws from you ought to be downright shameful but with these people you cannot help but feel desire. “He can have it tonight,” you promise, gasping with the aching pleasure of stretching out in all of your naked glory for these people. “Why should my soulmate not know every part of me?”

"He should." Oberyn hums as he watches Ellaria's eyes flutter closed. "Lover, come lick our princess's cunt, so Raeden can bury his cock inside you. I want to see how you take him. It looks to be a very satisfying cock."

“With pleasure.” Ellaria agrees, greedily filling both of her hands with your hips and lowering her mouth to your cunt to lick a king, hot stripe up the length of Oberyn’s cock and your swollen pussy all at once. His groan is nothing compared to the way you keen in utter delight, surprised at the swift assuredness but utterly drowning in the pleasure of having her talented tongue play you like an old, familiar instrument as Ellaria dedicates herself to eating you alive.

His eyes feasting on a sight that he never thought he would experience, Raeden throbs as he grips his lovers hips. Ellaria's skirts are tossed over her ass, but he doesn't undress her, caressing her slit once more as he shuffles closer. "Gods be fucking praised." He grunts, admiring how the prince stretches you open and his lover's tongue lovingly flicks over your swollen clit. His cock pushes inside the prince's soulmate and he joins into the fray with a greedy moan.

The chorus of moans and wet sounds of flesh on flesh grows quickly. There is nothing shy or subtle about what is happening in this room - in this bed - as Oberyn's hands palm your flesh and pull you down onto his length again and again. Raeden seems to lose himself to the rhythm quickly and effortlessly, and every thrust urges Ellaria more determinedly into your flesh in a different way. She laps at your cunt and sucks your clit, fingers exploring that nub of concentrated pleasure to find what sensations make you whimper and which ones make you scream.

"Fuck." Your husband groans happily, watching enviously as Raeden rocks into his soulmate at a frantic pace. Her moans against your clit are satisfying and wonders if she is moaning because of your taste or his cock. Perhaps both.

Raeden’s eyes move from watching his cock disappear between Ellaria’s swollen lips and watching your husband’s cock plunge deep into your cunt in the same satisfying way. The four of you make the more gorgeous symphony together and he almost hopes someone hears.

Oberyn knows you are close to cumming just from how tight you are gripping his cock. It has been an utter pleasure to watch you buck and squeal and moan every time Ellaria twirled your bundle of nerves around her tongue or sucked it into her mouth. You should always have mouth attached to your cunt and he will mention it when this is over.

Raeden has never heard you quite this unbridled before. It does something unspeakable and nearly uncontrollable to him, a feral edge catching to the way that his hips slam against Ellaria’s flesh with wild abandon. It had been in his head that it would be difficult for him to see you with the prince but it seems to only intensify his desire — an outcome he absolutely had not anticipated.

Ellaria’s moan against your clit is louder, pushed out of her by the forceful thrusts, but she pushes her hips back for more. Dragging her tongue down to bath Oberyn’s thrusting cock and taste the way your flavors mix together.

There has never been a time - even as few encounters as you have had with your husband - that he has not thoroughly satisfied you. This morning seems to be a magnificent combination of many things, though, and you are shaking and so incoherent that even if you were saying each of their names in turn no one would be able to distinguish them. The ecstasy of the moment is too great, and somehow the fact that it is all of you together only makes it more so.

“That’s it, princess.” Oberyn hisses, tangling his fingers into Ellaria’s hair and holding your hip as he fucks up into you with shorter, faster thrusts. Feeling you quiver around him as he starts to chase his own high. While it was permissible to push boundaries, he knows he cannot be too late to the small council’s meeting this morning. “Cum for us.”

Your whole body seems to seize, tightening and bearing down on Oberyn's length. It's such a deeply ingrained physical reaction to reach for the person you are sharing this moment with that one of your hands grasps your husband's on your hip and the other finds Ellaria's shoulder, only for your fingers to find themselves tangled there with Raeden's.

“Fuck, fuck, Stone.” Oberyn hisses. “Fuck her full, fill her up like I am going to fill up this cunt.” He babbles as he feels his body tighten. “Fill her up so I can taste you from her cunt.”

Raeden's familiar, guttural grunts deepen as he climbs closer to his peak, and you watch with hooded eyes when he reaches his hand around Ellaria's waist to bring her own pleasure on with his fingers skating her clit. It is a symphony now, as you start to tumble one after the other, but Oberyn seems determined to see all of you satisfied before he allows himself the same.

Ellaria has her tongue pressed to your sex, but she cannot do much more than moan as Raeden fucks her with a determination that belies all previous sweet interactions. The public setting perhaps allowing him to wish to put on a display. Showing off for you or for Oberyn. Maybe both of you.

She is the next over the edge, moaning as the feeling washes over her and making Raeden curse as she squeezes him tight and spurs his own orgasm in turn. The chain reaction is beautiful to witness, even as your own eyes threaten to roll backward into your head with the force of Oberyn chasing his own end below you.

“Fuck, star, look at them.” He grunts, almost to his own peak as he holds your chin in his hand. “Perfect. And we will do this again, every configuration possible.” He moans, biting down on your shoulder as he starts to cum.

A calm washes over all four of you as you catch your breath. Where your smile might once have been guilty there is only satisfaction and a near surety that if you could, you would simply melt into the bed. "I think our princess might have enjoyed herself," Ellaria observes with a wry grin. "I know I did."

“I did as well.” Oberyn squeezes your hip and rocks his own up once to push his cum out of your cunt. “What say you, Stone? Feeling a bit lighter?”

"Measurably." Raeden's pant breaks with a chuckle. He draws back from Ellaria carefully, letting her skirt fall back into place and running one hand over her exposed skin as surely as his other makes the same journey over yours.

He hates that he has to leave. Wishing to spend all day and discover what ways the four of you can fit together. He kisses your cheek until you turn your head to kiss your lips. “You must clean up for the queen.” He reminds you softly.

"Suddenly I yearn for the luxury of a bath always at the ready," you tease him softly, knowing full well that the availability of a bath at a brothel is always much easier than when a servant must be called to fill the tub.

Oberyn chuckles watching as you move off of him and he sits up to bring his paramour close for a kiss. “She has become used to the luxury of reveling with me, sun.”

“And so quickly.” Ellaria smirks, sinking against him to indulge in their own moment of sweetness while you seem pulled into Raeden’s arms. “That is good. She is learning that you pamper your lovers when it pleases you.”

“It pleases me often.” He reminds her with a tiny pout that is easily kissed away. He has been indulgent as of late, but he often is with his lover.

“Very often.” Her fingers drift over his skin but Ellaria sits up again with a smile. “Now go and attend your meeting. We have work of our own to do.”

Oberyn chuckles, looking very amused and pleased with the outcome of the day. “Go, learn what you can from the widow queen. Poor girl.”

“She would be poorer if she had actually had to stay married to that terror.” Ellaria tuts. “This is surely better for her.” “But perhaps difficult in a different way.” With one more lingering, indulgent kiss for Raeden, you pull away to use the wash basin. “We shall see what we can find out.”

The rest of the time is spent cleaning up and dressing in clothing designed to impress. Once he is situated, Oberyn kisses you and Ellaria before leading Raeden away.

******

Walking to the gardens with Ellaria feels different than the last time you had gone this way. Somehow simultaneously surer of yourself and more nervous, you know that it will be a morning of careful manners and talking around the real issues that confront the keep without King Joffrey. The only thing you can hope is that Queen Margaery is not too distressed by his death - because the whole of court saw her turn to you for comfort when he passed. They would expect to see it again if she is distraught today.

Ellaria keeps a careful watch as the two of you walk, disguising it by holding onto your arm and talking about the surroundings. Hopefully giving you reason to turn towards the thing she wanted to view closer without being too obvious.

The eyes that are on you as you walk together seem heavier today, though you might be imagining it. Perhaps it is because you have arrived to the gardens before the queen and the act of waiting seems to make everything interminable. Ellaria is kind enough to try to distract you, and you appreciate her dearly for it, but end up clasping your hand over hers gently. “Thank you for staying with me,” you murmur, leaning forward to smell the flower she is holding out to you while only barely registering what it is. “I do not think I could do this alone.”

“I believe that you could.” She knows that you could. You are far braver than you credit yourself and that would just improve as your ease with your new role and the power that comes with it settles. “However, I am enjoying any time I get to spend with you.”

“Even if it is not as…eventful as this morning?” Glossing over the compliment, a smile still curls the edges of your lips. This morning was nothing that you expected and yet completely wonderful. You would live in that if you could.

“Pleasure comes in many forms, star.” She smirks at you and turns to take both of your hands in hers. Making sure you hear her use Oberyn’s nickname.

“Somehow I think you may be acquainted with all of them.” It is as intimidating to be under Ellaria’s full gaze and attention as under the prince’s, but you try not to look away. Not now that you have shared such an intimate experience.

“The simple ones are the most cherished.” She promises. “Holding your new daughter in your arms, or tangled with a lover while they sleep.”

“I look forward to finding out.” Perhaps that is something of an understatement, but it does not keep you from glancing down at your own unchanged belly with a dreamy smile. “One day.”

“One day soon.” She predicts with a soft, dreamy smile. “It will be good to hear a babe’s cry in the halls again.”

It feels odd to hope so, after having been afraid of the reality for so long, but you nod and squeeze her hands tightly. A silent thanks for the support. "We should continue on. Not even a princess can keep a queen waiting."

“We should.” She smiles at you before letting your hands drop. “There is more time later.” Her own worries might seep in around the edges of her eyes, but she quickly blinks them away as she turns to guide you further into the garden while keeping the entrance in sight. The queen should arrive at any moment.

She looks every inch the mourning widow when she does - emerging from the keep all in black but no ladies in waiting anywhere to be found. Her solitude seems to be a statement of strength rather than a moment of weakness, though, as the sea of people going about their days parts to let her through. Margaery Tyrell was married to King Joffrey for only a matter of hours, but she is now Margaery Baratheon to her people. It is polite for you to curtsy, after all a queen is technically above a princess in rank, and this is her country not yours. You may have been raised here but the kingdom where others would curtsy to you is far south. Still the gesture is one of manners, and you dip only slightly to show her respect.

“I must confess.” Margaery reaches for your hands and smiles as you stand back up to your full height. “The prospect of meeting with you again today lifted my spirits immensely.”

"I do not know that I fully understand why," you admit with a self-deprecating smile. "But I am glad to hear it."

“Ellaria?” Margaery tilts her head, hoping that she got the paramour’s name correct. “I am glad you could be here as well.”

"It was such an interesting invitation," Ellaria observes, looping her arm delicately through yours as she offers the widowed queen an amused expression. "How could I resist?"

“Indeed.” Margaery sees the intrigue in the older woman’s eyes, aware that she knows why she extended the invitation. “Shall we begin our visit?” She does not demand respect from the woman who doesn’t have any social standing. Instead she directs her question to you both equally.

"Did you wish for something other than a garden walk?" There is an intrigue here that you cannot name, and you must admit that it does entice you. Whatever the queen might want, she wants it of you and Ellaria.

“Conversation.” She promises, although that is not all she wants. She wants to see if Dorne would be a favored ally to Highgarden. Loras is concerned because Tywin has made comments about Cersei and he would make a good match.

“That is easily accomplished.” The beginning of the path is familiar and easy, and without attendants the three of you can speak freely. “The accommodations selected for our party are superb. If you had any hand in it, you have my thanks.”

“I confess I did give the orders to the servants.” Margaery hums. “To aide Queen Cersei since she has been consumed with grief. I loved Joffrey, but I did not push him from my womb.” Her hands tighten on your arm and she manages to look appropriately sad.

"It would have made for an awkward and troublesome marriage if you had," Ellaria observes wryly, and you have to bite your tongue not to smirk.

Margaery hums, amused by the comment, although she is very aware of the rumors about the Baratheon children’s parentage. “What is mourning like in Dorne?” She asks the paramour curiously. “Do you wear black and weep, or vow vengeance?”

"We wear white." Ellaria tells the young queen honestly, noting the way she seems to cling to your other arm. "No one in the heat of Dorne wears all black if they do not desire to be stricken down by the sun. But we weep as anyone else does. A life lost too soon or unjustly will be honored with vengeance, and a life well-lived is honored with story."

“Forgive me.” She shakes her head and smiles sardonically. “I have never borne the heat of Dorne. So I cannot imagine black not being a color used there.” She murmurs. “I have heard that it is breathtaking. The views.”

"It is. Oceans, deserts, forests, and great palaces are beautiful sights to behold. Dorne has all of these." The three of you walk together without encountering another soul, and Ellaria wonders exactly how many servants the queen might have instructed to be elsewhere this morning. "Its beauty is as unique as its people."

“Yes.” Leaping upon the opening the paramour had provided, Margaery begins to dig into the real reason why she had invited you. “There are many interesting people from Dorne. Yourself and your…lover, amongst them.” She flusters prettily and glances towards you. “Is it usually so polite, a mistress and a wife? Or is the prince the deciding factor?”

"I cannot say that I have any idea what is usual, your Grace." You admit, holding the other woman's suddenly bright gaze. "But the prince is a man of great passion, and his love for Ellaria is understandably great." Almost blushing at that admission, you end up glancing to the older woman on your other side with a smile. "I have a great admiration of my own, and a deep respect. Perhaps it is not usual, but it makes for a happy household. So to speak."

“Oberyn’s brother, Prince Doran, does not have a mistress or paramour.” Ellaria informs the queen, wondering if the girl is about to offer herself up to her lover for protection. She has seen far more odd things. “Others might say Oberyn is bullish, needing to have his way. I say that the prince is a man who does not settle.”

"Bullish is unfair," you frown at the description, not liking it at all. "He simply knows what he wants, and takes what he desires. Things that I understood to be virtues in a man - if the description from other men is accurate in any way."

“Men often find value in a show of strength.” She nods, looking between you and your companion. “You are very lucky. Some unions are fated to be unhappy.”

"I am acutely aware of my good fortune." Your free hand covers hers in earnest. "You were the first person outside of my family to speak to me of the prince and you encouraged me to keep my mind and heart open. For that I am deeply grateful."

“I am grateful to the Seven that your future is a bright one.” She smiles as she looks ahead, her brow pinching after a moment. “My own future is very troubling.” She admits, voice barely above a whisper.

"To be widowed so soon is unsettling indeed." Now we come to it, you think, sparing another glance for Ellaria who is watching the queen intently. You take that cue easily and turn your full attention to the younger woman. "No one could have predicted that the king's life would end so young."

“I fear that I am in danger.” She is taking a big risk to admit this to you, unsure of where you loyalties, or Dorne’s truly lie. However, she must trust someone, and you seem to be a refreshing change from the backstabbing cunts in King’s Landing.

"And you want to know if Dorne will stand against King's Landing." Somehow you have a feeling that if Oberyn were here, he would have that terribly satisfied and intrigued expression on his face that says he expected to hear something but is no less interested by it for predicting it. You keep your voice low while the three of you walk, but do not let go of the queen's hand. "Is your danger imminent, your Grace? Have there been threats?"

“Threats do not need to be spoken to be known.” She hums as she pauses to gather her thoughts. You and Ellaria also stop, looking towards her. “My marriage to Jeoffry was not my first.” She reveals quietly. “I married Renly Baratheon, on the battlefield near Storm’s End.” She knows there are rumors, but she wants you to know. “Two marriages, both unconsummated because the king died.”

“I see.” That would cause something of a concern, and especially quite a bit of gossip, amongst the people who knew about it. “That does put you in a rather unique and…if I may say so…undesirable position.”

“As you can imagine.” She is glad you understand the predicament that she finds herself in. “I am unsure if a third marriage will be fortuitous to the crown.”

“But a third marriage is being spoken of?” The prince had predicted that House Baratheon - such as they are - would expect the widowed queen to marry King Tommen even at his young age. Knowing now that Queen Margaery has had not one but two I’ll-fated marriages makes you wish for her sake that it was not true.

“I—” she presses a hand to her stomach to settle the queasiness of the moment. “Will be expected to marry Tommen when the mourning for Joffrey is done.”

“I see.” Murmured a little deeper this time, you and Ellaria exchange a look of concern but the prince’s lover — your lover since this morning — obviously intends for this to be your decision. She gives you a nod of encouragement and you have to admit it does bolster you a bit. “And this is not a match that you feel is well-made, I take it?” You ask the queen, careful to keep your voice quiet just in case you are not as alone as you think.

“It is no secret that the queen does not care for me.” Her eyes are furtive as she looks around. “She will try to keep as much power as she can grasp, and Tommen is the youngest of her brood.”

“There are some people of power who seek to keep their enemies close by. They think a watchful eye sees all, but it also makes them paranoid.” Your mother is one of these sort, and you cannot claim to miss her behaviour in any way.

“My grandmother has always had a fondness for Dorne.” She changes the direction of the conversation slightly. “Admires the ability to say what is meant without pretense or subterfuge.”

“Then speak plainly.” After all, it will do you a world of good not to have to attempt to interpret why the queen might mean. And the plainer she is, the more you hope to be able to assess what may be asked of you.

Margaery pauses, gathering her courage and finally speaking. “If it comes time for me to leave King’s Landing, would Dorne harbor me?” She asks softly, eyes searching yours and Ellaria’s as she stops and turns towards you. “My father and grandmother are already at risk, but I do not wish them any more trouble if they attempt to sneak me out of the city.”

It is not an easy question and all three of you know it. There are many immense layers of politics and consideration to be thought on. There are complications and intricacies to navigate. But you also know that, like growing up banded together with your brothers against the formidable fury of your mother, sometimes the mere existence of an ally is enough to bolster a person through a fight. “I do not see why…in a time of great turmoil…” you begin carefully, letting your eyes look around without being conspicuous. “That you should not seek respite with your dear friend the Princess of Dorne. For however long you should choose to stay. After all…” your mind rolls back, tucking through knowledge the best way you know how. Having a habit of reading and collecting information may do you a world of good in some ways. “After all, are we not relations of a sort? My brother Corwen married a girl of House Tyrell just some two years ago.” It was not something you had ever paid attention to before, not having any stake in the blood ties of her brother's wives, but now it seems imperative that the knowledge be at your fingertips. “Who could not understand a desire to find kinship in friends who have been united such as we are?”

There is a spark of hope, of understanding in the other woman’s eyes and she quickly nods. “A dear relationship I hope to foster.” She agrees, squeezing your hand. “I do not wish to impose on you unless necessary.” She promises.

The prince predicted a part of this conversation, and the light in Ellaria’s eye says he would approve of your decision, but you will be uneasy until tonight when you can speak to him about it directly. For now, you press Margaery’s hands tightly and nod. “I will expect letters from you, then,” you tell her as casually as you can manage. Letters will keep up the pretense that you are enjoying your blood ties and becoming friends - when allies would likely be a more proper term. “How fortuitous that we should find each other when our fortunes have found as both as wives of royalty.”

“Isn’t it?” She beams and there are tears of relief in her bright blue eyes. Despite Olenna’s reassurances, she has been worried about not being able to get far enough away to protect her grandmother. Especially with the circumstances surrounding her life right now.

Turning to continue to follow the path in front of you, you keep hold of Margaery’s hand and slip your arm around Ellaria’s so that the three of you can walk together. “We should know more of each other,” you remind her. If you are to uphold this pretense, you cannot be strangers to each other.

“We should.” She agrees. “What do you want to know about me?”

“Simple things and secret things.” This meeting seems conspiratorial now, but it cannot be helped. Things are in motion that not even a woman as strong as Ellaria could stop. “For instance, you know I love to read. But few people know how much I have loved pressing flowers in my volumes. The books I read as a young girl were littered with buds.”

“Highgarden has some of the most beautiful flowers that you could imagine.” Margaery tells you and Ellaria. “I used to sit in the gardens and pretend that I tended flowers and that if the blooms continues to bud for me, I would never die.”

“Your childhood was lonely?” Ellaria asks, prompting the youngest of the three women to continue divulging morsels of information. Small things that you can collect to put together a larger picture. “I thought you had a brother?”

“Loras was sent off to be fostered when we were five and seven.” She murmurs quietly. “I did not spend much time with him.”

“That is a pity.” Ellaria murmurs. Though it happens so often in noble families that it is a wonder anyone even knows their own kin. “Siblings are a great treasure.”

“I would never separate my own children.” She admits quietly, shaking her head. “It is barbaric to me.”

“I hope that when you are blessed with children one day, they will have the happiest of childhoods.” It is certainly not an easy thing for noble children to experience and you both know it.

“Yes.” She nods, giving you a sad smile as if she is aware of how rare that is. “I admire you, Ellaria.” She announces, looking over at the older woman. “You have chosen to stand by your lover despite his marriage and it seems as if you and the Princess have no quarrel.”

"Why should we quarrel?" Ellaria smiles at you fondly, the memory of your moans still ringing in her ears and your taste still on her tongue. "There is room enough for more than only two in Prince Oberyn's bed as well as his heart. I have no desire to be a wife or a princess. Whereas our dear Star seems born to both tasks. Should I be jealous that she will bear his heirs? That would be a fruitless anger when I have birthed four of his daughters myself."

The young queen tilts her head, impressed with the viewpoint and decides to reveal the secret that could have her reputation ruined. “Loras spoke of Oberyn with much disappointment.” She reveals. “When Joffrey— the day of our wedding, it seems he was expecting to join you in that bed.”

The Dornish beauty smiles, amusement playing on her features as she exchanges a glance with you. That night was not such a happy one in your complicated relationships but all is well now. "Oberyn was equally disappointed," Ellaria assures her. "I am sure any visit your brother might wish to pay to the prince's bed will be deeply rewarding."

“Then I feel that I am safe to confess this.” Margaery looks around again, making sure you are alone in the gardens. “Renly— Loras and I were going to…share his affections.”

"You have chosen to confide in two of the only women in King's Landing who will not find that statement terribly shocking." You squeeze her hand gently to reassure her in your own way and end up smiling unconsciously for a moment. "I do not know how things are in Highgarden, but in the Vale such things were never spoken of. I have recently discovered that it helps no one to mask desire."

Her mouth opens in surprise and her eyes dart between the two of you, “do you mean…” She cuts off her comment and presses her lips together, obviously eager for clarification but her manners would never allow such an intrusive question.

"I mean that speaking freely of my desires has been a weight lifted from my shoulders." You tell her quietly. Acting on them is a whole other breed of personal freedom but you will not suggest that so quickly. "To say it delicately, embracing the open mind of the Dornish people has been a boon for me."

“I see.” She nods quickly and smiles at the two of you. “Well, it is refreshing to have likeminded people to converse with.”

“The difficulty is in knowing who one can converse with,” you admit, knowing full well that you had not even trusted your soulmate not to judge or castigate you. Now that that barrier has been broken you feel positively bold. “I hope that you can feel confident to speak of passions with us. The things that bring happiness should not have to be taboo.”

“I thank you for your gracious kindness.” She is relieved and bites her lip. “I feel that things will get much worse here and I cannot ask my father to intercede.” Mace Tyrell was in a precarious position and she knows it.

“Fathers are not as infallible in adulthood as we imagine them to be when we are children.” The unfortunate truth of which you have seen with your own eyes. It is only lucky that your mother miscalculated her tactics so drastically. “I think we women must work to keep each other safe when we are able.”

“Yes.” She nods and looks towards Ellaria and then back at you. “Thank you, my burdens seem much lighter.” There is more that she would wish to ask of you both, of Dorne, but for now it is enough to know that she might rely on you if she needs.

“They will never disappear,” Ellaria hums, with a wisdom that seems almost foreboding though she does not mean it to be. “Only change. It will be good to have some hearts close to yours on which to rely.”

“Is it wrong of me to wish that I was not going to be forced to marry Tommen?” She asks, her blue eyes wide and worried. “He is a child. A boy.”

“A boy half your age with little knowledge of the world and no concept at all of what being king will truly mean.” Ellaria shakes her head when she sighs. “It is unfair to both of you, as far as I can see.”

Sheer relief washes over her face, as if she had been the outlier in the argument against marrying a child just because he was king. Joffrey was bad enough.

“Is there really nothing to be done about it?” You have to be cautious asking a question like that, but some small semblance of trust has been forged here this morning. If it came back to reflect poorly you could feign ignorance of royal intricacies. After all - you are only just out of the Vale.

“Not unless I can be found undesirable.” She shakes her head slowly, again, wanting to say something more but she doesn’t dare. It’s too bold, too presumptuous.

“Which would ruin you for any other match.” It is a fact you are all too aware of.

“Especially a royal match.” You are clever, very clever and she hums in agreement.

“Yes,” you glance at her, barely from your side eye, and match her thoughtful hum. “That would be a terrible shame.”

“Yes.” She murmurs quietly. “A shame.” She turns and prompt the two of you to continue walking, strolling along as if it were any normal conversation, “your servants, how are they adjusting to the keep?”

“Well, thus far.” Cal and Leyth seemed more than pleased to have good food and a comfortable place to sleep, and so far you had heard nothing but happiness from them. “Apart from learning their way around, they seem to be adjusting quickly.”

"That is good." She continues on another few steps before she proceeds with her thoughts. "I have heard a rumor that the servants were acquired since the prince has been in Dorne." She ventures. "May I ask where?"

Ellaria chuckles, the sound low in her throat, and she tilts her head in amusement. “At the brothel,” she tells Margaery easily. “Their freedom was purchased from Littlefinger.”

"I see." Margaery had known that piece of information before she ever asked the question, having to hear Cersei seethe about the whores that Oberyn had disgraced the Keep with. "I take it that you…indulge with them?"

“Occasionally.” Of course some would have a problem with it, but Ellaria cannot bring herself to care. “They are not required to lie with us, if that is what you are asking.”

"No, that is not...I don't seem to know how to ask." She shakes her head, frustrated at herself and simple smiles. "Obviously it was not a good question, as my septa would tell me often."

“You can be blunt,” you offer, wondering if it is manners being in her way. That is so often the case for you. “If that will help you.”

"If I asked your man servant to sleep with me, to be caught sleeping with me, would he be allowed to say yes?" The plan is rashly formed and slightly desperate, but she doesn't know of any other way save for becoming pregnant to ruin her chances of marrying Tommen. The downside is that she would be ruining herself from any other matches as well. "Or would that not work?"

“Margaery, you would be ruined!” Even hissed under your breath, you can feel your eyes widen as you reach for the queen’s arm in surprise. “You would be shunned! Or worse, imprisoned.”

"It is better than marrying a child!" She shoots back, knowing that it sounds insane, but it is better than a life tied to the golden haired bitch of a queen that is her mother-in-law.

“That…” You sigh. “Is true.” And besides which it is her own decision to make. You are not her keeper, though you are trying to be her friend. “If…if that is what you wished to do…Cal would be the one to ask. Not us. He makes his own mind.” Though you are not sure what Oberyn would say.

"I would ask your husband, but I do not think that would be appropriate in the company of his lover and his wife." She jokes, trying to make light of the serious situation.

For a moment you actually pause, before you and Ellaria look at each other and end up exchanging a wordless glance. “It would be up to him, too,” you tell Margaery honestly. “He is free to take any lover he wishes.”

"He might take any lover he wishes, but you might have a bad taste for my company." She reminds you. "I am not his longtime lover." Her eyes slide over towards Ellaria. "I have always assumed you are soulmates."

“We are.” Ellaria acknowledges proudly. “But that does not mean I make his decisions for him.”

“But—” she tilts her head. “Be honest. Would you be upset if he were to bed me?”

“I—” The question is more perplexing for you than it is for Ellaria, who is able to honestly answer that it would not right away. For you, the question requires thought. “I would ask that you be respectful of the fact that I may already be carrying his heir. That is all.”

Her eyes widen slightly and a genuine smile crosses her face. “You are happy with it.” She deduces and squeezes your hand. “May the Seven make it so.”

“Very happy.” And as amazing as that still is to you, you are not one to squander it. “And he may sire many more bastards before age catches him, but I would hate for this child to be contested.”

“It will not.” Margaery promises you, shaking her head adamantly. “I can promise you that. I will think of something else.”

“Perhaps…” The wheels in your mind turn quickly, that wit that Raeden and Oberyn both claim to witness stirring thoughts into motion. “The answer is simply to lie with him…without the act? That is…to be witnessed in his bed but without having given up your maidenhood?”

“That….is not a problem.” She assures you, aware that she had lost it long ago. “But I don’t see why he should touch me if he does not have to.” It will work, no one in the Seven Kingdoms would believe that Oberyn Martell would be in her bed without sleeping with her.

“I am sure he will touch,” Ellaria chuckles knowingly. “But not more than you allow.”

Margaery laughs and nods. “I’m sure that he might.” She turns and stares at both of you earnestly. “Are you sure? I wish to be free of this, but I do not wish to put your man in danger. Cersei could have him killed if I was discovered with a servant.”

“A queen may kill a servant as she pleases.” Ellaria reminds Margaery with a nod that says she understands the situation full well. “But if Prince Oberyn of Dorne seduces anyone, he will live to tell the tale regardless.”

“Exactly.” She knows what will happen. She’s heard the rumors that Cersei had Ned Stark beheaded because of what he knew, or discovered.

“For now you must continue to mourn.” For a plan - any plan - to have success, it must be kept a vital secret until such time as it is put into motion. “We will speak of it again. And with Oberyn.”

“Thank you.” She knows that it’s a dangerous game to play, but she has been thrown into a pit of snakes and who better to help her free herself than the Red Viper himself?

******

Deciding to go straight back to your rooms after leaving Margaery inside the heart of the keep, you are fully relieved to see Oberyn and Raeden reclining under the windows when you and Ellari step through the door arm in arm.

“I see your walk with the widowed queen was informative.” Oberyn observes before he takes another sip of his wine. He and Raeden were talking plainly about his desires and it was not going to be too long before he joined the prince in his bed with you.

“It was eye opening.” Though you go to Oberyn to kiss him first, you settle down against Raeden’s side on the plush bench and lean into his side. 

“It was interesting,” Ellaria agrees. “And it is good that you are here. We must speak with you about it.”Oberyn frowns slightly and stands, handing you his cup of wine to move Ellaria off to the side to speak with her privately. “My sun, we do need to talk.” He murmurs with a sigh.

“What about?” She frowns when he moves her away from you and Raeden.

“Something has changed.” He insists, reaching up to rub her shoulder softly. “Tell me what is wrong so it can be fixed.”

“Nothing is wrong, my love.” Instantly Ellaria is acting as nonchalant as ever, brushing off his concern as though it is nothing. What has been happening - what has happened - cannot be undone and so there is no use dwelling in it. “Your princess and I bring you interesting news.”

He frowns, willing to push the issues with her, but she turned and glides back towards you and Raeden. “What news is this?” He huffs.

“The widowed queen has a proposition for the most legendary lover in the seven kingdoms.” You tell him, tucked neatly into Raeden’s side. “She wishes to be free of the Lannisters and thinks you might be the one to help her.”

“Killing them all?” Oberyn chuckles to himself, aware that it was not possible, even as much as he might wish for it. Besides Tyrion, he seems to be a noble sort of man, despite who his sire is.

“Slightly less…destructive.” Though you know the reason for his hatred, this is not quite the place for a violent tone. “She would prefer you ruin her reputation so that she will not be forced to marry Tommen Baratheon.”

His brow wings up and it is rare to find the prince speechless, but he has no words for a long moment. “And how would she propose I do that?” He asks, looking between you and Ellaria.

“We thought that it would do well for someone to witness you in bed together.” It was a topic of quiet but intense discussion as your walk ended, but now saying it out loud to him has you feeling near foolish. “The exact circumstances were not yet determined.”

Oberyn tilts his head and gazes at his two female lovers in amusement. “They intend to borrow my cock out.” He huffs to Raeden before shaking his head and chuckling. “It would work. She would be soiled and unfit to marry a king, and I get to smugly laugh in Cersei’s face.

“She asked if Dorne would provide her shelter.” The fact that Oberyn does not seem disturbed by the idea is a great relief. “I believe she truly wants a way out of all of this.”

“She sees her head on a chopping block.” Oberyn agrees, still unsettled by the way Ellaria brushed him off, but he doesn’t show it. Instead he sits back down next to Raeden and pats his thigh for her to sit down.

“She fears it.” Smooth as silk, Ellaria glides to his lap and lights there, gathering her skirts around her instead of letting them fall where they may. “And that fear has made her bold.”

“Sometimes boldness is needed.” Oberyn muses, sliding his hand over his lover’s knee and starting to move up her thigh.

“It seems to be.” She agrees, adjusting slightly in his lap and crossing her legs so that his hand must change paths. “She is right not to trust the Lannisters.”

“Hmmmm.” Oberyn doesn’t say anything, just watches his lover carefully. The suspicions starting to form, even if he knows his lover is loyal to him.

“We told her we would speak to you.” You glance between Oberyn and Ellaria with confusion. Something feels different this afternoon and you do not much care for the shift in the air. “But that the decision is yours.”

“I see no problem causing a scandal that will annoy the Lannisters as much as it will amuse me.” He looks over to Raeden and there is the small idea that takes root. “Tell the girl to let me know when I should present my cock for her use and I will make it happen.”

“It is not her intention to get a child by you,” you point out to your husband, laughing slightly at his seeming enthusiasm for the plan. “But I will make sure that she knows it.”

“Oh I have no intention of touching the girl.” He clarifies, winking at you. “The simple sight of my presence in her bed will be enough. I can only hope that bitch Cersei is the one to walk in.”

“I think that would amuse you greatly.” There is no question of it, and you shake your head at him as you sit tangled in Raeden’s arms. “It would seem, then, that we intend to align ourselves with Margaery Tyrell.”

“Her father might be an idiot, but her grandmother is not.” He is speaking to all of you but especially Raeden as an emerging lord. “And her older brother is no fool. Making an alliance with the Tyrells is a good thing.”

“Loras would like to pay you a visit, lover,” Ellaria informs with a pleased smirk. “The opportunity will not be missed after all.”

Oberyn tilts his head and easily dismisses the idea. The fickleness of his temperament could sometimes surprise those that do not know him, but Oberyn has no attachment to those he does not care for. He had been interested in fucking the pretty faced knight before, but the intrigues of those around him now far exceed those of Loras Tyrell. “Perhaps,” is all he says.

There is a tension in the air - an unquiet you had not expected - and you twist your fingers around Raeden’s in a show of anxiety as you look at your husband. “If you do not plan to touch her…or even her brother…what exactly is your plan?”

Oberyn looks over at you with a small smirk, reaching out to take the goblet from to you take another sip of wine before offering it back. “I have a well-earned…reputation.” He reminds you. “No one would ever believe that I did not fuck the widow queen, take her purity, though I am sure she has long since lost that.”

“You will simply be found in a bed with her, and Cersei will assume the worst.” Raeden almost laughs out loud at the simplicity of the idea. It is so straightforward that no one would ever think the legendarily clever and seductive Red Viper would even think it a scheme. “It is…genius in its guilelessness.”

Oberyn chuckles and nods. “I thought so, and I am sure that my soulmate and my wife would appreciate knowing that whatever babe Margaery Tyrell carries down the road is not of my seed.” His fingers caress your knee where it is thrown over Raeden’s thigh. “Especially since we are working on producing my legitimate heir.”

“It could already have happened and we would not know,” you remind him, letting an excited smile turn your lips up. “My brothers’ wives did not show signs for months.”

“We will make sure until it is obvious to the world.” He promises, winking at you with a smug smirk.

“I have no doubt.” Ellaria murmurs, her eyes moving between the other three of you in the couch in ever-vigilant restlessness. Even when her body at rest, her mind never wavers.

“Do you want another babe?” His finger catches her jaw and he pulls her face towards his gently. Despite his displeasure at her keeping something important from him, he wants to make sure she is happy. “I can give you one.” He promises, pressing his lips to hers. “Or maybe Ser Raeden’s child will fill your belly first. Would you like that, sun?”

“Our prince is excited to be a father again.” Ellaria muses, still seated in his lap but mostly smiling at you. “If you wish for two babes at once, lover, I am sure you could manage it.”

His hand slides over Ellaria’s womb and he hums, leaning in to kiss her neck behind her hair and he pauses for a moment before kissing the spot again to trail kisses down your neck.

“Would that please you?” The request had been put to Margaery not to bear Oberyn’s child at the same time as you, but Ellaria? You would never interfere with their intimacy.

“That is up to my sun.” He looks towards the soulmate that is perched on his lap. “My love?” He kisses her and his dark eyes flash with something, a knowledge that he possesses information that he shouldn’t.

“I would be overjoyed to carry another child.” There is an edge to it, as though her eagerness is a mask, but Ellaria kisses Oberyn soundly before leaning over to give Raeden the same. “I could always cease my tea along with the princess and we will find out the father when the babe is born.”

“Cease your tea if you wish it, my love.” Oberyn smirks back at his lover, aware of the game she plays. “It has been too long since a babe’s cries echo in our halls.”

You felt, until the subject had been pushed, a little like watching a game of bats - with Oberyn and Ellaria bandying a ball between them. But to hear him so encourage her to carrying another bastard stings unexpectedly. Was it not your potential child that he was so excited for only this morning? The worry has you deflating a little and wishing you could be far from the room.

Ellaria hums and stands. “Perhaps we should not make such decisions while we are in this place.” She decides and moves over to the table to pour herself a large goblet of wine. “It is an unhappy place with distasteful memories.”

A tense quiet is worse than anger sometimes, and the way Oberyn seems to fume at that has you jumping up from your place beside him to retreat. “I think I should lie down,” you say to no one in particular, already halfway to your bedroom door.

“I will join you.” Oberyn stands with less grace and more force than normal and sets his goblet down. He doesn’t say another word, just walks past his lover to the bedroom you’ve disappeared into.

“Was your meeting tiring?” Now, instead of escape, the cliff of tension has followed Oberyn into your chamber.

“Doddering fools afraid of offending.” Oberyn snorts and starts to disrobe. He knows that you were escaping the mood of the room and he sighs softly. “The trial, such as it is, will be next week.”

“So we have at least a few more weeks here.” Undressing yourself is difficult but you manage to unlace your top layer and start to work at your stays to lay down just in your chemise.

“Were you cold, Star?” Oberyn strides over to you and drops a kiss on your shoulder. His arms slide around you, “do you need to be kept warm in this cold keep?”

“If you wish it.” His praise and excitement for the prospect of another child by Ellaria is not something you should be jealous of - you know that - but somehow you cannot help it. Oberyn is one of those rare god-like men that seems to shine the entire universe on you when you have his attention and to feel it taken away stings more than you are proud of.

He senses the shift in attitude and he does not care for it. Turning you around slowly, he cups your chin and lifts it until your eyes meet his. “Speak plainly, my stars and moon.” He tells you. “You are angry and I do not like that for my Princess.”

“Not angry.” Though, with his encouragement, you do meet his eyes. “If I asked you whether you were excited simply for another chance at fatherhood or particularly for your wife to bear you a child — that would be jealousy. And I know I have no reason to be jealous.” Swallowing a sigh, you look down again and shrug inelegantly. “I cannot help but wonder, that is all.”

He fans his hand over your cheek and chuckles softly. Perhaps enjoying the moment of satisfaction in knowing that you are attached enough to be jealous more than he should. “My lover is keeping something from me.” He tells you in confidence. “I merely brought up the suggestion to see what her response would be. I wish to see my Princess carry my child because I want to hold a piece of us combined. To raise her with the freedoms you wished for.”

“Truly?” For now you will ignore his conviction that the child will be a girl and try to convince yourself that it does not matter because the child will never inherit anything but a title and property. The importance of this moment is for you and your husband, not yet for the unborn babe. “You are…I admit that you are very dear to me…and for a moment I did worry that the affection was one sided.”

His brows pull down in disbelief and he gives you a look that questions your sanity. “Do you believe that I give pet names to everyone I fuck?”

“How am I to know?” The question makes you feel far more than a little foolish, and you look down at your feet. “We have known each other a mere week. That is more than enough time to form an attachment, apparently, but I know it is not enough to know someone’s mind.”

“I do not.” He informs you, slightly disappointed that you do not seem to understand that you basically know him.

“Does it matter if I say that I hoped it meant something?” The depths of your affection for him have become alarming, and something you struggle with, but for all you knew Oberyn’s outward affections we’re all for show. After all, you are both capable of separating lust from something deeper.

“You are very sweet.” Oberyn is reminding himself of that fact, as well as tell you that it’s okay. “Your hopes do matter, star.”

“Forgive me for having trouble remembering that.” You swallow a sigh. “Only Raeden ever cared for them before.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” He sighs softly and pulls you against his chest. “Do you wish to rest, Star?”

“I do.” It may have been an excuse to get away, but you are weary. The exertions of the day were more than you expected. “Is that alright?”

“Then we will lay down.” Oberyn pulls your shift over your head and tosses it down before he leads you over to the bed.

“Will we actually sleep?” You tease him, if only gently, as you lay down together.

“Of course we will sleep.” As if to prove it, Oberyn rolls you onto your side, he’s already learned you prefer your left and curls around you. His arm tucks up under your body and he shoves his other under the pillow. “Sleep is what my Princess needs, so sleep is what she will get.”

“Perhaps we will share dreams.” Once you had read a tale of lovers who spoke to each other in their dreams and thought it was wonderfully romantic. The thought of sharing such an intimacy with Oberyn is a sweet one.

“Hmmm.” He hums and tucks his face against your neck. “Would you like that?” He asks softly.

“I would.” His breath on your skin is warm and comforting, and you close your eyes to enjoy it more completely. “It would be…romantic,” you admit quietly.

“Romantic.” Oberyn’s arm tightens around you. “Yes it would. Sleep princess and we will see if we dream together.”

******

It is hard not to dream of him, lying in his arms like this, and you drift through a fantasy of happy years surrounded by many children of all ages - reading to them and playing with them. Watching them splash in the water and grow little by little. By the time you wake you have buried backward into his arms and curled against him completely.

Oberyn hasn’t slept, his mind was whirling and mulling over things as he held you. Enjoying the soft sounds of your breathing, he slowly kisses along your neck.

“Mmm…” The warm press of his lips is familiar and welcome as you stir in his arms. As your dreams fade they are replaced with such a gentle reality that you do not mind at all.

“Are you awake or just enjoying your dreams?” He whispers against your skin. He has enjoyed your body in his arms, his cock stirring and pressed against your ass, but he had not presumed you enjoyed being woken up impaled on him.

“Waking is almost as good as my dreams,” you hum, sighing contentedly as your eyes crack open.

“What did you dream about?” He asks curiously.

Still only half-awake, the honest answer slips far too easily from your lips: “Our family,” you tell him, too concentrated on the feel of his lips and fingers trailing over your skin. “Your older children playing with the babes. All of us happy.”

“I feel that could be true.” He admits. “My Sand Snakes love babies and children. They will be fiercely protective over all your children, mine or sired by your soulmate.”

“The idea is much more dear to me than I expected.” Nuzzling against his arm as it wraps around your chest, you ignore the stirring in your heart that might otherwise have moved your words, and simply sigh. “It will be a beautiful family, whatever it looks like.”

“Family is always beautiful, Star. Especially when you love each other. They are supposed to be your shelter in a storm.” He hums.

Ignoring the word he chose with all your might, you hum softly again and kiss his skin, wondering why you must feel so intensely for him and for Raeden both. Was not your life already complicated enough? Were you not already struggling with your place in this odd marriage? Sometimes it is truly too much to put your mind around — which is why you choose to shut your mind off in this moment and simply enjoy him. Bask in the glow of being near him and nothing more. Nothing more.

He can practically hear the gears in your mind turning. Wondering what you can possibly say to that. “Do you want to go back out with the others?”

“I want to stay with you a little longer,” you murmur, hating the earnestness of your own tone. You feel safe with Oberyn in a different way than you do with Raeden, and right now you are craving that feeling more than anything else. The feeling that you get from being right here - in his arms and in his bed. “Is that alright?”

“You can stay with me as long as you wish.” Oberyn promises. “You never have to ask if you can stay, although you aren’t required to stay.” He hopes you understand what he is telling you.

“I know you won’t force me.” Another kiss to his skin is sweet and soft, almost lazy in the afternoon sunlight that streams through the windows. “But I like being with you.”

He chuckles quietly and his hand slides down your spine. “I find that I like being with you.” He admits. “I wish I was present to see your face when talking with the queen.”

“I think I was quite bold.” You turn to your side to see his face and flash him a cheeky grin. “There is a chance you might have been proud of your wife this morning.”

“Yes?” He lifts up onto his arm, propping his head up and grinning at you. “Tell me.” He demands, enjoying the sparkle in your eyes.

“We spoke openly of desire and I did not shy away.” For you, that is nearly extraordinary. And he is very aware of the fact. “I did not even defer to Ellaria too often. It seems as a small victory, but I consider it quite the feat.”

“It is a feat.” He agrees, admiring your proud smirk as you explain. His hard cock twitches in lust at your face, imagining his star starting to shine.

Proud though you might be, you are certainly not oblivious. Not to the very distinct feeling of his length pulsing against your thigh. "You are pleased," you tease, grinning a little more broadly.

“Confidence is sexy.” He tells you, reaching out and cupping your chin to lean in and kiss your lips.

Any argument you could have to the contrary is swept away immediately, too entranced by the press of his lips against yours to think of anything besides having him pressed against you. The warm afternoon sun caresses your skin even before he does, but the sensation is so similar.

Oberyn keeps the touch light, sliding his hand down your shoulder and under your breast. Not cupping the flesh but traveling further south so he can caress your womb and then slowly tangle his fingers into the curls above your cunt as he continues to kiss you.

Your breaths turn shallower and your body seems lighter than air, and you whimper at the first graze of his fingertips over your clit. The gentle touch is enough to entice you and make your body ache for him, but barely enough to register the pleasure of having him touch you.

“What was that, star?” Oberyn is in a playful, surprisingly soft mood and he doesn’t immediately roll you over to spread your thighs. Instead he continues the light touch. “Did you say something?”

“Teasing me,” you manage to breathe out, mewling quietly at the delicate touches.

“Not teasing you, Star.” He rasps, smirking slightly. “Caressing you. Touching you.”

It has not been many days that you have been with him, We’ve this side of him as a lover is new to you. This gentle, playful side of him feels like a new bloom opening on the grand tree of your marriage. “I understand why no one is ever fully dressed around you if they can help it,” you muse with a giggle.

“Clothing is one of the great evils of the world.” He jokes, smirking as he starts to ghost kisses along your skin. “Everyone should always be naked and enjoying someone’s touch.”

“I think I should live just like this for a little while longer,” you decide with a luxurious sigh. His hands are divine. Gifts from the Gods, and what mortal foolishness would it be to deny them?

“Just like this?” His fingers continue their slow, unbothered journey around your clit. “Or perhaps you could handle a little more?”

“Oh, I certainly can.” One of your hands lies sedately between you, and your fingers brush along the inside of his thigh before wrapping lazily around the base of his cock. “We can stay just like this.”

“Just like this?” He asks again with a smirk. “Or with my cock inside that perfect cunt?”

“Oberyn—” It is worshipful, the way you whimper for him, but that breathlessness comes so easily when you are together. Your hand steadily pumps the length of his cock, adding that twist of your wrist that he likes each time. “Fill me? Please?”

“Your wish is my command, Princess.” He groans, moving so he can shuffle closer as you lift your leg onto his hip.

This position feels deeply intimate even without even looking at him - as though he could simply slip inside you while you are sleeping and wake up to him fucking you. The thought never would have crossed your mind before but now - as he splits you open and cradles you close - you know you’ll be dreaming about it for weeks.

Oberyn still doesn’t roll you over or try to gain any sort of leverage to thrust harder. Keeping his hips rocking shallowly, his lips continue their path over your skin as he worships you in the most basic way.

Your hands clutch the arm he has around you, using it to keep you close to him as he rocks in and out of you at a pace that is as undemanding as it is luxurious. There is nothing in the world but you and him and the feeling of your bodies moving together. Shallow breaths and panted moans fill the air, and the feeling of being wrapped up in his is divine.

“I don’t fuck like this often.” Oberyn admits softly, nudging his nose against yours. “Ellaria.” He kisses your lips tenderly. “And now you.”

With your back to his chest and your head twisted around to take whatever kisses he is willing to give you, the tension in your body builds slowly but steadily. Even shallow strokes make you feel full of him and your chest heaves against his arm with every backward rocking motion of your hips.

It’s not for anything other than the feeling of closeness and pleasure. Closer to making love than anything else, Oberyn groans words of praise into your ear. There is beauty in this moment, simplicity in the two of you moving together. Nothing outside of it exists, not even the two soulmates that are beyond the doors. Ones that Oberyn has deduced are hiding something from the two of you.

My Masterlist!

[mysafehaneul]

I.AQUAMARINE

JEON WONWOO X READER

WORDS: 4.5K

GENRE: ARRANGE CONTRACT MARRIAGE AU! ENEMIES TO LOVERS!

ANGST, (obviously lol), Fluff, Smut (in future chapters not this one).

I wrote a timestamp sometime around three years ago and said if this gets good responses then I'll turn it into a series, Now a few of you showed your interest in it and I feel like writing again, it will not be perfect but I will try to do justice to all the characters, the story, and the time and effort you guys put in reading and liking, please do leave comments, and Do not refrain from giving your suggestion as it will only help me improve without any further ado lets start with the first chapter! <3

PSA: You don't have to read the Timestamp to read this as it has a different plot route from it but still, the essence is the same.

This is my original work for free comsumption because fuck capitalism but please do not steal it. All characters are orginal except The members of Seventeen, I do not own them. This is purely a work of fiction with no similarity with real life whatsoever, If any incident feel familiar, That is purely a coincedence. Happy Reading!

Chapter 1: The Unforeseen Circumstance

2 years ago

Y/N paced the ornate living room of your aunt's bohemian-style house in Switzerland, her thoughts as tumultuous as the storm that raged outside.

'This is not good' Like a loop going in your head.

Your hands were sweating and your heart was pounding like how fire blazes right before it was about to be extinguished. You never liked hospitals and in all truth, you'd rather be anywhere but there. Noella's face her lovely blue eyes and blonde locks, her whimsical laughter that could enchant anyone, your memories with her flash in and out before your eyes making your heart sink further in anguish what would become of...

The pounding at the door stopped your chain of thought, rushing towards the door you almost ran into the mahogany footrest by the couch. You took a deep breath an unfruitful effort to calm the nerves, wrapping your fingers around the cold metal knob as the red and blue light filtered through the window and the words of your father echoing in your heart.

'Remember darling always hope for the best, prepare for the worst

you swing the door open and your eyes already burning, when one of the two officers starts to speak,

''Are you Y/N L/N....''

.

Y/N

Y/N...

Present Day

"Y/n wake up, darling you have been sleeping since yesterday afternoon your father and I are waiting for you to join us for breakfast, it is not like your first flight back from Switzerland''

Your eyes flashed open, and the air filled your lungs you didn't even realize for how long you'd been holding it in your sleep. The cold sweat on your forehead drying making a shiver run down your spine, one by one your senses activated taking in your surrounding, Serenity Villa, your childhood home every wall bearing witness to the life and memories you have lived and made the laughter, cries, and affection. Affection, that gentle breeze that stirs the depths of our being, is the golden thread that weaves our connections, tender and unspoken. It's the warmth that paints the world in hues of understanding, where each glance, each touch, becomes a symphony of whispered emotions—an intangible treasure that enriches the tapestry of our lives, reminding us that in its embrace, we find a sanctuary of belonging and love.

The same kind of love that you felt blooming in your heart when you first looked into his eyes when he sat across from you and Noella on the first day of your second semester in the business psychology course. Pushing down the wave of nostalgia that rose from the depths of your memory, you took a deep breath and pushed off the blankets off your body the scrunched-up satin pajamas riding down as you got off the bed. Your mother was busy peering down at the garden view from your window as her peach-manicured fingers tied the curtains with their strings turning to look at you she began,

''About time you made an appointment with Antonio, Darling I am sure he can tame that unruly mane of yours''

'home sweet home' you signed to yourself and shut the bathroom door behind you with a slam.

...

...

As you moved towards the dining area, you can't help but linger a little on the stairs, the quiet descent through the heart of grandeur, your hands gliding through the railings. The railings, polished and timeless offering a steady guide. The soft rustling noise of feet and clicks and clatter of pots and dishes. Most probably Mathew and Martha going about their daily routine in the kitchen and the house respectively. you made a mental note to greet them after breakfast.

Your footsteps painted a rhythm on the marble, a soft cadence that harmonized with the surroundings, At the final step the chandelier overhead although unlit, swayed due to the rustling of the wind due to the open windows when you spotted your parents sitting in the patio dining. In their natural habitat, your father going through his work pad and your mother talking about anything and everything and your father listens or at least pretending to which his occasional nods and hums. You turned your direction and walked towards them. Swishing past your picture wall which contained the portal to a world once lived, each photograph, a fragment of eternity, stands as a testament to the beauty of life's moments captured, Every place bearing witness to your mother's artistry and intention and hard work in making this mansion home with her touch and love for those cherished moments, a sanctuary where the past dances with the present. Your eyes caught in your graduation picture, how long was it, 7 years or 8? A nostalgic smile played on your lips while looking at the picture of you, Noella, and Joshua, standing side by side, and Joshua's hands around Noella's waist and on your shoulders. In the embrace of friendship and love. Heart filling with reminiscence, the taste of victory, the scent of accomplishment lingering in the air like a sweet fragrance. Eyes, alight with hope and anticipation. The smiles are as radiant as the sun was on that day. A Nice day, you thought to yourself. And you made your way towards your parents.

...

...

Halfway through the breakfast and giving your father a little summarization of the Swiz branch, he gave you some tips and you asked him about the current scene with the resort project your father is about to start when your mother excitedly interjected,

‘Enough of you both and your business,’ she chided  ‘You daughter and father always about data and strategies.’ turning her body towards you ‘ Y/N darling you won't believe who we met at the country club last week’

‘Another aspiring painter’

Making your father chuckle behind his coffee mug

your mother rolled her eyes and said,

‘No, Jeon Wooshik.’

‘And whom that would be?’

‘Your mother's childhood admirer’, your father quipped. 

‘Enough of that James, I told you we were just friends.’

Now it was your father's turn to roll his eye and shake his head.

So anyway as I was saying, Wooshi was there

‘Wooshi’ your father huffed and followed by a small pout.

‘Hush James!’

‘We were golfing and as you know your father and his partner as always hooting like pigeons in the corner about any slight inconvenience in the office in call or person. I see this man constantly staring at me even though there was a woman next to him,’ shifting in her seat she reached for the coffee. Her eyes gleamed with excitement making your heart squeeze a little at her cuteness. ‘I thought why does he look so familiar? So I dismiss it and go back to my swinging practice and from the corner of my eye, I see him making his way towards me.’

‘Just get to the point kitty.’ 

‘And miss the best part where you almost grabbed his collar in the fit of your jealousy.’ She teased. 

‘He was standing too close’, Your father defended. 

‘we've been married for 35 years Jamie, It is very unbecoming if you act like a newlywed.’

It still baffles you no matter how your father tries to suppress the nickname still making his lips twitch in a smile.

‘As I was saying before I was very rudely interrupted, she shot a small glare towards your father, Wooshi and I were childhood friends he used to live next to my grandmother's house and we used to play together every summer. Fun times, So, Wooshi and His wife have a son around your age…’

‘oh No,’ The real motive of this conversation finally settling in. 

‘oh yes, maybe around 3-4 years your senior’, she waved her hand in dismissal. ‘But that doesn't matter. We started talking about you, then Wooshi suggested why don’t we introduce both the kids. So your father and I invited them for dinner here at our residence this weekend, Y/n stop shaking your head. And I am warning you Before you find yourself in any unavoidable engagement for that particular time and date. I am just asking for a little acquaintance building on your side and a reunion on mine. it's not like we want you both to get married on that day itself, just get to know each other’

‘Ma this is not the Victorian era…’

‘Y/N you're about to be thirty,’ she interrupted ‘and I am not saying you need a man to establish your worth. You're a fine established and successful businesswoman. And your father and I are very proud of you, But Darling the world we live in.  There are always people trying to overpower the other and we don't want the legacy that our family has built over the years with their blood, sweat, and tears to be forgotten. Times are changing but not the foundational rules of society. Marriage and its institution are and always will be a prospering proposition and there is no denying that.’

You turned to look at your father for some assistance but before your dad sadly Jamie is Kitty's husband and Before her husband, he was James L/N a businessman of the third generation. Today that point was further proven.

‘Your Mother is right, Jeon Wooshik is the owner of the JJ Group’ He informed. 

‘The Same JJ's Line of Hotel and Society Housing?’

‘Yes, and right now they are eyeing the same property that I had brought under your name for their next project.’ 

‘But haven't you already started gathering investors for the resort project in the same land?’ 

‘Yes, but they are making offers that seem tempting, Their interest in the land is making the investors reluctant as JJ's have a reputation of getting the things they have set their eyes on. I hope you understand what I am trying to say, princess.’

Your parents looking at you expectantly when your mother began,

''Y/N, darling if you don't want it or are interested in someone else then we can forget this conversation and have the dinner like any other dinner we host for our friends..''

The words your mother spoke trailed off as you gathered your thoughts, the pros and cons. When the patio's door opened and Martha entered the area with a warm smile which you reciprocated, setting down your coffee in front of you, her presence offering a temporary interruption you were about to ask about her health when she handed you your phone.

‘It was continuously ringing in your room’

you looked down at the name flashing on your phone screen, sparking a quickened heartbeat, taking the phone from her hands you excused yourself from the table and went inside the house to take the call

your mother looked at your retrieving figure with curiosity and then sighed.

Isn't it a bit late there? I hope nothing happens to him,

you stood in the living area opposite the picture wall, standing beneath the chandelier, your phone cradled in your hand as you answered the call --

‘Hello’

‘Tante’ a soft small voice whimpered. 

...

...

Savoring the delicate warmth of the teacup cradled in his hands, Wonwoo's gaze danced over the report once more, each line etching itself into his mind. The glasses perched upon his nose were adjusted with a slight push, bridging the gap between his thoughts and the words on the screen. Amidst this solitary communion with data, a gentle knock rapped upon his office door, drawing his attention from the illuminated screen.

With practiced grace, the teacup found its place, and he beckoned the visitor in. "Come in," his voice, a tone of measured authority wrapped in politeness, echoed through the room. A figure stepped inside, the interplay of light and shadow casting a cloak of maturity over his features.

"Sir, they are waiting for you in the conference room," the young man intoned, respectful deference present in his demeanor.

"Thank you, Chan. I'll be right with you," Wonwoo responded, his voice a blend of warmth and efficiency. As the door closed behind the assistant, his thoughts momentarily wandered to the past. Chan, his assistant for three years, had entered his world amidst a tempestuous encounter that had left a lasting imprint. The timidness in Chan's manner was a poignant reminder of that initial encounter—a dance between authority and trepidation.

Adjusting his attire, sleeves drawn down from his elbows and jacket secured, Wonwoo strode across the expanse of his office, a fusion of confidence and determination in every step. The coat stand yielded his navy suit jacket, and the act of buttoning it up felt like donning a shield—armor for the challenges that awaited. With purposeful strides, he approached the door, swinging it open to reveal Chan, ever the attentive shadow, iPad in hand and gaze pinned to the doorplate bearing his title.

"President, Jeon Wonwoo," it read, a reminder of the mantle he carried.

Chan, swift in his response to the door's movement, snapped to attention. His unwavering commitment to his role was evident in every gesture. The pair began their descent, elevator doors closing behind them, transporting them from the lofty heights of Wonwoo's office to the eleventh-floor realm of conferences.

Through muted corridors, they journeyed, the murmurs of voices growing clearer as they approached the conference room. "Why do we have a meeting at 8:30 in the morning?" a voice drifted from within, a question marked by a hint of exasperation.

The room's threshold was reached, and Chan orchestrated the opening, granting passage to the company's head. As Wonwoo entered, a silence fell like a tapestry settling, every gaze gravitating toward him. The resolute tap of his footsteps rang in the chamber, his presence commanding attention as he settled into his designated seat at the head of the table.

A contemplative hush was punctuated by his voice—a baritone note that resonated through the room's hush. "Because I said so," he declared, the words woven with authority and finality, the brushstrokes of a leader. "Anyone having a problem with that?" he inquired, his brows arching as if to challenge dissent.

A quick, collective response from the head manager—no defiance, only allegiance. "No sir!"

He shook his head, the subtlest of gestures to mark his acknowledgment. A silent cue and the room shifted, a choreography of souls finding seats, the conference table now their stage.

"Very well," he began, his tone a melody of tempered purpose, "Now shall we begin?" In that question, he set in motion a symphony of discussions, The air held the weight of responsibility. At the head of the table, a screen illuminated with graphs and numbers. As his eyes absorbed the lines and curves, Amidst the tide of successes a shadow emerged- A loss marked by the stark line of red that intersected the charts. The room's collective breath seemed to still as the spotlight of attention fell upon the disheartening point of descent.

A voice, poised yet tinged with a note of irate, broke the stillness,'' Can someone care to explain what exactly happened in the Westeria Society Complex" The answer to the question already known to Wonwoo, but making sure that every single person in this room is also aware of the gravity of the situation and what is this costing them and their reputation.

Wonwoo leaned forward and tilted his head, trying to catch the eye of the managing director of the Wisteria department project. ''Chan please read out the article again'' voice controlled but commanding. 

Rising from his seat, in practiced efficiency he started reading out the report from his work pad, ‘1 Dead after level-4 fire broke at the 60-storey residential building  Westeria Towers, at Cranberry Rd, Around noon. The fire and rescue department reached the spot soon as they received the news about the incident..’

Wonwoo raised his hand as a gesture to stop. 

‘So,  Mr. Kim care to explain, just after 4 months of its handing over and inauguration why was there a lack of proper fire prevention measures and equipment?’  Pushing his glasses up his nose with the forefinger and thumb ‘The JJ groups stocks have taken a hit because of this’ 

‘Sir’ Mr. Kim started hesitantly, ‘the police and insurance department is still investigating the situation we dont know for certain if the death was due to fire or something else’ 

Wonwoo was silent, the boardroom like a chamber of disappointment. Everyone looking at each other in contemplation and trying to seek a resolution. 

…

…

By the time the meeting ended, Wonwoo felt a headache emerging when Chan walked two steps behind and quipped, ‘Your father called’ 

‘And?’

‘To conform with you for the dinner at the L/N’s’ 

‘The Diamond merchants ones?’ 

‘And Iron’ Chan added. 

‘Aren't these the same ones under whom the Burbone Road property is’

‘Actually, it's their daughter who is the owner of that land’ 

‘The one my father can’t stop talking about’

‘Actually, it’s Mrs. L/N that he can’t stop talking about’ Chan mused 

Wonwoon chuckled and unbutton the suit jacket, ‘much to Mama’s dismay’

‘Interesting’  leaning back in his chair, mind entertaining the idea and what can he gain from this possible union. He nodded in Chan’s direction and said ‘You know the drill’ 

‘I’ll have the file ready by tomorrow morning’ Chan affirmed and made his way out of the office, to make the calls and go on with the day and the additional task in hand. 

…

…

The echo of approaching steps, the cadence of heels against the marble floor of the second floor of the silent mansion where your study is situated can be heard across the shut door. In a swift accord, there were two subtle knocks on your door. 

Closing the laptop, you leaned back on your chair.

‘Enter’ 

The door opened and with fluid grace Rema in her 5’6ft glory entered the room, brown big doe eyes filled with anticipation. The olive suit pant complimenting her honey skin, Shoulder length golden bob adorning her heart-shaped face. With a camaraderie smile and purposeful step, she crossed the threshold and sat on the chair across from you. 

‘It's been a while Ms. L/N.’

‘So as it has been Ms. Sinha’ 

Both of you breaking into a laugh, shaking her head she began, 

‘Welcome back doll, I missed you so much! I hope you’re back for good’ 

‘Well that depends on how things far in Swiss you know’ 

‘I came as quickly as I could after your call, what's going on?’ Her eyebrows scrunch when she activates her serious mode. 

You brief her about the call and the notice that arrived at your apartment in Switzerland and your mail, which you showed to your most trusted lawyer and greatest friend.  She listened to every word attentively all while formulating a plan on how to kick-start the case in put the ball in your court. Considering your history Rema has been by your side at your lowest and helped you navigate your new situation after Noella and Joshua. Although you were certain that the secret that bore between you, her, and Jeonghan is still safe, one can only be assured till the time their fears become their realities and make them face the truth, the answers of which are hiding deep within them. 

You were about to mention the claims Noella’s family are making when a rapt on the door interrupted, 

‘Come in’ 

The door made a small creek noise and your assistant entered with a brown Color file and informed, 

‘This is everything available about Jeon Wonwoo’ 

Rema who was busy eyeing  Reachal snapped her gaze in your direction and mused softly. 

‘Jeon Wonwoo… hmm if  I am not very wrong then it’s the JJ groups Prince we’re talking about’ 

‘Prince’ you huffed and rolled your eyes. 

Opening the file you took out the papers and pictures and skimmed through the information...You were halfway through when Rachael quipped ‘You should look at page no. 14’ her eyes gleaming with impish, a smirk playing on her pink lips. 

Skipping to the page, you couldn’t help but raise your brow and a knowing smile graced your lips, 

‘Well well well, what do we have here’ 

Rachel settled Down on the seat next to Rema, shoulders squared. 

‘Good job Rachael’ Giving her a nod of acknowledgment, she gave a little bow and the smirk transformed into a proud smile. Making Rema chuckle as well, she extended her hand to learn the object of amusement. You passed her the papers, interlacing your fingers you drew a quick deep breath. When your eyes locked with Rema, you could feel the wheels turning in her head. You tilted your head slightly a dialogue going between you and her telepathically

 don’t even think about it and

 at cue, she raised her left brow as if saying

 worth a shot. 

You turned to look at Rachel and said 

‘well Rach, confirm the dinner with my mother, let’s see what this Wooshi’s Woowoo is about’ 

The three of you share a laugh.

Yet little did you know, What Jeon Wonwoo is really about.  

…

…

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, the day of the long-awaited dinner arrived, casting a golden hue that painted the world in warm tones. The minimalist opulence of the dining room, adorned with intricate golden ornate designs, exuded an air of elegance. A chandelier, a cascade of crystalline stars, hung suspended, its golden glow shimmering in symphony with the gleaming decor. The room held a sense of anticipation, a canvas where stories were poised to unfold.

Earlier, Jeon Wooshik and his wife, Jeon Sunmi, graced the room with their presence, punctual in their arrival. The polished ambiance seemed to harmonize with their presence, a fitting backdrop for figures of influence. Yet, there was a noticeable absence—the JJ Group's prince, Jeon Wonwoo. Lately, he had been a touch delayed, a hint of disruption in his otherwise punctual routine.

The backdrop of the day painted a different canvas for you. Typically ensconced within the walls of the mansion's home office, today's demands necessitated your presence elsewhere. The on-site inspection of Bourbon Road loomed, accompanied by a meeting with Rema's firm's partner—a case that carried its weight of concern. A cloak of worry draped your heart, its weight a testament to the responsibilities you bore. The facade of calm you presented was a necessity, for many facets of your life remained veiled from your parents—a symphony of secrets echoing in the chambers of your heart.

Descending the stairs, your thoughts wove intricate patterns, a tapestry of worries and hidden anxieties. The doorbell's chime pierced the air, drawing your attention. Mathew, the ever-attentive presence, greeted the guest who had arrived—a man of confident stature, around 6 or 6'1 feet tall. His strides bore practiced grace, each footfall a note of purpose. Jeon Wonwoo, the embodiment of a regal presence, entered with an air of authority that whispered of his heritage. His hair, neatly combed back, revealed a single strand that resisted the arrangement, lending him an air of both maturity and defiance. The glasses perched on his nose amplified his features, a detail that underscored his experience and poise.

Mathew, the courteous guide, led him towards the sitting area where your parents were seated. But as he traversed the room, his gaze caught upon you—the woman standing at the stairs' threshold. A pause, a moment frozen in time, marked his recognition of your presence. The gleam of the chandelier cast a luminous reflection upon the room, illuminating your presence like a hidden gem unveiled.

As he veered towards you, each step seemed to be orchestrated by destiny itself. His confident demeanor bore a charming smile, an invitation extended through his expression. The practiced politeness your mother had advised for the evening found its form as you extended your hand, meeting his for a handshake. A mere whisper of pressure conveyed acknowledgment, a ritual of introduction performed with grace.

His voice, a symphony of introductions, resonated. "Jeon Wonwoo, Jeon Wooshik's son, or as your mother calls him, Wooshi." A playful lilt danced upon his lips as he spoke, and you couldn't help but allow a subtle smile to grace your own. Your introduction, delivered with a touch of humor, mirrored the familiar banter. "Y/N, L/N Kiaori's daughter, or as your father calls her, Kiki." His chuckle echoed the shared jest, a dance of camaraderie that bridged the gap between unfamiliarity and rapport.

The brief exchange of hands lingered in memory as he offered you an assessing gaze—an appraisal that extended beyond the surface. As his eyes traced your form, it felt as if layers were being unwound, your essence laid bare to his scrutiny. With a discerning tone, he remarked, "The shade blue never looked so good Ms.L/n. But as a businesswoman yourself, I am certain you must have done your research on me." The edge of cockiness in his words was met with a tone brimming with amusement. "Thank you for the compliment Mr.Jeon, Yes I like to test the waters before jumping in. And if I am not very wrong, then I can expect that you have done the same."

Your exchange brimmed with unspoken nuances, the tension of the upcoming engagement palpable. "You're aware why we're gathered here, right?" he inquired. The understanding between you two was an undercurrent, one that held layers beyond the surface. "Yes," you affirmed, a touch of solemnity in your voice, "and I have no intention of entertaining it beyond this evening. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

"Ouch, that's a bit harsh, Ms. L/N," his words held a hint of challenge, a subtle invitation to spar in the arena of words. Yet, you moved away, your steps graceful, your resolve unswayed. Walking towards the seating area, you glanced back, your head tilting in mock acknowledgment, "I don't want to be a hurdle between you and your darling Mrs. Eleanor Calder. I'm pretty sure she's doing a shoddy job hiding your NDA, or rather, PDA." The contours of his smile shifted, a change in demeanor that was imperceptible to most.

And then, he moved—a calculated approach that brought him within intimate proximity. The air around him carried an intoxicating allure, the magnetism of his presence weaving an enchanting spell. His voice, a low rumble, reached your ears as his lips grazed the air near your ear, his words meant only for you. "We all have our vices, Ms. L/N. Just like your bastard you hide in Switzerland… away from everyone. What's his name, ah, Noel Hong?" The world seemed to slow, your heart's rhythm matching the staccato of your thoughts. How could he know? The revelation stirred a tempest of emotions within you, each wave crashing against the fortress you had built.

His words continued each syllable a calculated echo that resonated within you. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me… at least, for the time being." As he resumed his path towards the seating area, his steps seemingly unaffected, your mind whirred with realization. A single word, a symphony of emotions—fuck. The weight of his knowledge lay heavy upon your shoulders, a shadow that loomed even amidst the golden opulence of the room.

tbc...