#it's absolutely glorious and it DEMANDS more attention!!!

[arc-en-disco]

Lord + Emperor on a dark background hits different

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

LOVED your reader tamaki haruhi. Can I have some ideas for excuses haruhi would make for tamaki? Like laying it on thick that he's such a sweet and caring person (and rich and powerful)

Also, for a separate idea, do you think haruhi would manipulate tamaki / the host club in reader's favor? Like getting them to buy reader's stuff. Thanks I love your writing!!!

Yandere Haruhi Fuijioka and Tamaki Suoh (2)

Of course

Tamaki has so much power and money 

He’s a force to be reckoned with even among the upper class

So if at his suggestion a certain student might be expelled or even drop out of the school because of bullying

If you even begin to suspect that Tamaki is behind any of this Haruhi will assure you there’s no way

Taking a page out of Kyoya’s book she’ll create some mad up reason as to why this is completely unrelated

Or when the classmate who confessed to you 

 was called away by Tamaki later on in the day 

And somehow ended up having drowned in the fountain

It wasn’t Tamaki

No no 

Haruhi will cite some other students who bullied them that must have gone too far

Though it’s not likely he’ll go that far normally

But sometimes love just makes you do crazy things

She won’t tell you about all his great traits 

Otherwise you’d notice far too fast

For so long she’s been pushing him away 

She can’t possibly stop now

Besides she kind of likes the hurt look he gives her when she writes him off

But she absolutely is willing to manipulate Tamaki, The Host club, Lobelia 

Anyone she needs to if it means spoiling you

She’ll harp on anyone’s desire to gain her favor by practically demanding they invite you too

But if you’re busy she’ll just try and bring home things you like

“Oi Tamaki.”

“Yes Haruhi?”

“Did you get my fancy tuna?”

“Yes of course I did!”

“And (Y/n)’s favorite food?”

“Yes how could I forget~”

“Good boy.”

Or she’ll convince the host club if they’re still fighting for her affections to practically smother you with attention

What better way to chase off confessors and make the host club look strange in your eyes

“Y’know I think I could be in a relationship if I knew my partner could care for (Y/n).”

“But I thought Haruhi only loved (Y/n)?”

“....I’d be willing to be in a relationship with anyone who can care for (Y/n).”

“…”

“...”

“...”

“Move I’m going to find them first!”

“Not before me!”

“Fighting is so immature. You should just let your senior do this.”

“That’s right which means (Y/n)’s mine!”

But don’t forget about Tamaki 

Before Haruhi came along those in the host club are loyal to him

He’s their over caring leader of the Host Club

That and he’s oh so great at schmoozing

Whether you’re into that or indifferent like Haruhi

“Come (Y/n) allow me to show you the glorious love of the Host Club!”

“Oh uh okay…”

“Don’t worry I will let you hold my hand if you’re nervous.”

He’s not as composed as Haruhi

He’s a lot more unhinged

He might of cried when someone else kissed Haruhi 

but it would not be the same with you

After officially gaining Haruhi’s love he’s not all that willing to wait again

Aren’t you his darling too 

Wouldn’t you like him too spoil you with fancy tuna too or whatever you like

But refusing won’t end well 

He’d much rather you try and get food or money from him than just outright refuse him

Without Haruhi’s intervention he’ll end up flying you to some island and moving you into another mansion of his

But thankfully Haruhi’s convinced him to at least let you live out your school years

But the duo are truly a force to be reckoned with

You won’t be getting away anytime soon

And neither will those that try and take your attention from them

[nevermindigotthis]

Oooookay, so in my quest to find a Drarry fic I like I came up with my own idea. Basically, instead of Harry, Ron and Hermione all being captured (during the war), Harry manages to draw attention so only he is captured and manages to hide his face (similarly to what Hermione does). He gets taken to the manor and Draco is asked to identify him. Harry is absolutely sure Draco knows it’s him, but Draco hesitates to say so. In that moment, Harry gets a Voldemort vision: Voldemort has found the Elderwand. However, Voldemort also sees what Harry sees, which is Draco, with the absolute certainty that Draco knows it‘s him and isn‘t saying anything.

So Voldemort returns to Malfoy manor absolutely PISSED and accuses Draco of treason and starts torturing him while Narcissa tries to reason with him. Voldemort demands all Malfoys prove their loyalty by torturing Draco with Cruciatus. Bellatrix does not hesitate. Lucius is reluctant, but too afraid to resist, so he complies. Narcissa begs that he‘s her son and she just can‘t. Haven’t decided if he kills her for it.

Then Voldemort turns to Harry, who doesn‘t want to die and tells Voldmort that he‘s a horcrux so he won‘t be killed (Hermione figured it out earlier). Voldemort tortures him a bit too and then throws the both of them in the cellars of the Manor. Which is where this picture comes in (with a lot more humor than the fic would have).

I haven‘t decided how this would end (apart from Drarry, lol), but the glorious escape would entail Harry realizing Draco is the master of the Elderwand and them using that fact to escape. Now that I think about it though, Voldemort torturing Draco would probably make him the master… eh, I haven‘t figured it out yet.

But enjoy the image, because writing is hard and I probably will never actually write this fic.

[yandere-sins]

Ok but like… can you do some yandere NSFW könig headcanons? Like if you disobeyed him and you were crying and scared of the punishment but he has to do it but he’s super horny I’m sorry ignore if it’s too thirsty I’m down bad 😩😩😩

You, me, everyone lol. Thank you guys for being down bad for this anxious bad boy, I love him too ♥

Rated Lemon, 18+

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

♡ If you put huge body mass, anxiety, and social awkwardness in one man, you cannot expect him not to absolutely simp for his darling in any and all ways possible to mankind. Of course, he tries so hard to make you like him and gain your favor until you finally cave in and comply with him asking you to come to him for cuddles. König didn't know he'd get a massive boner the moment you straddle his hips either, but well... now it's there, and he's biting his lip to the point of drawing blood, ready to fall to his knees, begging you not to abandon him once you notice and jump off him. If you don't notice it right away, mistaking the boner for his muscled thighs, you'll probably find out about it from his heavy panting and strangled breaths as he barely lasts a few seconds before cumming in his pants. He's so fucking ashamed and still so fucking hard afterward that it's painful.

♡ I know the real question is: Does he whimper? And tl;dr: He whimpers. It's such a glorious, stammering mess when his cock gets the tiniest bit of attention. König thanks, moans, praises, and then thanks you some more for the opportunity to fuck you, disregarding if you were on board before he started his merciless thrusts or not. Up to climax, he is all but praising the lord for how beautiful, amazing, and enhancing his life you are, and how tight, warm, wet, and well you're taking him. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. Only to then, abruptly, grow quiet, breath halting as his body tenses, a strangled squeak escaping him as his cock pulses inside you, ready to release all this pressure that has built up for years. It might become a problem that he can't shut up in further sessions because he's downright annoying as he goes on and on while you're trying to reach your own orgasm somehow through the awful experience. But if you demand it from him, König will do his damn best, sounding like a miserable squeaky toy every time he thrusts into you and isn't allowed to say something. It's this hard for him to stay quiet.

♡ He's a huge premature ejaculator with too much stamina. No matter the reason you two are fucking—be it out of emotions overcoming you two or because he can't take it anymore and takes you out of uncontrollable need—König is all but over the moon over every touch or breath against his cock. If there's any warmth to plunge into (mouth/pussy/ass), he's cumming from the slightest stimulation, like a lick or his tip sliding in, only to then get a real taste as his hips move on their own, driving his cock deep inside with no restraints and his jizz as the lubricant. There's no holding back once he's inside you either, as he keeps plowing through both of you continuously reaching climax until he's finally satisfied. However, he still cums more times than you do, filling you up to the brim. I blame it on his lack of real-life experience, so over time and training, König, too, will last a little longer. Though this also means there really isn't a way to tease him for the first year of being caught up with him. König just cums from everything you do once he had a taste of you, even if it's just something like you having nothing clean to wear and putting on his shirt. The stains everywhere are abhorrent.

♡ I do totally believe that König's darling is likely his first and last relationship despite the... situation you two have with him kidnapping you and now using you as a cumdumpster as well. So he's still quite inexperienced, BUT he works incredibly hard to please you regardless. There are surprisingly a lot of tutorials these days on how to please your partner, and König is all too happy to try them on you. Making you cum ultimately also makes him cum, but he's genuinely doing it for you first and foremost, and it elates and motivates him to see you shivering and climaxing right in front of his eyes. There's something so satisfying in knowing he can do this to you, and it almost makes König believe if he keeps going, you'll fall in love with him at some point. He's too delusional to know when to stop or listen to you begging him to accept it when you say no. Once he starts fulfilling his desires, there's no way anyone can stop him. It's like fucking you becomes his second way of breathing.

♡ König probably wouldn't use sex as a harsh punishment. However, he really hates arguing with you (it upsets his anxiety badly), so if he finds out that he can stop arguments with his cock or fingers, there's a very high chance he'll use them against you. Listening to your gurgles or moans is like heaven after the hell every argument is for him, so he'd rather 'punish' you by facefucking you or fry your brain by having you hang from his thick fingers until you're a drooling mess. It's a charming way to stop unnecessary bouts of emotions, and once he learns to keep himself more in check, he'll be happy to leave you behind to go about his day after making sure you can't form any coherent thoughts anymore that would cause more arguing. It's like he resetting you back to more peaceful times, and it works well for him.

♡ While König doesn't like anything that can potentially harm you (he believes that sex should be nice and loving and a wonderful experience for you both while he forces you to take him like an animal), he does have his fair share of kinks. He's totally on board with trying everything once as long as it's between the two of you since he really doesn't like sharing you with anyone. His favorites will always be kinks that mark you in some way, be it covering you in cum, biting, scratching, leaving hickies, painting your inside whites (and all the kinks that support this), and watching it drip out of you as if that means you belong to him now. He also loves all kinds of things that enhance the experience, like groping, toys (though he gets childishly jealous of them), forcing you to roleplay (authority kink in both ways, baby!), foreplay sessions, etc. And when he does realize he might have worn you out, König will simply resort to using your worn underwear or getting off between your thighs to finish his session alone. Nothing compares to being inside you, but it's a pleasant alternative every once in a while.

♡ His curiosity, however, has led to a few reprehensible times, too, especially when it comes to applying his strength. His hands are just a bit too big when they wrap around your throat, and had he not snapped out of it, he might have snapped you. The same goes for being so lost in fucking you that he doesn't realize he's accidentally ramming you into the headboard or slamming you into a wall. Sometimes he won't realize he's squeezing the air out of your lungs with his weight on top of you. Occasionally, these things happen, and they ruin the mood for both of you. Worn out by PTSD, things become increasingly dangerous as he remembers moments from the battlefield, even though you are in front of him. It feels like he's trying to crush you with his arms until you panic and scream his name to pull him back to reality and out of the memories of him killing soldiers with his bare hands. König is so devastated whenever he does things like this, trying to get you comfortable by holding you and coddling you even though you want nothing more but to get away from him. He'll cry and apologize so much that the rest of the day is ruined, and he can never forgive himself for confusing you with a damn bastard on the battlefield. No matter how much you struggle, you won't be able to get out of his hold now either, as he needs to feel you as close as possible to know you're okay while he goes through a full-blown anxiety attack over what he did. But hey! At least you're alive... barely.

[andro-beaurepaire]

I have been in the Temeraire fandom for a whole five minutes and now I am demanding fics from Temeraire's point of view as he's pampered and spoiled by Laurence.

This man had been gifted with a giant scaly cat and understood the assignment.

Oh dear, I wish I had so much more of those than I actually have to rec you ! ;-; My own venture into the fandom is relatively new as well, so if people have more other recs, please feel free to send them ♥

Most of those fics are super spoilery if you haven't finished the series though ! Also you will soon find out that dragons are actually the ones who are most interested in pampering their humans, so a lot of those are actually Laurence getting dotted on by Temeraire too, which I hope will appeal as well ♥

-

-Gifts for Dragons by trolldoll (set post-canon, Temeraire has questions about the little tokens humans exchange to remind themselves of each other when they're apart, and Laurence decides to give him one suited to his size ♥ Hilarious and adorable, with background Laurence/Tharkay)

-Care Package by canis_m (set after book 6, Temeraire's mom sends a package of gifts destined to both her son and his captain ♥ Fluffy and adorable !)

-Seasons by drifloon (one of my all time favorites ! Set between book 6 and book 7. Laurence tries his hardest to be the best caregiver/provider he can for his dragon, and Temeraire frets and worries over his captain's mental health and emotional wellbeing. This has a more romantic take on their relationship, though absolutely nothing sexual happens. Mostly fluff, with a dash of hurt/comfort ♥)

-Glorious Revenge by Phnx (Modern AU, Temeraire plans for a matching couple's costume with as much feathers and glitter and shiny stuff as possible, Laurence suffers the indignity out of love for his dragon, and Tharkay has a good laugh at their expense until he doesn't XD Pure comedic fluff!)

-Marks of Esteem by @verdet-cadet (another all time favorite of mine ! Set during book 1, the aviators have a long tradition of getting their dragons a very particular gift, and both them and Laurence realize that Laurence is more than ready to follow this tradition as well ! Or : Laurence gets a tattoo for Temeraire /0\ Fantastic aviator slice of life, hilarious and hot at the same time ♥)

-An Ever-Fixed Mark by Boochicken (if you liked the previous one, then I can only recommend this one as well, for it is a direct follow-up ! Temeraire wants the most perfect design, Laurence complies, the aviators help and get drunk :D ♥)

-Priorities by @roboticnebulawrites (Set during the whole series. If you like the dragon/cat parallel, you will most certainly love this one ♥ Humans are definitely the cats here tho !)

-The Ship's Cat by Ystradwel (Another fic that dives into the dragon/cat parallel, only this time there is an actual rivalry between Temeraire and the Reliant's ship's cat for Laurence's attention :D Laurence does his best to gives both creatures the amount of love they need ♥ Set very early during book 1)

- I hope I did not miss the mark too much ! I'm always down myself for some good Laurence & Temeraire stories in general, so all the recs are welcome ♥ Thank you for the lovely ask !

[iwas-princess]

my birthday special for the best boyfriend ever!

warnings: foot fetish (sort of), feet kissing, body worshipping (fem receiving), mentions of chubby tummys, dom!suna, slight princess kink

suna rintaro • birthday boy

“do you like them?”

the question was heard and he knew that you were speaking, but he didn’t really hear you. not over the static that played in his head as the sight sent him in overdrive.

your freshly pedicured feet were perched in his lap on display for him, revealing the newly pampered toes that you had gotten done that day for him. everything from the color of the gel polish to the lotion rubbed in your feet was chosen for him, and all day you had been practically vibrating in your seat to show them off snd see his reaction. you figured that he’d short circuit the moment he took in the white polish and lavender aroma, a blush on his cheeks before he ravished you.

and of course, you were right.

rintaro’s eyes were fixated on every detail of them, analyzing how beautiful he found them and indulging in the glorious sight of them parked in his lap as they sat pretty, begging for his appreciation.

his mouth went dry, expression both stunned and feverish when you wiggled your toes to catch his attention and pull him back to reality.

“rinnie?” you called once you were met with nothing but the reaction of him drooling over your feet speechlessly.

you nearly giggled at how much he resembled a pubescent teenage boy just now, as if he had just discovered the greatest porno mag of all time and thought it would change his life. what you didn’t expect, was for his eyes to meet yours as you teased him mentally.

his breath hitched as he seen the teasing look in your eyes, watching you bite you lip and smile knowingly at him.

“do you like them?” you repeated once you finally caught his attention.

it was a stupid question, he thought.

do you like them?

a very stupid question because anyone in their right mind would have seen the look on his face, and would have already knew that your feet with white nail polish on had a super special place in his heart.

“like them? baby, i-i love them.” he stuttered, flustered and undeniably horny now.

“rinnie?” you asked once more.

he hummed, running his thumb along your knee to encourage you to ask whatever it was you wished— even if it was his birthday.

“kiss them.”

with a growl, suna caressed your right foot gently before placing his lips to your big toe, gently pecking the skin at first before trailing more passionate kisses along the flesh surrounding it.

you gasped when his tongue swiped past his lips with a kiss to the middle of your foot, gently ticking you.

his eyes rolled back at the angelic sound, beginning to indulge in his fantasies of your pretty feet while you lie back and relax.

it had always been a desire of his to treat you like royalty, and now was no different. there was absolutely nothing more that he wanted than to worship you entirely, giving you any pleasure you could ever want and fulfilling your every wish without an ounce of hesitation.

even on his birthday.

“you kiss them so well, rin.” you moaned softly, more pleasured by the sight of him than the actual feeling.

he was beautiful, his hair messy and untamed as it tickled your soles with each kiss placed on the front of your foot. his lips endlessly covered you in kisses, adoring the calm lavender scent that filled his nose with each breath.

“they deserve it.” he mumbled against them, eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

something about the way you so easily demanded him to kiss them, awoke something obedient inside of him, something he had never felt so strongly before. the overwhelming urge to lavish you tonight introduced itself to him, informing him of take over and sending him on his way home.

suddenly, a switch flipped and he was completely gone, lips leaving opened mouth kisses all over your toes and running his tongue along the skin softly.

he was absolutely sure that if he opened his eyes, he would be a goner. the sight greeting him would be his princess looking down at him from her spot on the couch with her pretty eyes begging him to fuck her, he didn’t have to see in order to figure that out beforehand.

but, he just couldn’t shake the image out of his head. he had to see you, whether it meant going rouge or not. he knew his limits and would do absolutely nothing too far, not with his precious princess.

his lips left your skin hesitantly as he head rose back up, spit slicked on his lips and cheeks flushed now.

“love your feet so fucking much, princess.” he muttered. “all mine right?”

“yes, rinnie. all yours. everything of me is all yours.” you whined.

he smiled lazily, turning towards you to finally take in how fuck desperate you are.

surely, he had proven himself right as his eyes landed on your pleading figure, a small pout on your face as if to ask him ‘please, fuck me.’

but what really got him, as he wiped the spit off of your foot, was the way your tummy peaked through your tank top and comfortably sat.

oh, he couldn’t wait to watch it jiggle as he fucked into your sweet cunt later.

rintaro licked his lips, suddenly feeling dry and hot as he imagined just how cute it was to watch your body shake with each thrust as you looked up at him sweetly and whined for him to keep going, keep fucking you and fill you up.

there was nothing he loved more than watching you during sex, resting his eyes on any part of you and finding it breathtaking.

he stroked his thumb over your toes, eyes still trained on your lower belly.

“gonna let me fuck you now, gorgeous?” he gently asked, voice full of love and affection as he asked something so dirty.

you swallowed thickly before nodding, his deep voice sending waves of pleasure through your body as he spoke naughtily.

he smiled feline like.

“words, baby. give your birthday boy some words.”

“yes, please. please, fuck me, rinnie. need it.” you begged, giving in to his sudden dominate behavior.

he leaned down slowly, his eyes flickering to yours as his face moved towards your exposed stomach. heat rose in your cheeks at the realization of the bare skin, but before you could push him away out of embarrassment, his lips brushed against your lower belly, irrupting a moan from you.

“fuck, you’re just so pretty.” suna chuckled against you. “can’t wait to put my cock in this princess cunt of yours while i fuck you silly.”

[egg-emperor]

I know you're a game Eggman fan, but the way you describe your relationship with him reminds me of the way AoStH Robotnik treated his robot wife in that one episode.

I honestly don't remember what AoStH Robotnik was like with that to see the comparison because of how big of a game Eggman fan specifically I am and how I've never been super into any of the shows besides X. XD

But the relationship dynamic for Eggman and I is based on everything that I feel game Eggman would want in a partner. I can see him having a very twisted perception of relationships and marriage + personal conditions for his unique take on them. Because in canon he's like this about all relationship types of lackeys, family members, and everything else too so there's no doubt that the same applies there

In the rare occasions he dabbles in it that is, as he can happily be alone as he is in the games, he likes to live alone only with his creations because of their guaranteed worth and loyalty to him if their programming is right. He must have very high standards for intimate relationships as a result if he's going to be making any exceptions- and just because he feels he deserves only the absolute best for his brilliance, of course!

He wants someone to completely match his energy in terms of his love for himself and to be willing to serve all of his needs. To love him as much as he loves himself, to want everything to be all about him as much as he does, to give him all the attention and love his massive ego and immense greed craves, to give him everything he deserves as the most handsome super genius and powerful superior emperor he is!

To give him everything he wants whenever he wants it, to be obedient and loyal and serve him well, to set an example for the respect and worship everyone else will have to follow in his empire, to show off that he can have any cute guy he wants because he's that great, to show that he's loved and adored, to make him feel like the important powerful emperor he is, and to have control, power and superiority over them.

No commitment on his end, he doesn't have to provide as they vicariously live through his wealth by him keeping them around to serve his needs anyway, and he doesn't lose his freedom, he's not tied down at all. He just gets to experience the joy of being showered in love, the boost in pride and ego, and pleasure of the intimacy without the unappealing parts of the typical traditional roles in relationships

He's The Eggman, he doesn't need to earn or give back, he deserves to just demand it, that's his mindset! So we have a boss and assistant, master and servant, emperor and subject, god and worshipper type dynamic but with extra benefits beyond common servants as his needs are met in intimacy too. I have deep feelings of love and devotion while he just soaks in it. I give it all for him and he takes it, the way it should be

He sees a relationship more as ownership and entitlement to me and he's fully taking advantage of my love and admiration for him in the most selfish ways and using me up for all I have to fuel his ego and selfish greedy desires. But I know and want this so there's no chance of me betraying him, he knows I'm wrapped around his finger and love him unconditionally and accept my life purpose being to serve him

He wants things his way, the only way. He doesn't want to share anything and especially not the world, it's all or nothing. I'd allow him to live the same way he always has, exactly as he wants, in fact it's even more what he wants when I'm worshipping him and giving him a taste of his future ruling the glorious empire! 🥰 Everything he wants for himself, I want for him too, and his happiness is worth it all to me 💜

[the-mic-drop]

Zelink gets Isekaied into BG3 Pt8: Goblin Camp

Zelda- High Elf Draconic Lineage Sorcerer

Link- Half Wood Elf Champion Fighter

So far: Team Zelda explored the Risen Road, Team Link dealt with Lady Ethel and Mayrina, and the Dream Visitor did an oopsie.

The party approaches the Goblin checkpoint outside the camp proper. Zelda, with the confidence of her mental victory over the Dream Visitor, uses her aura of authority (unrelated to the tadpole) to get the past the guards.

Right before they cross the bridge, the voice of The Absolute begins to dominate the party's minds. However, instead of the artefact, the Triforce symbol lights up on Zelda's hand and silences it with the sound of the bell of creation. (The sound that goes off when Zelda uses her power in BotW.)

The glowing Triforce fades and becomes a tattoo on her hand. In the confusion afterward, Gale asks to analyze the new tattoo. Once he does, he struggles to convey what he's found. Whatever power Zelda... used(?) was magical, but not of the Weave. His mind is racing, but Wyll steadies him. They have only conjecture and theories, so they resolve to continue on and wait for camp to get Gale to do more research.

In the Goblins' courtyard camp, the first thing they notice is Volo. Link is the only one who met him, since he left after interviewing Link about his encounter with Goblins. He gets dragged off into the Shattered Sanctum by Gribbo as usual.

Zelda plays with the Owlbear cub, Lae'zel humbles Crusher, Gale tricks Klagga out of the poem, and Astarion works his magic on Grat.

Inside the Shattered Sanctum, they first meet Priestess Gut. Zelda puts on a pretty good show of claiming that she's received a "divine message from The Absolute" that she needs to tell her in a more private setting. On the way to her chapel, she tells the party via tadpole link to ambush her on her mark. The assassination goes off without a hitch and Zelda says a prayer.

The party starts to investigate the Defiled Temple and takes out Polma the Ogre. During the short rest they take there, they discuss the strategy for the rest of the camp. They were unable to do recon due to running into Gut immediately upon entering. Link suggests a plan of recon and sabotage. Scope out the floor plan, locate Dror Ragzlin and Minthara, find and/or free any prisoners they can, destroy as many war drums as possible, and take out and hide as many patrolling guards as they can manage.

By exploring a bit further, Gale finds the Selunite puzzle room and decide to explore a bit before carrying out their plan. They find the Selunite Outpost in the Underdark. As fascinated as Zelda is, they have enough on their plate and go back up to carry out their plan.

The plan goes pretty well. Volo and Liam are freed, several drums and even more guards are taken out, Abdirak has no takers.

The party enters the worg pens and instead of demanding for the Goblins to leave the bear alone, Zelda tells the party to be ready to attack.

The fight's a bit chaotic, but it is a successful fight. Link and Zelda are the most surprised to see the bear turn into Halsin.

The conversation with Halsin goes as normal, no great solution to the tadpoles and the Grove is still in danger.

The party plus Halsin discuss the remaining Goblin leaders and how to go about dealing with them. They decide that Minthara is in a secluded enough area to take her out without alerting the rest of the camp. Then Ragzlin will be a full battle.

For the sake of stealth, Zelda asks Halsin to stay in the Worg Pen while they deal with Minthara.

The Minthara operation goes a bit sloppy, but luckily Zelda inadvertently hits Minthara with her staff in a pressure point as the Drow lunges at her, knocking her out. Minthara is left on the floor there since the Goblins in the room needed a bit more attention to eliminate.

The party fetches Halsin and in a glorious battle, the defeat Dror Ragzlin and claim the cult's treasure.

Right before the party warps back to the Grove, Link leans out the front door, sounds Lump's Warhorn, and they leave to let the Ogres have their fun.

[felixferitas]

@ourpretender: ( cont. )

his elbow surges back, knocking over an eccentric hoard of supplies (cotton swabs and a jar of razors and clinking aftershave) when felix crowds him into the vanity. it is perfectly poetic — to oliver in particular — that they gather here at the end of the night, private walls sequestered between their respective rooms. hints of life interject down below, thudding music and raucous conversation filtering through the window; his birthday party in steady swing, loud and lavish and almost tragically lonesome. almost. because, although the intimacy borders on volatile, and the pleasure tides in with hints of punishment, it is still oliver and it is still felix. the contact is enticing enough, the words blunt and filthy enough — yet it's the unwavering attention that catches him, pins him helpless and hard between his legs. oliver nods, lips parted with shameless arousal, as his left hand digs into the back of felix's neck. sweat slicks every dip of skin, and it's both irritating and glorious that his grasps keep coming undone. he clings continuously, one knee uncomfortably pinched against the arch of his chest. "please."

felix is furious, absolutely fucking livid with the way the summer has gone, the revelation that the person he's been getting to know for six months he actually doesn't know at all reverberating in his skull even as he drives his hips forward punishingly. has oliver been laughing at him this entire time, taking him for a fool and marvelling at felix's naivete? he had taken oliver at his word, believed him so easily. judas betrayed jesus with a kiss for thirty pieces of silver, and so when oliver kissed him in the maze he'd wiped off the sting of oliver's falsehoods, his stomach curdling.

oliver seemed almost remorseful pinned against the bathroom cabinet, gracefully accepting his penance as he clenches around felix's cock tight enough to cut off blood circulation, his chest heaving as he grips the pinch of oliver's waist to steady him. "i have been endlessly patient and forgiving of you," he rasps, an incredulous and heartbroken laugh bubbling out of his throat as his other hand moves to cup the dip of oliver's chin, forcing his gaze to felix's face. "and for what? look at me. fucking look at me," felix demands, his lungs already sounding shot out of his chest as he increases the pace of his thrusts, the wet and brutal sound of skin on skin filling the bathroom as he jostles oliver against the cabinet.

had things gone differently, maybe this would've been a more gentle affair if felix's heart wasn't broken. instead, he's disgusted and simultaneously more turned on than he's ever been in his life, still riding the fucked up adrenaline rush that was learning every syllable oliver had uttered to him since their first meeting had been lies. oliver moans sweetly and pitifully enough, pliant beneath felix and he's sure to the untrained eye this would be a convincing apology, but felix is still seething with anger and he is not even close to being done with retribution. his hand drops from oliver's chin, spitting into the heat of his palm to wrap around the base of oliver's length to stroke him root to tip, the precome dribbling incessantly from his cockhead adding to the mess and smoothing the glide of friction. "you interrupted us. taking my cock like the duplicitious slag you are is the least you can do," he scolds, his humiliation and crushed ego forming a heady cocktail that he feels justified in doling out to oliver, flicking his wrist on the upstroke.

[banthacakes]

i have been reading some hunger games fic (i know, surprise). here are some things i have read and loved and probably already read two or three times in the last eight weeks. to think, eight weeks ago i had neither read nor watched the hunger games and now i have done both of these things. anyway enjoy this descent into effie trinket et al also please read my fic

the sun also rises by effies_tardis.

Out in public, Effie is seen by everyone. Like a disco ball in the sunlight: she demands attention. — Effie Trinket, a history.

This is a glorious, lovely thing! I eagerly awaited its final installment. Moments of Effie's life before and after (and during) the rebellion. Delightful writing, absolutely wistful and visceral images, lovely and lyrical and just *fist clench*. I reread it again just writing this description.

gorgeous by mirixmoya

When he first meets her Haymitch is determined to dislike his new escort. But there is something about Effie Trinket that is impossible for him to resist. As the rebellion draws nearer, will their history together be enough for Haymitch to take her with him?

okay actually this is one of many of mirixmoya's effie and/or haymitch stories and you should read all of them, but this is the one i have bookmarked and keep returning to. this fic is uncomfortable and brutal (compliment). i LOVE this haymitch. he is awkward and horrible and damaged because, who isn't? one thing i love about mirixmoya's fic is that it doesn't shy away from the yuckiness of Panem, the (probable) pimping of victors and escorts, the confusion, the beauty.

suppose i suddenly screamed by ssstrychnine

Thirteen years of Effie Trinket's life.

what you need to understand is that i'm obsessed with the stories that show effie before and after, and this is another one of those. i can't get enough of effie when she pulls haymitch's name from the bowl; effie when she realises what she has done and the tool that she is. this is much shorter, more focussed on the events of the books.

when the smoke clears by eienvine

It's been exactly fifty-one weeks since the downfall of President Snow's regime when Haymitch Abernathy sees Effie Trinket again.

This is post-rebellion, and Haymitch is a perfect mess. I love post-rebellion fic where Haymitch and Effie have to come to terms with what kind of people they were beforehand.

reconstruct by avocadomoon

"I always tried to be gentle with you," he says. His face is still creased with pain, with things that Effie is remembering too - fights and tense silences, misunderstandings and that morning on that boat, all those years ago. Sunburned and sore and heartbroken, the both of them. "I wasn't always. And I'm sorry for that, Eff."

post-rebellion. in which haymitch builds effie a house, and also this contains some of the lines in this fandom that make my heart WEEP and WRENCH. i have reread this so many times. it's a work of art.

(you should also read speechless by avocadomoon, in which Effie is always a rebel and the ways in which she suffers for it. phenomenal. tearbending.)

to heal is to grow is to love by koipotato

She tells herself that she came here on a whim but the two perfectly packed bags clenched tightly in her hands say otherwise.

Effie returns to Twelve.

post-rebellion. on flashbacks and depression and healing.

So I stayed in the darkness with you by dollsome

Moments of darkness and light. (Effie adjusts to life, and Haymitch, in District 13.)

and two non-effie based things

How Rue Became the Mockingjay by aimmyarrowshigh

An alternate chronology for The Hunger Games.

absolutely lovely and thoughtful!

There's Another River on the Other Side by Mithrigil

District 11 wins the 74th Games. The rest is history.

so lovely!

[rayalltheway]

I had a fight with Tumblr mobile to properly get this image BUT I MUST. KNOW ABOUT THIS MAN. AH.

BIG HIMBO PAPA BEAR DEMON LORE, LES GO

(Also I know I asked to be asked this question so thank you for the indulgence Skelle, dhbrhrrhhr)

- Lìliàng was the son of a yaogaui king back in his time, but his uncle forcibly took over leadership from his father when he was still young — getting sent away to live a peaceful upbringing with two tree spirits whom acted as his adoptive mothers, both of which he adored. His uncle took him back when older, something they both only agreed with because Lìliàng was ecstatic about it — the latter only realizing much too late that he much preferred the life he had with them than the time he spent with his uncle. Lìliàng did manage to reunite with them upon marrying Bái Méimáo, promising to see them as much as possible — before they were killed in the fallout of a nearby battle, leaving him devastated, but also even more determined to give his family the protection and love he didn’t always know they had given him.

- He loved stories about legendary demon warriors and rulers, and is something of a fanboy when it comes that topic. Course, when he grew up and his uncle came to collect him to become a warrior for his clan, his blind excitement made him sufficiently unprepared for what his uncle would actually demand of him — which more often than not often involved taking advantage to his strength to bully others into submission, even those who couldn’t fight back, which didn’t make Lìliàng feel very glorious, to say the least. He still loves those tales, but is very mindful of the lessons he’s imparting through them when it comes to telling them to his and Bái Méimáo’s children down the line.

- He met Bái Méimáo (and Chángbìyuán in passing) at a feast, on the occasion the two had to make negotiations with other demon clans — he was at his uncle’s side, with him having first approached the gibbons, and noticed that she and her older sibling were getting made significantly uncomfortable, with the latter looking ready to throw a punch. As such, Liliang took it upon himself to “accidentally” trip into a passing demon and crash into the dinner table, causing a mess of his uncle’s attire and redirecting his attention (albeit in a bad way) so Bái Méimáo and Chángbìyuán could get away. He didn’t think either of them noticed what he did — so he was quite surprised when Bái Méimáo appeared to privately thank him outside. The bashful, awkward moment soon turned into about an hour of happily talking, laughing and spending time together, which was only stopped when Bái Méimáo’s sibling came looking for her. Before meeting Bái Méimáo, Lìliàng never actually considered whether or not he could just leave if he didn’t like getting made lapdog to his uncle and enacting his brutal leadership — but after about a week of being unable to stop thinking about her, he decided that he’d take his chances. He flung himself out the nearest window when his uncle blocked his path to the door on his way out, and that was the last time they ever spoke.

- Lìliàng is actually a bear demon, with an absolutely gigantic brown bear as his true form. He will usually only let it out causally around his family, but oh, if you’ve enraged him enough……

- Befitting his inner geek, he loves drawing and made figurines of demons and gods he’s familiar with. He had to keep his artistic side a secret from his uncle and most of his fellow demons, but of course made a figure of Bái Méimáo as a courtship gift for her, which he considers his best work ever (aside from his kids of course).

- I kinda voice hc him as Jack Black, singing voice and all, so…there’s a bit of a hammy rocker guy in there, to say the least vsvregegeheh

[taratard]

Imagining an AU where Megatron gets captured. The Autobots are celebrating but Optimus gets ConcernedTM when Megatron makes a comment about seeing him soon. But still, the Prime does his job, locks up the prisoner, and the rest of Autobot High Command is convinced the war is basically over.

And then everything goes completely batshit. CHAOS, across the entire known universe. Because yes, the Decepticons have scattered, BUT NOT IN THE WAY ANYONE WOULD WANT THEM TO.

-

Starscream and the Command Trine have taken a large portion of the fleet and are off committing random acts of thievery, destruction, and miscellaneous shenanigans against all and sundry, because Starscream absolutely MUST "prove" he was better at leading an army than Megatron. This has very, very mixed results.

Soundwave is loyal as ever, but is unfortunately missing a lot of firepower (frag you, Starscream!) needed to try and rescue his glorious leader. He is still determined to do his best, though, using everything in his power to generally fuck with Autobot High Command, scramble long-distance communication, and generally make their lives a living hell. Ravage is enjoying being able to sabotage basically anything he can get his claws on. Laserbeak is being Best SpyTM, while Frenzy and Rumble are thriving in the overall chaos.

Overlord is committing genocide and torture on an even larger level than he did on Garrus-9, because if he can’t have that "final showdown" with Megatron, he could still prove himself the Better Bot by obliterating as many Autobots as he can, as brutally as possible. Because if the Autobots defeated Megatron, and he destroys "enough" Autobots, then it proves his Overlogic that he is "The Best" - but we all know it's never going to be enough for our favorite psycho.

Tarn is on his own bender similar to Overlord, but for him it's more a means of punishing the Autobots for daring to capture and hold Megatron, and is demanding the release of the Decepticon leader. And of course he makes sure Autobot High Command receives plenty of video recordings of what's being unleashed on their underlings in the meantime, his own particular brand of "motivation" at play.

Shockwave is now free of the only one able to veto his science projects and generally nobody is paying attention to manage him, so of course he takes the opportunity to begin unleashing his Most Unapproved/Unsanctioned Projects (which, despite getting vetoed by Megatron (Yes, MEGATRON) as "Too Evil" or "Too Unethical," he still kept the files for the projects JUST IN CASE) and it probably ends up with several planets transwarped into alternate dimensions, spontaneous black holes appearing and disappearing, and just... in general, those kind of universe-altering shenanigans. Probably alongside several smaller, less noticeable ones, like mild inconvenience fields where everyone's left sock disappears or something, idk.

Most of the general Decepticon populous are off committing random crimes and generally being minor (and/or major) nuisances, since their mindset is basically: "hey, nobody can tell me what to do anymore, I can do what I want!" So if they want to dick around on some random planet and mess with organics, or go off and steal things, or just cause random sabotages and explosions, then they will because why not.

(There are probably way more specific 'cons with their shenanigans that I could include, but these are just the top ones that popped into my head. PLEASE feel free to add in any ideas you can think of, because I thrive on chaos and these kinds of things give me life!)

-

Long story short: Everything winds up so crazy that at some point, Optimus has a complete breakdown and just barges into Megatron's cell, basically going, "FOR THE LOVE OF PRIMUS CONTROL YOUR DAMN DECEPTICONS BEFORE THE UNIVERSE IMPLODES" (likely with Ratchet and Prowl right behind him, trying to also get into the cell, probably yelling some variation of "OPTIMUS NO" - which is probably why Optimus sealed the door in the first place.)

And of course Megatron is just sitting there, smug AF, trying not to be petty enough to say I told you so but it's clearly all over his face anyways. So instead he plays hardball and is like, "So, what's in it for me?" And Optimus nearly implodes because the entire fragging universe is likely on the line BUT OF COURSE MEGATRON HAS TO BE AN OPPORTUNISTIC LITTLE SHIT ASWKQMWJMFUDM

-

Not entirely sure which continuity this would branch off from, but it's giving me major IDW vibes.

(Also giving me vibes that this might be a setup for a potential MegOp, because Optimus is probably going to do something martyr-adjacent like offer himself as prisoner, basically reversing their current roles, in hopes of negotiating a formal peace treaty because clearly Autobot victory isn't likely to happen, and if Decepticon victory means the death of all his Autobots, well, they're not gonna go for that, either.)

You are a supervillain who commands most of the criminal underground, after being placed behind bars the heroes come to you for answers when crime shoots up by 60 percent.

[starseedfxofficial]

The Surprising Comeback: How CAD/CHF's Rounding Bottom is Breaking the Forex Mold Have you ever felt like your trading decisions were as unpredictable as a cat in a bathtub? You know, that frantic, splash-everywhere sort of chaos that leaves you wondering, "How did I end up here?" Well, if you're trying to navigate the Forex market, especially with CAD/CHF, you may have felt like this a time or two. Fortunately, there are patterns—reliable, time-tested shapes that emerge in price action, one of which is a rounding bottom. Yes, it’s the market’s version of that classic underdog tale: the slow, underestimated rise that ends in a glorious breakout. Let’s dive in and explore why the CAD/CHF rounding bottom might just be your next hidden opportunity. The Forgotten Underdog Pattern Picture this: You’re sitting at your charts, coffee in hand, and a pair of reading glasses perched on your nose (okay, maybe just me). The CAD/CHF pair has been trading sideways for weeks, like a petulant teenager refusing to take direction. Then suddenly, you notice something different—a slight dip followed by a gradual climb. Congratulations, my friend, you might have spotted a rounding bottom, the trading world's Cinderella story. The rounding bottom pattern represents a period of consolidation and accumulation. Traders often overlook it because it’s not flashy. There’s no sudden drop, no towering spike, just a humble, U-shaped formation. But—and here’s the kicker—it’s exactly this humble appearance that makes it so powerful. When CAD/CHF forms a rounding bottom, it's often indicative of long-term trend reversals, meaning that missed opportunity could soon become a trader’s dream move. Why Most Traders Get it Wrong (And How You Can Avoid It) Let's address a myth here: “Patterns like the rounding bottom are too slow for profit." The truth is, most traders want the thrill—the roller-coaster kind of chart with screaming ups and downs. It's like they're in it for the adrenaline rush, rather than the actual profit (you know, kind of like buying stocks based on Elon Musk's tweets). The rounding bottom demands patience, and that’s why so many traders ignore it—to their detriment. When you see the CAD/CHF pair slowly curving upward, it’s time to put on your metaphorical Sherlock Holmes hat. Ask yourself: why is this bottom rounding? It’s likely because smart money (those institutional traders we both love and despise) is gradually accumulating. By the time the price breaks out of this curve, they're already halfway to the bank. Want to join them? You’ve got to learn to spot this, hop in while others are asleep at the wheel, and prepare for the impending rally. The Real Magic: How to Trade a Rounding Bottom on CAD/CHF But here’s where the real magic happens—capitalizing on the CAD/CHF rounding bottom takes more than just “spot and buy.” Let’s break it down step-by-step (because if there’s one thing we traders need, it's structure amid the chaos): - Identify the U-Shape: Look for a slow, rounded curve that usually takes several weeks, sometimes months, to complete. Remember, if you squint at the chart and think it resembles a lazy, barely-there smile—you’re on the right track. - Volume Analysis: Pay attention to volume during the formation. Volume tends to dry up during the middle of the U-shape and then picks up as the pattern completes. This is the first hint that smart money is slowly stepping in. Imagine volume as whispers at a party that suddenly rise into excited chatter—that’s when the fun (and opportunity) begins. - Look for Confirmation: Here’s where you need to channel your inner skeptic. Wait for the price to break above the resistance formed at the beginning of the U. When that happens, you’ve got confirmation—like waiting for your date to mention that they too think pineapple on pizza is an absolute travesty before deciding it's real love. - Target Setting: Measure the height from the bottom of the U to the neckline, then project that distance upwards from the breakout point. Boom—you’ve got yourself a target. It’s the trading equivalent of plotting your route to that taco stand across town—essential, rewarding, and worth it. Contrarian Perspective: Swimming Upstream The Forex market loves to deceive, and the rounding bottom often fools traders into thinking the pair is doomed to sideways purgatory. Truth is, most of the “casual crowd” isn’t even looking at CAD/CHF. They’re too busy buying into hyped pairs or getting burnt by sudden reversals. If you take a contrarian approach and give this pattern the attention it deserves, you’re setting yourself up for gains they won’t see coming. It's like finding an empty checkout line at the grocery store while everyone else waits for the self-service that’s inevitably malfunctioning—it feels like you’ve cracked the code. Hidden Patterns That Drive the Market The rounding bottom on CAD/CHF isn’t an anomaly—it’s part of a broader, hidden cycle. When a major currency pair like CAD/CHF starts rounding off its bottom, it's often a reflection of changing fundamentals in both the Canadian and Swiss economies. Dive into economic indicators, like PMI (Purchasing Managers Index) from Canada, and you’ll notice correlations that aren't coincidental. Understanding these indicators is like suddenly seeing the entire plot of a confusing movie—all those pieces start to fall into place. Speaking of economics, we can't forget the external factors. Market moves are often driven by forces behind the curtain—central banks, fiscal policies, changes in commodity prices. In particular, since Canada is resource-heavy, watch oil prices; any shifts there could impact the CAD, nudging the rounding bottom into a breakout. How to Predict Market Moves with Precision Let’s cut to the chase: while no one has a crystal ball (and if they did, it’s probably broken by now), there are ninja-level tactics for predicting the success of a rounding bottom breakout. First, always pair technical indicators with fundamental data—think of it as blending a healthy green smoothie with an espresso shot. MACD and RSI are your smoothie ingredients—showing you momentum shifts—but that real kick? Check economic reports like unemployment data or interest rate changes. CAD/CHF’s strength often hinges on macroeconomic stability. Here’s an insider tip: stay tuned for Swiss National Bank (SNB) interventions. They aren’t shy about meddling when the franc gets a little too popular. Being aware of such interventions gives you a peek behind the curtain, almost like being on the inside track of a surprise party. The One Simple Trick That Can Change Your Trading Mindset Patience. I know—it’s boring, right? But hear me out. The rounding bottom’s greatest strength is its ability to reward patient traders. Think of it as planting a seed. You don’t dig it up every few hours just to see if it's sprouting—you nurture it, water it, and let it bloom. So if you’re watching CAD/CHF make that slow, gradual turn upwards, resist the urge to get out too soon. One more piece of advice—track your trades. Using our free trading journal helps you see where patience has paid off before and how it can continue to be your secret weapon. (Shameless plug, but hey, it’s free and seriously handy). Check it out here: StarseedFX Trading Journal. The Bottom Line: Why the CAD/CHF Rounding Bottom Deserves Your Attention Don’t let this pattern slip through your fingers. CAD/CHF rounding bottoms are a reminder that sometimes the quiet, steady plays are the ones that bring the most reward. So next time you’re tempted to jump into the next hype-driven pair, remember—the market has hidden gems. With patience, some chart-watching skills, and a dash of humor to keep you sane, the rounding bottom can be a major opportunity just waiting for a savvy trader to come along. Oh, and before you go—check out our free trading plan to set your goals and keep yourself disciplined. Remember, you can’t win the race if you don’t have a finish line. Start now: StarseedFX Trading Plan. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated Read the full article

[dreamdaddymorpheus]

fire on fire | chapter. 04 | morpheus x scarlet witch!reader

pairing: morpheus x scarlet witch!reader (she/her) warning: sm*t, br*eding k*ink, no beta we die like jessamy a/n: you gotta listen to sam smith's fire on fire, i based their entire relationship on that one song lmao aa/n: my sincerest apologies to neil gaiman, please know that i wrote this with alot of love 😭🙏🏽 previous chapters: chapter. 01 | chapter. 02 | chapter. 03

“Fire on fire would normally kill us But this much desire, together, we're winners They say that we're out of control and some say we're sinners But don't let them ruin our beautiful rhythms 'Cause when you unfold me and tell me you love me And look in my eyes You are perfection, my only direction It's fire on fire.” – Fire on Fire, Sam Smith

Your relationship with the King of Dreams and Nightmares has always been a much-disputed subject amongst his siblings with the majority in opposition. If there was one thing, however, to unite them all it was the fact that Morpheus absolutely worshipped you. “Fire on fire, dear Morpheus, will kill you.” He recalled the unsolicited caution from his eldest sibling, voice as soul destroying as ever. Morpheus merely rolled his eyes at the time, petulant and arrogant, but this very moment, as he cradled your face in both hands with his lips in a desperate quest to claim yours, he couldn’t help but agree. You may kill him, indeed. To die between your thighs would be glorious – a life well spent, he thought.

His hands moved to rest on your waist as his lips slithers away from yours to leave a burning trail along your jaw down to the pulse on your neck, barely holding back a shudder from overtaking him at the way you sighed at his attentions. “We are not to be disturbed, Lucienne.” The order came from against your skin, unwilling to move and uncaring to ensure Lucienne gave them the privacy he demanded.

You heard the soft lulling sound of whirling sand before you felt the solid edge of his throne hit the back of your knees. “I thought I would never hold you again.” Morpheus whispered along the column of your throat, a touch of vulnerability overshadowing the deep hunger he felt building in the pit of his stomach. “I feared for humanity – for what I would have done to them.” Though the Endless restrained his whimpers rather well the wetness against your skin gave him away. “This madness you inspire in me would not have been merciful.” You slide your hand over the back of his neck until your fingers were partly obscured by his jet-black hair, tugging slightly at a handful as if to ground him back – back to you.

“For centuries I have denied who and what I am—“ Despair and anger bubbled in your throat in equal measure, “…pushed you away in my fear of the inevitable. Deprived myself of what rightfully belongs to me.” At this your free hand slides over his chest, clawing at the spot where his heart should be. You felt his growl ripple under your hand. “No more.” You murmured, low and airy with lust.

Morpheus truly intended to be gentle at first – but the way your scent, your warmth flooded his senses made it nigh impossible. His lips devoured yours in unrestrained lust, feeding selfishly on the soft, quivering moans that slipped past your lips. Your taste was so decadent and rare that his hunger only grew with each second, fuelling his madness. His fingers gripped the silky materials of your nightdress and with one quick tug had it discarded to the ground without even a single glance.

It thrilled him that you matched his lust, his bites, his growls with your own. Even in his war for dominance over you he couldn’t stop the way his heart swelled with love and delight. It filled him with so much pride that you refused to surrender. You were so beautiful, he thought. Untouched and unsullied for a century. A blank canvas, if you will – and oh how he ached to paint you with his marks again to further solidify his claim over your entire body and soul. There was no hope that this would be a tender lovemaking. He was far too starved for far too long.

The Endless allowed his hands to wander over the newly exposed flesh, growling as he rediscovered how soft and pliable you were. His hands moved up to trace the curves of your waist until they reached the roundness of your breast, his thumbs reaching out to draw teasing little circles over your hardened peaks, drawing out a soft cry from you.

When his ministrations suddenly stopped, he felt as well as heard your disappointment – but the Endless merely gave you a knowing smile before moving his hands to slide down your body, caressing from the dip of your waist to the flare of your hips, down, down, and down he went until he felt the wetness between your legs.

You were so wet. Morpheus could only snarl as the scent of your arousal hit his nose, completely and utterly intoxicating him. He parts your folds, searching for that sensitive little pearl that he knew would drive you to the same madness you rouse in him. He leans down to latch his mouth onto your breast as his fingers prevailed in its quest, circling the little nub until he felt your fingers dig into his shoulders, relishing the thought of your own markings on him. He would make good on his promise this day – fill you until you were full of his flesh and blood.

Morpheus felt his concentration escape him when the tip of his middle finger slipped inside your obscenely wet tightness. The heat of you almost sent him to his knees – no, heat was too mild a word. You were fire, a blazing inferno, and he craved, needed to feel you around him.

“I could scarcely think of little else all these years—” He gasped into your ear. “You feel…” Perfect, exquisite, all consuming, the words were simply far too inadequate to convey the true extent of his sentiment in regard to your sheath like quim. His finger starts its own rhythm, lazily moving in and out of your heat while his thumb amused itself by circling and flicking at your clit. Though he desired to hear your screams he contented himself with the way you seemed to be currently incapable of much else besides chanting his name like a prayer. A whisper at first, then a whine, soon a growl as your hips crashed against his fingers relentlessly as you attempt to chase your release. 

He watched in absolute awe as your face twist with pleasure, eyes fluttering close, swollen, bruised lips parting to let a desperate, wordless scream. Glorious.

Granting you no time to recover, Morpheus spun you both around and sat himself on his throne, pulling you to straddle over him. He needed to see it again lest he truly lose himself to his madness. Needed to see you come undone. On his cock.

“Tell me, my love,” He started with a teasing lilt to his voice, reaching down with one hand to free himself from his trousers, “In the imagined world I found you in, did my proxy please you?” He leans forward, pulling you impossibly closer with his other arm until you were chest to chest.

“Never.” You avowed without hesitation. Though you were deep in your delusions you could never betray Morpheus like that – your magic wouldn’t let you even if you tried. He was not just your paramour; he was one half of you. “But I did pleasure myself, if you were wondering.” At this you smirk, writhing on his lap to adjust yourself and then raising your hips slightly to hover above his cock until you felt the width of his hardness slide between your legs. “I only had to think of you, of our mischief, in this very spot in fact, or at the centre of Stonehenge, even the rather quick one against one of Lucienne’s many shelves,” You teased, eyes dancing with mischievous amusement.

“That was not a ‘quick one’.” Morpheus glared at you for that, taking mock offense at your implication. He did not take his time as he normally would in that particular memory, he admits, but he recalled being so desperate and hungry for a taste of you that he had you up and against a shelf, tomes forgotten on the table, and ate you out like a beggar at a feast.  

You merely chuckled in response, deliberately ignoring his interruption, and continued with your teasing, “My point is—I do not need a poorly made substitute of you to come undone. Just the thought of you is enough to end me.” You felt him harden even more at that – if that was even possible. He could probably leave a dent in your insides in his current state of arousal.

“Put an end to my misery, Y/N.” He begged hoarsely, and you obliged. You raised your hips, one hand sneaking between your bodies to guide his cock inside you. You watched as the King of Dreams threw his head back in pleasure, lips parted, eyes closed, savouring this feeling, this moment of being one with you once more. Inch by inch, taking your sweet time.

Morpheus could feel you twitch and stretch to accommodate his length, and the feeling of it could have consumed him – killed him, as Destiny so kindly cautioned him. Perhaps not quite the context meant, but he could have died happily like this. He felt you shudder when he was finally fully hilted inside you, your cunt rippling and shaping to his cock.

“You, my love, are the embodiment of sin.” The growl came rough and broken, his nails digging into the flesh on your hips, barely holding onto what sanity he had left to fend off the madness that threatened to take you like an animal. He didn’t have to wait long, it seems, as he could see the same desperation in him distorting your features. You tried to tease him and prolong his suffering, but he knew by the way you increased the beat of your movement that you were chasing your high as much as him. Not yet. Not until you’ve ridden him to his satisfaction, a compensation for your mischief.

Morpheus watched his beloved sob in frustration, riding him furiously and wildly, breasts bouncing with your every movement and beguiling him to suckle on a pebbled flesh, causing you to let out wonderful little whimpers. “P-Please, Morpheus—” You begged. At last, he felt you approaching your pinnacle, felt the familiar way your walls tightened around him. He slid one arm around your waist and grabbed a fistful of your hair with the other as he met your enthusiasm with equal fervour.

“Take it, my Queen.” Whether it was the relentless way he was thrusting into you or the sultry, throaty tone in which he uttered your soon to be title, but you came with a strangled cry, gasping and trembling violently. You heard him hiss into your ear as he too came spilling inside you, hissing through gritted teeth before you felt them clamp down on your shoulder. You sink into him, panting and relishing your high.

You heard that familiar sound of sand again and soon you felt the luxurious sensation of velvet hit your naked back. Above you was your lover, only better – without an inch of clothing on him.

“Again.” He demanded darkly; voice low yet no less commanding. The moment of confusion was soon clarified by the way his cock started to stiffen inside you again, as if that too was at his directive. “You will take my seed as many times as it’ll take.” He flipped you over and lured you onto your knees. “Morpheus—” You moaned, eyes hazy and vulnerable, but before you could say more you felt him pull you to the hilt of his cock. Your chanting of his name resumed, bracing yourself on your forearms and widening your stance. Yes, yes, yes, this—this felt like home. You felt his growl more than you heard it; your senses utterly skewed from his unwavering pounding. “You will be positively divine when you are round with our children.” He was incessant, single-minded in his quest to fill you with as much seed as your body could take.

Morpheus held you firmly in place by the hips as he fucked you with deep, claiming thrust, each movement hitting that throbbing bundle of nerves inside you. He would see you ruined for anyone but him. He jerked your head against his chest by the hair as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “You will make me a father, won’t you, my love?” When nothing came out of you but a strangled moan, Morpheus pulled harder, “Yes?”

“Y-Yes,” He delighted in the clear, wanton desperation lacing your voice, “Let no one doubt I am yours.” Morpheus growled at this, in absolute euphoria at the thought of marking you this way. His pounding slowed, purposeful and deep, grunting each time your flesh slapped against the base of his cock. Once. Then twice. The third one was what ended him, and you, as you both threw your heads back in unison and howled each other’s names.

Dream of the Endless watched his future Queen collapse tiredly on the bed, admiring your body flushed with desire, covered in a sheen of sweat, before gathering you gently in his arms and engulfing you in his warm embrace. He smiled adoringly as you gazed up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and returned the same smile, thoroughly sated.

“I hope it’s a girl.” You said quietly, shyly, then settled back against him with your face pressed against his heaving chest.

Morpheus didn’t think his heart could swell anymore for you, yet as he stared at you for the longest time, he was glad to be proven wrong.

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[wardenparker]

From Dorne, with Love - part 1

Oberyn Martell x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst​

Your little sister is marrying her fairy tale princess on the exotic desert island nation of Dorne. Your soon-to-be sister-in-law’s playboy uncle is the other member of the wedding party along with you, but will your opposite approaches to life drive you apart before the ceremony even begins? Or is it possibly the beginning of a future you never thought possible?

Rating: Mature, but please remember by whole blog is 18+ Word Count: 14k Warnings:  Some instances of reader being pig-headedly stubborn and some ‘ugly American’ moments, but we learn and grow in this house. Another one of our patented shitty families. Male nudity, just a sprinkling of MM shenanigans, mentions of bad break ups, mentions of infertility, some naughty teasing, cat lady jokes, food/alcohol consumption Summary: The day before your little sister’s wedding, you arrive at her fiancée’s family home - a palace in the exotic island nation of Dorne. An unconventional first meeting with her uncle, Prince Oberyn, has the potential to completely upend the way you’ve been living your life for years. Notes: I had a little daydream, and an Oberyn craving, and Keri is a beautiful soul who encourages my filthy thots. Although to be fair, this is pretty clean for an Oberyn fic. A big, bright and beautiful ✨Happy Birthday✨ to our man Pedro and the positivity he puts out into the world. Let’s all take that example to heart a little more and make 2022 brighter. 💖

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Epilogue

The car that picked you up from the airport - god what a glorious flight that had been, six hours of first-rate pampering thanks to Air Dorne's attentive staff - has been driving for an hour now when you finally get a glance of your destination outside the tinted windows. The Dornish coast is gorgeous, but you've been anxious to get a glimpse of the place you'll be staying this week for your little sister's wedding. 

The fact that Lily is getting married in the first place is a lot to absorb, even though the whole family loves her college girlfriend-now-fiancée. But this wasn't just any college girlfriend that your baby sister brought home for her first American Thanksgiving during their freshman year at Columbia. No, sweet and funny and crazy about your sister Aja Targaryen, is second in line to the throne of Dorne as a niece of the current king. Her uncles has insisted on throwing the wedding and hosting you and your parents at the castle known forbiddingly as the Old Palace just outside the capital of Sunspear for an entire week. The whole thing is a little surreal to you, but Lily is happy and ultimately that's really all you care about. 

A vacation isn't something you allow yourself anyway, as you have a business to help run in the middle of New York City. It's fast paced and demanding and you absolutely love it, but it doesn't give you a lot of time for a social life or relaxing. That is what this week is for - to relax. To relax and celebrate with your little sister as she marries the love of her life. 

At a palace.

Alright, maybe you're not totally relaxed about this.

******

The door to the palace opens before the crunch of the oyster shell gravel even comes to a stop as the tires of the car halt in front of the large circular driveway. While Doran had wanted to pave the drive, Oberyn had insisted that the traditional drive was both nostalgic and charming. The butler, decked out in the royal colors of yellow, orange and burnt red, opens the door. "Welcome to Sunspear, seat of House Martell." He bows respectfully as you emerge from the car.

“Um…thank you.” It’s all so intensely grand. Like a fantasy show and a Hallmark movie got smashed together and this is what erupted. You take the official invitation for the wedding out of your pocket and show it to the man in uniform. “I’m here for Princess Aja’s wedding. I—I’m the other bride’s sister.”

"Of course." Hobard has been well informed of family to arrive. "Princess Aja has arranged for you to stay in the East Wing, adjoining the family's private living quarters. I am instructed to inform you that her Highness and your sister had a last-minute detail to oversee and will greet you at the cocktail party this evening." He notes that your eyes widen slightly in panic at being alone in a strange place. "Prince Oberyn has graciously offered to keep you company if you wish. He is in the garden by the pool."

“Thank you.” The words stick a little but you are actually grateful - this man, whatever his job title actually is - isn’t condescending or snobby like you would expect from someone who is the first person to greet new arrivals at a literal palace. A younger man in a similar uniform emerges from the building and whisks away your suitcase, leaving you with no pretense to retreat to your room and you offer the man who greeted you a smile. “Would you point the way to the garden?” 

It won’t be so bad to meet Aja’s uncle. You had Googled him and found out about his military service and reputation as Dorne’s most legendary playboy along with finding plenty of paparazzi photos of him, but no personal details. The only personal details you know about him come from Aja when she tells stories about her family on the rare occasion you get to have down time with her and your sister.

"This way." He gives you a small nod and leads you into the house. The cool marble tiles on the floor echo as the two of you make your way through the large entry hall. The large, curved staircases to the left and right lead to the private wings. "Shall I offer you a refreshment?" He asks kindly, knowing that while you might have had a drink or two on the plane, the heat and arid climate of Dorne often works up a thirst in a lot of visitors.

“Thank you.” Accepting the offer gratefully since you haven't really processed the fact that you’re basically on a desert island before getting out of the car. You huff at yourself slightly and offer the man another smile as you walk alongside him. “I do know other words, I promise.”

"The Prince and his guest have been drinking Dirty Bananas." He smirks slightly, although you cannot see that. "Shall I make another pitcher, or would you prefer something lighter? Perhaps a frozen peach Bellini?"

“I don’t think I know what is in a Dirty Banana,” you admit, stifling a laugh at the ludicrous name. Mixology had never been your strong point even when you were building your skill set. “But Bellinis are my favorite. That’s very kind of you.”

After another few minutes, he comes to the large glass doors that lead to the famous Dornish Water Gardens. An oasis in the desert that is fed from a deep spring of fresh water and are absolutely breathtaking. "If you follow the path, miss, I will get started on your drink. Go past the privacy hedges that separate the gardens from the pool. You will find the prince there." He tells you as he opens the door for you.

“Thank you.” At least this time when you say it, he smiles too, and nods before he walks away to leave you alone in your way to the garden. Just this one scene in front of you is easily the most beautiful, most exotic sight you’ve beheld with your own eyes, and you always know you’ll be filling up your phone with photos this week even if you never leave the palace. 

Palace.

Of all the ludicrous things in the world, Lily went and fell in love with a princess whose family lives in a palace. You shake your head at that, crossing past the hedges into the legendary Dornish Water Gardens only to stop short the moment you focus on the people lounging by the pool: two completely nude men sipping cocktails and making out under the hot sun.

******

Oberyn cups the back of Selvin's head, tilting it exactly how he wants as his tongue slides into his mouth for another kiss. Groaning slightly at the enthusiasm of the man's eager response. He hums, exploring for a few more seconds before he pulls away, dark eyes watching as the other man's flutter open slowly with a small smirk on his face. "Relaxed, no?" He purrs before he lays back on his own lounger and picks up the half melted frozen cocktail that had a double entendre for the day. "I told you that you would forget your worries today."

As if this moment couldn't get any more awkward for you, the lithe blonde man who apparently was forgetting all his worries today hums out a very amused sound and nudges the figure of the man you recognize from photographs as Prince Oberyn Martell. "My prince," he nearly giggles. "We have an audience."

Oberyn turns his head towards you, lowering his dark aviator sunglasses and peers over them at you. “Ahhhhh, the illusive sister.” He sets his drink down and rises from his seat. “You have arrived.”

"I–" Yeah...yeah...you have arrived. But you aren't nearly as arrived as he is, with his perfectly darkened skin devoid of tan lines and his - yep, that is his penis - swinging free in the breeze as he sways toward you. Your throat runs dry immediately, all of that moisture shooting directly south to pool at the apex of your thighs because holy shit, no photograph in the world has ever done this man justice, but you have to shake that off just as quickly to have any hope of getting your composure back. "I was told to–" Come on, get your shit together. "Prince Oberyn, I presume?"

"Lover." Selvin chides Oberyn, making him pause and turn back towards the other man. "She's American." He huffs, glancing down pointedly at his nude body and then back at you. "I fear she is about to melt under the Dornish sun from embarrassment."

"It's fine." You insist, studiously forcing yourself to only look each man in the face, but you can hear exactly how unconvincing you sound.

"See, it is fine." Oberyn hums, even as he turns around to give you a view of his ass as he walks over to a table and picks up a buttery yellow sarong to tie around his lean hips. "She is the maid of honor, where I am the man of honor of Aja. It is tradition we sleep together, no? She is just getting a preview of what to expect." He smirks in amusement as he ties off the wrap and starts walking back over you in order to greet you properly.

Every trendy idiot walking around Williamsburg in what they called genderfluid clothing to be hip would be put to shame by the utter beauty of the man in front of you - silky fabric hugging his hips better than the most expensive designer skirt ever seen on a runway model. You're so distracted by the beauty in front of you that you barely even heard him make the comment about sleeping together and it registers a second too late, as he is reaching for you with both hands. "I'm sorry, we what?"

"I know I am not mistaken." Oberyn tells you with a smirk as he leans down to press his lips against your cheek, one then the other. "I have attended many weddings and there is always a hurried fuck in the coat closet between the best man and maid of honor." After he kisses your cheeks, he takes your hand and brings it up to his lips to kiss the back of it. "Unless you don't wish to fuck a prince?" He asks, arching an eyebrow as he looks up at you.

"I hadn't ever considered it a possibility." You admit, so bewildered by the seeming offer that you're probably not even processing it properly. His reputation as an indiscriminate lover was apparently true, but in such a dramatic way that it feels a little like being thrown into a farce. "I'm just here for my sister. Anything else is...well, I don't have any expectations, I guess."

Oberyn smirks, glancing at your outfit and tutting slightly. "Your outfit will make you roast out in this sun." He keeps your hand in his and he turns to guide you towards the shaded area. "Has Hobard offered you a drink? We are having Dirty Bananas." He chuckles, "Chocolate mudslides with bananas, if you would like to sample mine."

"Everything is taken care of, sire." Hobard appears from nowhere, rescuing you from having to reply, and bearing a tray with a frosted pitcher of frozen Bellinis and icy cold glass. "The lady's things have been set out in the Iris Room when she is ready to go inside."

"Perfect!" Oberyn gives a pleased grin and winks at you. "You are across the hall from me. If you get scared, just crawl into my bed, Iris." 

Selvin laughs behind him, getting up from his own chair and wrapping a towel around his waist. "I must go, I have to actually do some work." He pouts, wishing he could say and see how many mortified faces you will make under Oberyn's blatant flirting. Not many people can withstand him for long and it's always interesting to see how quickly they give in.

The men bid each other an affectionate goodbye and Hobard disappears back into the palace as quickly as he had appeared, leaving you alone with the relentless Prince Oberyn and a fresh pitcher of frozen alcohol. "Your friend seems very nice," you offer, reaching for the glass on the tray that Hobard left behind for you. Something tells you that being stone cold sober around the prince - a fucking real life prince - is only going to leave you confused and flustered.

"He does, doesn't he?" He observes, wondering if you are timid or just unsure of yourself as he strides over to the pitcher that Hobard had left and picks it up to pour you drink. He fills the glass to the very top carefully. "But I'm more interested in how nice you are." He says with a smirk.

"Do you always choose your next conquest before discarding the previous?" It isn't meant to sound harsh, but the comeback whips out of your mouth at full speed like you're warding off coeds in a Manhattan dive bar.

Oberyn cocks his head at you in surprise. Obviously not the shy wallflower he was starting to suspect you of being, which will make things infinitely more interesting this week. "Selvin is...friendly, yet casual." He tells you. "The lure of having a prince as a lover is what he wished for, and he gets, when the urge strikes."

“I didn’t—” The instinctive desire to evaporate is definitely there, but he doesn’t seem upset about being sassed at all. “I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just…not something I’m used to. Maybe that’s just very American of me, I don’t know.”

"Men fucking each other?" Oberyn asks, amused at the way that your eyes show your complete mortification and wish to have the earth open up and swallow you. "Or being casual about pleasure?" His eyes flicker down to your lips as he reaches over and plucks a berry from a bowl on the table, lifting it up to his own lips to slip it inside his mouth.

“My sister is a lesbian,” you remind him with one nearly raised eyebrow. “I don’t care about anybody’s sexual orientation.” Swallowing an exasperated sigh, you take a long sip from your drink and shake your head a little to let the cobwebs lose. Getting combative because you were taken off guard is not the first impression on your sister’s future in-laws you want to make, and you have no business walking into someone else’s home and judging them for how they behave in it. “I apologize,” you tell him, rolling your shoulders back gently. “Starting a bickering match is not the first impression I wanted to make, and you haven’t done anything besides be welcoming. Can we start over?”

Pouting, Oberyn swallows the berry and hums, stepping around you and lowering his mouth to your ear. "My dear Iris, perhaps bickering is foreplay?" He murmurs. "Stirs the blood. Are you sure you wish to start over?"

The reality of the situation, you realize when you shiver a little at his breath on your neck, is not a terrible one. A prince - widely regarded as one of the sexiest men in the world - is flirting with you. You. Just some nobody that people pay to cook for them. By his standards you probably qualify as a servant, but somehow you don’t think he would care even if he knew that. Isn’t this most people’s dream? If you kicked back in your own mind, didn’t it used to be your fantasy? “Maybe not.” When you finally get the words out, they sound much more confident than you feel. Good. “Just know that I wasn’t judging anything. Just taken off guard.”

"Good. You should never limit pleasure." Oberyn coos, not missing the shiver that had raced across your skin even with the warm temperatures. "And seek it wherever you can." He wraps his hand around yours holding the glass and pulls the sweating drink towards your mouth. "Drink up little Iris. You seem hot."

If you were this affected by some random guy in a bar being this forward with you, you would be embarrassed for yourself, but there is something about it that completely flips when it’s out in the burning sunshine of a palace garden in exotic Sunspear. “So you’re Aja’s man of honor?” You ask, gratefully following his direction to take a sip of your drink.

"I am." He lets go of your hand and ambles around you to pluck another berry out of the bowl by the pool. "My little niece is my favorite. I have loved her since chasing after her in nappies through these halls when she was a baby."

“She’s very sweet.” Not having him next to you makes it a little easier to breathe, almost like if he gets too close you might get pulled irrevocably into his orbit the way the blonde man from earlier has. “Since the first time Lily brought her home to meet our parents, we’ve all completely adored her. They’re great together.”

"Aja can charm anyone." Oberyn boasts proudly, as if he were her father instead of her uncle. Perhaps it is because his oldest daughter is just a little behind her. He had started procreating young, much to his mother's disapproval. "And your sister is her perfect match."

“Aja is charm and Lily is enthusiasm.” Your little sister’s unabashed love of life and positivity is the root of her bubbly personality and it’s also part of what her friends love about her. “But she didn’t give us too many pieces of insight into Dornish weddings. She just said they wanted to surprise us.” Which Oberyn had certainly done all on his own.

"Well, I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, now would I?" Oberyn shoots you a grin and picks up his own frozen drink. "Although tonight will be the cocktail party. The first of many events for the week."

You should have known he would be one for teasing and clever reveals, and it makes you smile despite yourself. “I just want everything to be perfect for them,” you clarify. “I know about the cocktail party, and that the wedding is supposed to go from sundown tomorrow to sunup the next morning. And Lily said something about fireworks. But that’s all.”

"Everything will be perfect." Oberyn assures you. "Your presence is all that is needed for that." He winks and takes a sip of his drink. "Just make sure that you have properly stretched."

“That sounds…intriguing.” And slightly forbidding, if you’re honest with yourself. But you simply sip your drink and file Oberyn’s wink away as something you’ll be describing to your friends back home in great detail when the week is over.

“We will have to make sure that you experience everything Dorne has to offer.” Oberyn decides with an easy smile. “I would hate for you to think us poor hosts.”

“I don’t think there’s any chance of that.” Walk in the door and have your own pitcher of your favourite cocktail on hand and then get an eyeful of the single most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life? Yeah…Dorne definitely made a better first impression on you than you did on it. “What would you recommend I see before the week is over?” Surely he - a man who has lived here presumably most if not all of his life - has a better handle on what must be seen that tourism websites.

“The ceiling in my suite is stunning.” Oberyn jokes, enjoying the way that your eyes cut away bashfully. “A tour of the Water Gardens is of course a must, with a lover of course.” 

“Your Highness,” it feels so odd to call someone that in real life, but - well - that is who he is. “I don’t want to disappoint you, but I’m not in the market for a lover.” After years of people getting fed up that your work was your priority, men who hated that you had a mind of your own and women who packed their things up and left when you went out of the apartment every morning to work two jobs instead of playing hooky, you had decided to just throw up your hands. It wasn’t worth the heartache anymore.

That makes Oberyn frown, looking you up and down with disappointment written all over his face. “How do you relax if not allowing a lover to suck on your clit until you are shaking with pleasure? Or fucking you until your body is limp from cumming so much?” He cannot even fathom such a life, there being too many forms of pleasure in the world. “Not yearning for a lover to caress your skin and hold you close with their lips pressed to yours.” He tuts again.

You nearly snort, banishing the very visceral way your body reacts to the images he paints by having another sip of your drink. “According to my last girlfriend, I don’t relax.”

“Then you are not being fucked properly.” Oberyn huffs, shaking his head. The mention of a girlfriend makes him think that you are not attracted to men. He tilts his head. “I know a gorgeous creature that would make you forget all your worries if pussy is what you prefer.”

“It’s not that. And it’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer.” Even if it is a little strange to you, for a virtual stranger to be so preoccupied with your sex life, you can see how it is actually a thoughtful offer if pleasure is what you’re life is focused around. Which his seems to be. “It just…never works out.”

Oberyn shrugs, unwilling to push further. You seem firm in your refusal of his advances and despite his amorous reputation, he does not persist when the answer is no. “Then it’s because they didn’t want it to work, or you didn’t.” He quips before he motions over to the chairs in the shade. “Sit so you do not get overheated. It is change from your climate.”

“When I left New York there was still snow in the ground.” You snort a little, settling yourself in one of the shaded chairs with your glass and choosing to ignore his observation about your lack of a love life. “Has Dorne ever seen snow? Even a freak dusting?”

Oberyn laughs, shaking his head. “Not that I’ve ever read in our history books.” He admits. “Unless you count the snow we truck in for the kids to have snowball fights with in winter. Indoors of course.”

“You’re not missing anything.” His laugh is rich and throaty and addictive, and you find yourself smiling unconsciously. “Icy sidewalks and mud mixing with snow to make slush, and the accidents when the storms are bad.” You take another sip of your drink and shake your head. “Snow is the best when you can watch it falling outside the window. If I could find a busy city like New York in a climate like this? I don’t think I’d ever leave.”

“Is the energy you seek?” He asks curiously. “Or the employment? You are a chef, yes?”

“Both, I think.” You can’t remember if you said something or he heard something from Aja, but either way, he’s correct. “I like to be busy, and New York definitely gives me that. But it isn’t the only place in the world for a chef, or even to open a restaurant one day.” But restaurants take money - far more money than you have managed to save working your way up in the kitchen at the little Italian place you’ve worked for years upon years now while living in one of the most expensive cities in the world.

“Are you good?” Oberyn asks, curious to see how you would describe yourself.

That makes you grin, your lips curling up at the edges. You may not have confidence in every part of your life, but you definitely do about your food. “I could always cook for you, and you can decide yourself,” you offer, knowing you have plenty of tricks up your sleeves.

Oberyn smirks, wanting you to offer. It had been his goal when he asked you the question. “I will show you the kitchens.”

“Now?” There’s supposed to be a party in just a few hours and a damn wedding tomorrow and you know they’ll be busy - it would be professional ass hole behavior to barge in on them now of all times. But for all you know, this palace has six different kitchens depending on what meal it is and who is at home.

“We only have right now. The family suite has a kitchen.” Oberyn clarifies. “Unless you wish to relax?”

“Cooking is relaxing.” It’s something that is completely true for you, and most people really can’t wrap their heads around. Twelve hour shifts at the restaurant at nonstop speeds are exhausting, sure. But you still go home and lovingly cook yourself small meals using all the same methods to center yourself again.

“Excellent.” Oberyn purrs. “I can show you where you will be sleeping, and you can relax.”

“Sounds perfect.” The itch in your fingers from not having cooked yet today will be banished and you couldn’t be happier. Most people like to be waited on, but you can’t stand the feeling of idleness. “Lead the way, your Highness.”

Oberyn picks up the pitcher of Bellinis and carries it with him, turning and holding out his arm. “My lady.” It's a test, to see how rigid you actually are. Lily complains that you don't experience life enough, not living in the moment. He can already see that, but he wants to see if perhaps you just have to know how to entice you.

There is a moment of hesitation on your part, a moment where you look at the statuesque man barely covered by a single length of billowing fabric with a sultry smile on his lips, and you shrug internally. Putting your hand on his arm is not the same as agreeing to sleep with him, although the softness of him and heat radiating from his skin could give anyone other ideas fairly easily. 

As you stroll along the paths back to the palace, Oberyn starts giving you a knowledgeable lecture on the history of the Water Gardens. Telling you how they were constructed by his ancestors hundreds of years before, an oasis in the desert island's landscape that acted as a respite for the inhabitants of Dorne, providing water and fruits and how the city of Sunspear was built up around it. 

“I think the most important thing my ancestors ever did was move from New Jersey,” you joke, giving one more look to the gardens before letting the prince draw you inside the cool walls of the palace. “Except Lily, of course. Her research is extraordinary.”

"And you?" Oberyn asks, turning. his head to the side to glance at your profile. "What mark do you wish to leave on the world?"

“You mean do I want to be a celebrity chef with a tv show, four cookbooks, and a reservation book packed full for a year in an advance?” The idea makes you laugh a little, but mostly out of self-consciousness in the moment. You would love those things, but if they never happened it wouldn’t be the end of your world. They’re difficult goals to achieve and require connections - connections you just don’t have. “I want people to have good memories. An important conversation had over a meal they’ll never forget. Wedding guests who still talk about the hors d’oeuvres for years afterward. A dish of pasta that transports you to Sicily from your seat.” You offer him a smile that is completely unguarded. “If somebody wanted to make me famous because they loved my food so much? That would be a very good memory.”

Oberyn hums, absorbing your desires and analyzing them. "You like to please people." He observes. "You are a nurturer even though you don't think yourself one. Give them what they need even if they don't realize it."

“Everyone needs to eat.” You raise an eyebrow at him as he steers you toward an elaborate grand staircase. “Food should sustain and inspire. Like you say: you should never limit pleasure. I just apply that philosophy to my food.”

"Too bad you do not apply that to everything in your life." Oberyn muses, as he starts up the stairs with you. "Food and fucking go hand in hand, can be very pleasurable together."

“You sound like my sister.” And it makes you laugh despite yourself. “Lily is my biggest cheerleader, but she’s also the biggest nudge in my life.” Well, maybe that title is actually your mother’s, but isn’t that every mother’s right?

"I am a father to eight daughters." Oberyn chuckles. "I am sure some of their impetuousness has rubbed off on me."

“Eight?” Stopping dead in your tracks at the high number, you manage to recover just a second later and pick your jaw up off the marble floor, but it’s too late to hide that reaction. “Sorry, I just…um, that’s a lot. And you definitely don’t look old enough to have that many kids.”

Oberyn agrees with you, at least on eight children being a lot. "I fathered the first when I was 14." He explains. "Indiscretions of youth. Though I counsel my girls to use caution. Eight children, four mothers." A flash of melancholy races across his face. "The youngest girls’ mother and I parted ways two years ago. Amicably, of course, however I miss the sounds of them racing through the halls year-round. The older girls are at school." 

“I hadn’t even had my first kiss at fourteen.” You try not to stare but that is an incredibly young age to become a parent for the first time - and yet also somehow the fact that he clearly cares for all of them and their mothers is making him that much more attractive to you? That has to be the ticking biological clock… “I’m…I’m sorry you split up, though. Break ups are hard. Even harder when kids are involved.” 

Oberyn looks over at you with a small nod. "Ellaria and I were good together, but better as friends." He tells you. "We love one another, that will never change, but our paths are different, and we must follow them. Our children will never suffer because we no longer share a bedroom." 

“Do you get to see them?” You ask quietly, not really paying attention to the halls or rooms you pass by as he leads you deeper into the palace.

"As often as I wish." Oberyn smiles. "Aja and Lily wished for a child-free wedding and so they are with their mother, they will be back at the palace in three days’ time. You will be able to meet them then if you wish." He chuckles. "It's just that a father wishes to never have his children sleep under another roof, even boarding schools.”

“Is that where the older ones are? Boarding school?” Lily and Aja choosing to have an adults-only event is something you know Lily has struggled with so you don’t pursue that part of the conversation. Your sister’s inability to conceive children and the way she struggled with it until Aja came along and reminded her that motherhood is not equal to womanhood (despite what your parents say), is a journey all her own.

"Obara, the oldest, is in college." He boasts proudly, puffing his chest out slightly. "Final year, she's graduating a year earlier than her classmates. The other three are in a preparatory school in Switzerland and the youngest three are living with their mother in a house three kilometers from here.” 

Four children with one woman and they only just split up? Yeah…you would be naked by the pool with a fuck buddy too, if you were him. “You’re very proud of them.” Is the observation you make out loud, not wanting to insert your foot into your mouth at all. “That’s wonderful.”

"They are my children." Oberyn tells you simply, guiding you down the hall towards the large suite that has been his since he was a young man. Set up as a family apartment, it is a complete house with a kitchen and family area designed in the middle of the bedrooms to house his large brood when they are at the palace. "I am proud of them no matter what they choose in life."

“Then you’re not just proud, but also a good father.” And you don’t know why exactly you hadn’t been sure of that before now, but here it is in front of you. 

Physically in front of you is an enormous apartment that seems to go on forever, and though everything is opulent it seems also to be built for comfort. Even though it’s clean there is evidence of his kids everywhere - from toys to cabinets full of movies and games to the photos hanging on his walls. One in particular is set at center stage, and the reason why is immediately obvious. It is a party, with balloons in various colors bearing what you suppose was his age at the time, 35, and presents and a cake in the background even though you can tell this photograph was taken in the Water Gardens as you wander closer to it. Oberyn stands in the middle of a veritable army of girls who are all decked out with flowers in their hair and beaming smiles. The youngest - still a baby here, is asleep in his arms. “They’re beautiful.” You hum, feeling drawn in by the photo instead of like an observer. The young woman to Oberyn’s left is mid-laugh and clinging to his other arm. “Is that Obara? She looks exactly like you.”

Oberyn gazes at the photo with a soft smile on his face. "That is Obara." He chuckles and gestures towards the photo. "My little sand snakes. Nicknamed so because they are always slithering about and getting into mischief as children should." He points out each individual girl. "Nymeria, Tyene, Sarella, Elia, Obella, Dorea, and the baby is Loreza."

That internal tug somewhere deep behind your heart pulls at you and makes you look away, forcing down the way so many beautiful smiling faces make you melancholy for being without a family of your own. You had made the choice that your career came first and now you were living with that - no use getting upset about it now. “So,” you drain the last sip of your drink from the glass in your hand and make yourself smile. “I think you were going to let me cook for you?”

"Yes." Oberyn's eyes light up with giddy anticipation and he steers you towards his personal kitchen. "Your sister has raved over your skills in the kitchen." He keeps the fridge stocked and wonders what you will chose to make for him with what is on hand. "Make yourself comfortable and use whatever you wish."

“I started cooking to take care of me and Lils after school because our parents always worked long hours. So the first things I learned were her favourite foods.” The watch on your wrist reads just after one in the afternoon and the cocktail party isn’t for hours, so you’re racking your brain for lunch ideas when you walk into the large kitchen just a step behind him. There’s a small gasp on your lips - you were expecting it to be nice but not for him to have a Viking stove and marble counter tops with sleek, shiny stainless-steel appliances tucked into every corner like an Easter egg hunt. This is the sexiest private kitchen you’ve ever seen and you get to cook in it. “Okay.” You’re like a kid in a candy store as you start to poke through his cupboards, looking to see what sort of things he usually eats to figure out what classics of your repertoire he might like.

He doesn't leave you to get acquainted with his kitchen, instead he opens the fridge to grab a bowl of grapes, grinning like a schoolboy as he hops up on the counter and watches you with unabashed curiosity.

The idea forms when you notice a jar of estratto di pomodoro and another of pine nuts in his cupboard. Gathering those two things along with a container of golden raisins, you poke around for a box of dry pasta but see a large container of semolina flour instead. Fresh pasta it is, you think with a smirk as you gather that and the pasta roller sitting next to it, as well. He’s going to get one of your favourite meals of all time, and he doesn’t even know it yet. “Do you have a special place to keep bread in?” You ask him, already making your way to the refrigerator to see if you really can fill this meal out the way you always make it for yourself. Pasta c'anciuova e muddica atturrata is always best, in your opinion, with some kind of fish.

"There is a bread box in the pantry." Oberyn tells you before he pops a few grapes in his mouth, looking at the ingredients that you are piling onto the island counter. "The cabinet next to the fridge is actually a pantry."

“This?” The door handle you have your hand on gives easily when he nods, and you set your armload from the cupboards down on the counter beside him to peak in - expecting a small, well-concealed pantry of basics. What you’re faced with, though, is a walk-in closet for gourmet foods, opposite a wall of neatly stacked and organized wine bottles. On the shelf by your head is a tool you drool over in the restaurant - a bit of genius in the form of a product that allows for a glass of wine to be poured from a bottle without removing or compromising the cork. The bottle is effectively unopened and lasts considerably longer even though it has been poured from. It’s like paradise in a kitchen pantry, and you snag the Coravin tool and a bottle of Tuscan wine you recognize along with a full container marked Fresh Breadcrumbs. Bellinis are delicious, but the wine will go much better with this small meal you’re now even more excited to cook. “Your chef must love this set up,” you remark in wonder when you emerge.

"Chef?" Oberyn narrows his eyes slightly in confusions as he cocks his head. "The palace chef, you mean?" He gives a small shrug. "He has never been in my kitchen. This is my private space for cooking meals for family and lovers." 

“This is all for you? Seems like being royalty has benefits after all.” You shake your head at the thought and put the other pantry supplies down on his counter venue moving to the refrigerator. After a quick survey you nearly cheer in victory, coming out with a few large sardines, half a lemon, and a bundle of fresh Italian parsley. Combining all of this with the olive oil, onions, and garlic you saw on the counter will make a masterpiece. “Are you sure it’s okay to use all this?”

Oberyn waves his hand dismissively, "use whatever you wish." He tells you, hopping down off the counter and walking around you. The comment about royalty irked him and he would rather not get into a spat with the maid of honor before the wedding. Choosing to give you the space for a moment before he lets his famously short temper get the best of him. "Excuse me, I have a small matter than I need to address.

“Sure.” His tone changed, and you’re not sure you like it - wondering for a moment if you really were going too far out this was all to placate you. No. Stop overthinking. Just do your thing. You tell yourself, setting to work on your aromatics.

Striding into his bedroom, he unties the sarong and flings it into the laundry before he walks into the en-suite to shower off the pool water and remaining traces of his lover. He tries to remind himself as he showers, that most Americans were judgmental and set in their viewpoints. Not all were as free spirited as your sister and it seems that you might just be one of those people, although for some reason, it was disappointing. Lily had talked about you so much that Oberyn had looked forward to meeting the older sister and now he wasn't quite sure what to do with you. Dressing in stylish, yet comfortable clothes - white linen pants and a shirt that is burnt orange with the suns of Dorne designed on it, he makes his way back to the kitchen.

******

Somewhere around the time your pasta dough started to come together, your thoughts did too, and you had audibly groaned at yourself. Open mouth, insert foot. Another reason you couldn’t keep a man, according to your mother. “I’m sorry.” Your head pops up from wrapping the dough to set aside when he walks back in, and you nearly blurt it out at him. “I didn’t mean to be rude. What I was trying to say is that if this was an alternate universe and I was royalty, this would be my favorite part about living in a palace. But only because I would be garbage at running a country.” You huff at yourself slightly. “Clearly. I can’t go ten minutes without accidentally insulting my host.”

His eyebrow wings up at your apology and he studies you for a moment. "It is okay, Iris." He reassures you. "I did not wish to treat you to the barbed edge of my tongue, so I decided that I would shower and put on clothes so you would not take us all for hedonistic barbarians."

“You’re not. A barbaric person is someone who is uncivilized. Right now that’s definitely me, not you, so I apologize.” He can think whatever he wants of you - correct or incorrect - and it won’t matter past this week. But Lily and Aja are moving back to Dorne soon and you would hate for a bad opinion of you to reflect on your angel of a little sister. 

It takes an adult to apologize for the missteps that have occurred, but he admires you for it. "I apologize for making you uncomfortable." Oberyn tells you. "I fear that when I see a gorgeous woman, or man, especially one that I have heard so many wonderful things about, I tend to be too forward." He gives a small smile. "However, your disinterest is noted so do not fear that you will be accosted all week."

Did he just — gorgeous? Seriously? It takes everything in you to not spontaneously combust at that, but only a second later you register a flash of disappointment that you hadn’t anticipated. It’s not that you wouldn’t be interested, but it’s not worth it. It would be like the time a one-night stand you picked up at the bar had turned out to be the new dishwasher at the restaurant: intensely awkward and not worth the memories. That was seven years ago, and you hadn’t had a one-nighter since. “I just…” Your hands work automatically, cleaning up after the pasta making and finding a knife and board to fillet the fish. You don’t even know why you’re telling him all this, except maybe that now you’re oversharing so he won’t think you’re being judgmental again. “I’m not great at communicating, as you have probably noticed. And a little vacation fling is…they’re great for some people. But that’s a whole lot of opening up to someone very quickly and I’m not any good at that. It has nothing to do with you.”

"That's the beauty of it, no?" He asks, picking up the glass that had been left out from his drink and taking it over to the sink. "You get to be whoever you want the other person to see. "Bold, adventurous, fearless." He hums as he starts washing it for the staff to take back to the main kitchens and reaches for your glass as well. "Everything you want but are unable to maintain in your day to day."

Fearless. The notion seems insane to you, mostly because you’re a fairly cautious person. The only time you have any sort of adventure is with your food. “That’s who I am when I cook.” You tell him, deciding to be honest. “Lovers have expectations. Ingredients don’t.”

"Yes, they do." Oberyn argues with you, holding up the bulb of garlic that you haven't used. "This garlic expects you to use it properly. Aromatics expect to be used to enhance a dish and not burn them to make them acrid." He puts it down. "If your lovers are expecting things beyond what they can give you, then you have been choosing bad lovers. The point of being a lover is accepting what they give you and what you want to give to them." He has already accepted that you are not going to sleep with him, but if he can make you look at love differently, perhaps your next lover would benefit.

“If that’s true, then I’ve just never picked the right person.” There’s a melancholy in your voice that you can’t banish fast enough, and you glance at the contemplative expression on Oberyn’s face briefly before setting aside the two perfectly fileted sardines to wash your hands again. “Maybe I’ll just be a spinster. That would thrill my parents.”

"Fuck your parents." Oberyn huffs, shrugging his shoulders. He had not been impressed with the notion that Lily was supposed to give them a grandchild and the bitterness when they learned that she couldn't. "Live your life how you see fit and make no apologies." He lifts a finger. "However, live a life that on your deathbed, you have few regrets." 

A life of regrets is something you were trying to avoid when you left four-year college for culinary school and spent years learning your craft, but you had ended up with others along the way. That was inevitable in life, you supposed, but it still stung. “I can see why raja thinks the world of you,” you tell him, picking up the garlic he had been brandishing at you earlier. “Not everyone is lucky enough to have such a supportive family.”

"No, I guess not." Oberyn understands that he is very lucky to live in a place where he is afforded to live how he wishes. "However, your sister is becoming family, so in a distant - we can still sleep together kind of way - you are family." He can't help but tease you just a bit more, especially since he knows you are aware he will not push you. Giving you a playful wink and smirk when you look at him.

“My sister-in-law’s uncle?” You have to laugh at that, shaking your head as you carefully dice the garlic. “No, I guess that’s not anything official, is it?”

"No, it's not." Oberyn moves over to the fridge and starts to pull out ingredients to whip up one of his favorite simple desserts. He wants you to try something of his.

“Have a sudden inspiration?” It happens to you all the time - you start out cooking one thing and end up with ideas for a week. Even fully clothed he moves like a dance, and you have to wonder briefly if turning him down will turn out to be one of those deathbed regrets you’re sure to have. 

"Making a dessert that will pair nicely with the ingredients you are using." Oberyn tells you with a smirk as he walks into the pantry and comes out with a bottle of Limoncello.

“It’s a good thing we’re hours away from eating again, because this is turning into a whole meal.” This is the only area - besides being your sister’s number one fan - where your enthusiasm tends to run amok. You really are making him an entire lunch, even if it’s delicious peasant food.

"You will be asking me for this recipe." Oberyn tells you smugly, knowing that it will whet your palate and make you moan at the silky smoothness of it.

“Oh, will I?” You narrow your eyes at him, pride and playfulness in your own abilities blooming to the surface. “Are you willing to bet on that?” It’s something you do with the other line cooks at the restaurant all the time and you don’t even think about it before the words are out of your mouth.

A sly grin crosses his face, sensing your competitiveness coming to the surface. "Absolutely." He hums, setting the bottle down and leaning against the counter. "What are your terms if you don't?" He asks, wanting to know your prize if you are not impressed with his dessert.

You bite the inside of your lip, considering several possibilities with amusement while you clean and slice an onion. “You have to spend a day showing me around Sunspear wearing the absolute worst outfit I can possibly pick out for you.” It’s nothing humiliating or humbling, just silly and an offering of friendship. A story to tell. A memory to hold. But you will definitely take a picture of this stylish man in a terrible outfit.

"Agreed." There are worse wagers for a bet, and he smirks. "If you want the recipe...I get to kiss you." He challenges, lifting a brow at you to see if you will refuse.

You all but roll your eyes at him, seeing the good-natured angle in it but knowing that all you have to do is not ask for his recipe and it will float away again. “Deal.” With your hands outstretched to him, you are more than prepared to let a friendship blossom. For Lily’s sake, of course. And not at all because you just snuck a peak at his soft, seemingly perfect lips through his smirk. Nope. Not at all.

“Fantastic.” Oberyn takes your hand and shakes it firmly before he brings it up to kiss the back of it again. “Prepare to be amazed.” He warns you playfully. He lets go of your hand and starts pulling out mixing bowls and the tools he needs, completely familiar with his kitchen and where everything is. Showing you that he does in fact cook.

There’s a sense of calm as you work side by side, absorbed in what you are doing but not ever ignoring each other. Oberyn tells you stories about Aja as a girl - she is good friends with some of his daughters, apparently - and you trade him for stories of Lily from growing up. Sometimes he’ll ask about an ingredient you have out on the counter, but mostly he just watches curiously and you sneak peaks his way when you think he’s not looking.

Limoncello mousse is a simple, yet incredible dessert. Needing only a few ingredients to be delicious and tart. The perfect ending to a savory meal. He whips the egg whites until they are frothy and foamy before he mixes it into the mascarpone and limoncello mixture. Dividing it into four ramakins to set inside his blast chiller to set in time to eat.

The time flies - it always does when you’re enjoying yourself like this - and before long you’re scooping curly busiate noodles out of their water and into the gorgeous red sauce composed of anchovies, estratto, onions, garlic, and breadcrumbs and adding more breadcrumbs long with toasted pine nuts and golden raisins. The sardine fillets have been sautéed in olive oil and lemon juice and dressed with parsley, and lunch is about to be served. “Would you pour the wine?” You ask him, fully absorbed in bringing the pasta dish together. Its salty, sweet, savory, unctuous goodness is your favorite meal in the world Aster the first time you had it in Sicily and you can’t wait for him to try it.

“Already done, Iris.” Oberyn motions over to the table he had set while you had been absorbed in the finishing the exquisite smelling dish you were serving him. He had quietly placed two setting and poured glasses of wine for the two of you. The mousse was still setting up and would stay in the chiller until it was time to eat them. He had even come along and taken the discarded tools and washed them, leaving just the final pans to be cleaned.

“Sorry — I mean…thanks.” Shrugging at him slightly, you bring the big pan over to the two plates you’ve been fixing and dole out the pasta. “You’re three steps ahead of me while I was in my own little world.”

“It was interesting to watch you work.” Oberyn tells you. “You have a habit of sticking your tongue out while you work. I wonder how many times a colleague has put a lemon on it.”

“Not very often.” You set the plates down in the two places he set at the long table under the windows on the far side of the kitchen. It must be big enough for all his girls and their mothers to sit down together, because it is huge - making your two little settings at the end look slightly comical. “Chef still does it from time to time. Which is better than when he first hired me, and it was whatever random ingredient was nearby that he ended up accosting me with.”

Snorting in amusement, he pulls out your chair for you sit down, motioning to it when you just stare at him for a second.

Right. Just because no one’s ever done this for you before doesn’t mean no one ever does it anywhere. You thank him quietly and sit, happy to see that he doesn’t stand in ceremony and takes a sip from his wine as soon as he sits beside you. The smooth, warm red is familiar and comforting on your palette, relaxing you another step down the ladder of what anxieties you had feared from this day.

"Salute." He murmurs before looking down at the plate of delicious looking pasta in front of him. "So what are we having this afternoon, chef?" He asks, looking back up at you with a pleased expression.

“Pasta c'anciuova e muddica atturrata, and the sardines are sautéed with olive oil then dressed with lemon juice and parsley.” Even saying it out loud makes you sigh a little with wistful happiness. “Normally I’ll do whatever fish is on sale at the market, but you had fresh sardines. And that’s…pretty perfect.”

"It smells delicious." Oberyn compliments you honestly and picks up his fork to twirl up a bite of the pasta, making sure to get some of the sardine in the bite. You are watching as he puts the fork in his mouth, eyes fluttering closed in pleasure as he practically moans when the flavors hit his tastebuds.

“Definitely a better memory than the first boy I ever loved.” Snorting slightly, you shake your head and dig into your own lunch with a nostalgic smile. Food evokes those good memories for you where most people don’t, but you figure the prince is more people-oriented in his own life.

"I am sorry." Oberyn reaches out and touches your arm gently. "A first love is supposed to be a sweet memory. A last love is supposed to be all consuming." He murmurs softly.

“I hope that’s true for most people.” It’s not biting, or sarcastic, or even melancholy - just honest - as you gently touch his hand with yours to acknowledge the softness of the gesture. “I’ll say the love of my life is my food, and merrily leave true love to Lily and Aja.”

"Never count yourself short." Oberyn advises you with a wink as he pulls his hand away and pick up his fork. "You deserve someone to lavish praise on your cooking daily."

“You like it?” The relief you feel is a bit of a surprise, but then again, any time you put your food in front of someone you’re bearing your soul to them for as long as that meal lasts. It’s not so odd to want someone to like your favorite thing. Right?

"It's possibly the best Pasta c'anciuova e muddica atturrata I've ever had." He praises as he forks up another bite of the pasta and sighs happily. "You are extremely talented, and I see why your sister thinks you should open your own restaurant."

“Thank you.” The heat just under your skin is definitely from the compliment rather than the wine, but you still shrug your shoulders a little. “Restaurants are expensive. It’s definitely the dream, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to manage it.”

Oberyn snorts, shaking his head at your lack of business prowess. “My dear Iris, you are becoming family to royalty by way of marriage.” He reminds you. “Use it.” He urges you. “No one gets ahead in this world without contacts, and you have miraculously developed very useful ones.”

You shake your head at him, nearly laughing at how outlandish his suggestion is. You would never be so presumptuous as to ask Aja’s family for money, but an old tease of your sister’s does cross your mind. “Lily used to say that anybody who was ever serious about wanting to marry me should buy me a restaurant instead of a ring.”

Oberyn chuckles and nods down to his plate. “If this is how you cook everything, I believe it.” He takes another sip of his wine and attacks the rest of the pasta with a gusto that wound have you believing he was starved.

By the time both of your plates are clean you’ve been sitting in companionable silence for quite a while, and it says quite a lot for you that it hasn’t felt awkward. Normally silence is something that irks you with another person, but the prince’s presence has yet to hit that nerve with you. A very good thing, considering you’ll be with him at the party tonight and wedding tomorrow, at the bare minimum.

“Now.” Oberyn stands and walks over to collect your plate. “On to our bet.” He teases with a wink, whisking away the dirty dishes to pile next to the sink so he can remove the delicate mousse desserts from the chiller. He fills sniffers with a shot of cool limoncello to accompany it and brings everything over to serve you first and then himself.

“The moment of truth.” You joke, picking up your spoon and cutting through the creamy mousse like butter. With ripe berries and fluffy, fresh whipped cream (that you absolutely did not watch him make, nope, not even a single glance at those biceps at work) it looks as pretty as any picture. “Salut.” Your first taste is…well, it’s nearly impossible to react, and you barely catch your eyes as they start to flutter closed at the burst of bright lemon and gentle, bubbly texture of the mousse. The prince’s dessert is exquisite and after the second spoonful you’re borderline annoyed with yourself for making this bet. This is without a doubt the best mousse you’ve ever had in your life - but hell if you’re going to say as much. “It’s good,” you manage to nod casually while you’re practically weeping happy tears on the inside.

“Mhm.” Oberyn looks at you doubtfully, not impressed with your reaction and for a moment doubts himself. He spoons up some of the mousse to make sure it set properly and gives a groan of satisfaction.

Two bites later, with a little bit of the whipped cream and a slice of strawberry in your mouth, you break down and just sit with your eyes closed for a long moment. He could probably make a career as a pastry chef based on this one little ramekin alone, and when you open your eyes, you exhale a little and take another bite. It’s good. If good suddenly means genius.

He has to give it to you; you are fighting the temptation with everything you have. But he hasn’t missed the little sighs, or the moment where you look like you are in blissful contemplation of life. He smirks to himself, spooning up another bite and is pleased with your enjoyment of his dessert. Even if you don’t ask him for the recipe, he will count it as a success.

Your little dish is clean so quickly that you have to stop yourself from literally licking the ramekin, and the sheepish look on your face is as much defeat as anything else. “I—” You bury half of your face in one hand and huff. “I have to have that recipe. That’s the most amazing mousse I’ve ever had…”

Oberyn grins, knowing how much the admission cost you. “Of course, you can have the recipe.” He assures you with a wink. “There is another ramekin in the chiller if you want more. Or we can save it for another time.”

That drawn expression of embarrassment on your face turns to eagerness, and you choose to be amused by his laughter behind you as you get up to cross the kitchen to get the other ramekin out of the blast chiller. “Do you want the last one?” You ask, seeing that he made four in total.

“I am a greedy man, Iris. Of course, I want the last one.” He muses. “Will make more for you to have before you leave Dorne.” He promises.

“And your prize?” A warmth floods through you as you set the second set of ramekins down at your places and sit down again. A bet is a bet, and he won fair and square. It doesn’t matter that you feel like a fumbling teenager at the prospect of actually having him kiss you.

Oberyn stares at you for a moment, watching you squirm slightly, and he almost lets you off the hook. There’s a hesitancy to the way you fumble with your spoon that makes him think you aren’t quite opposed to kissing him. “My prize will be secured…when you least suspect it.” He teases lightly.

“Of course it will.” You roll your eyes at his dramatics but have to admit to yourself that the anticipation coils in your chest more readily than you anticipated. “Well, that’s fair. You earned the win.” Which is made abundantly obvious when you dig your spoon into your second ramekin.

“As long as you enjoy it, my victory is sweet.” Oberyn scoops up the last bite of his first dessert. “I can assure you that this is also delightful being licked off a lover’s skin.”

That announcement nearly makes you choke, but you manage to keep it together long enough to simply tilt your head at him and smirk. “I’ll bear that in mind,” you tell him, knowing it will never make a damn bit of difference to your dry spell.

He grins at you and nods, admiring the smirk on your face and the way that you are slowly becoming used to his sense of humor. “Do.” He hums as he scoops up some of the new mousse. “Food play is highly underrated.”

“Is Selvin a fan?” It’s a little bit of a smart-ass question, but after attacking your second serving of mousse you’re feeling positively indulgent.

“You could always join us and discover that for yourself.” Oberyn offers. “Selvin is…very amenable.”

“I think that goes a little beyond a kiss.” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“We never specifically said where I would kiss you.” He teases. “They say that cunnilingus is French kissing a pussy.”

“I thought it was an Australian kiss.” The eyebrow that was raised at him now waggles in amusement. “Because it’s a kiss down under.”

His laugh is loud, full bellied and completely spontaneous. You caught him off guard with that comeback and he points his spoon at you. “I’ll have to use that next time.” He warns.

“Heard that from an Australian girl backpacking through Italy while I was living in Bologna.” His laugh is absolutely gorgeously and for a moment you wish you could just bottle it up and listen to it on your bad days. “She would probably love to know that her pick up line has survived.”

“You should look her up and thank her.” Oberyn tells you. “After this, we can get you settled in your rooms to get ready for the party. And I will create an itinerary for your personalized tour through Dorne.”

“But you won the bet?” You look at him curiously, second ramekin of mousse already almost destroyed. “You don’t have to take me around. It’s okay.”

“But I do.” Oberyn insists. “Because I am going to be begging for your recipe as well.”

“You don’t have to beg for that.” Nope. Don’t think about what he would sound like if he did beg. Real people don’t do that. That’s just in porn. DON’T think about him doing porn! You practically exhaust yourself on that particular inner monologue but manage to stay smiling. “It’s very nice of you to be so willing. Thank you.”

“Maybe I like to beg.” He hums, knowing full well he doesn’t but he caught the flash of heat in your eyes. There is something that he is enjoying immensely in your banter and he wants it to continue.

“I doubt that.” You doubt it very intensely, but that might be projection since you’ve never met a man who did. “But I also get the impression that you’ll try anything once.”

“Almost anything and everything.” He lifts a finger. “Except sounding.” He says seriously. “Fuck that.”

“Sounding?” That’s a term you’re not familiar with, and the second the question is out of your mouth you realize that you’re showing your inexperience again. At least, inexperience compared to him.

Oberyn gives slight look of discomfort. “Also called cock-stuffing. Where a metal rod is inserted into the urethra. I’d rather have my balls kicked repeatedly.”

“Jesus.” You cringe and recoil, almost feeling a phantom pain in his behalf. “That sounds terrible!”

“Pain is pleasure is taken a bit too far with that in my opinion. Spanking, sure. Orgasm denial, okay. But there are some things that should never be in the bedroom.” Oberyn huffs. “All my lovers must enjoy themselves.”

You’re about to open your mouth to agree that enjoyment is a must, when you hear a happy shriek from across the room that you would recognize even in your sleep. “You’re here!” Lily practically pounces in you, hugging you tightly and squeezing even tighter. Aja was behind her in the doorway and is slower to approach, but no less joyful. “She’s here, and my dear uncle is talking about orgasm denial.” Aja laughs, her sultry, husky voice ringing through the room. “Oberyn, you promised you would go easy on her.”

Turning, he gives his favorite (it doesn’t matter that she is his only) niece a grin as he stands to sweep her into a hug. “I am going easy on her. She’s already seen me naked and yet I haven’t taken her to bed.”

“But you let her cook for you?” Lily eyes the table suspiciously. Even though the kitchen is mostly clean, there is evidence of the meal that you and Oberyn shared. “That’s pretty much her version of foreplay.”

“I crafted dessert, so it was a joint effort.” He jokes, kissing Aja’s head before he moves over to Lily. “How are my favorite brides?” He hums as he wraps his arms around your sister.

“The singer of the band we hired is ill.” Aja reports with a frown. “He sang our song perfectly and now it will be passed off to someone else without that same talent.”

“What can I do to fix it?” Oberyn straightens, immediately dropping the easy-going air and adopting one of authority. “Do you have a backup ideal singer?”

It’s subtle, but Lily’s eyes float very slowly from Aja over to you, and the well-abused expression of a small puppy begging for love comes over her face. “I only know one other person who sings Someone to Watch Over Me as perfectly…”

The urge to fix the issue shifts slightly into curiosity, watching Lily turn on the doe eyes and beg you silently. Apparently, you were the best fit for the job and he was interested in seeing if you would do it.

“Lils, I haven’t—” You start to protest that you haven’t sung in public in years. That you’re not a professional. That there had to be somebody in Dorne who is a better singer than you. But this is your sister, and it’s her wedding, and you’ve never really been one to deny Lily anything in the first place. “Okay.” With a nod of your head, the second unusual bargain you’ve struck today is solidified. And this one is much more nerve wracking than the other. “But just the one song, okay? Otherwise I’m gonna get stage fright and I don’t want to ruin your reception.”

Oberyn hums in approval that you would be willing to do this for your sister. “Do we need to secure another band for other songs?” He asks the couple.

Lily has launched herself at you, hugging you and squealing with gleeful gratitude, and Aja breathes a sigh of relief. “No, uncle,” she knows that Oberyn would walk straight into a club in Sunspear and walk out with an entire new band for them, but that isn’t necessary. “The rest of it will be fine with the band’s other singer. We just wanted our first dance to be something special.” Aja reaches and clasps her hand over Oberyn’s shoulder. “Have you two been getting along?”

“She has not run away screaming or slapped me on the face.” Oberyn jokes, winking at you. “So I believe we are good.”

“Not yet.” You snort, shaking your head at him even while you hug Lily fiercely, asking her quietly. “When are mom and dad getting in?”

“Right before the cocktail hour.” Lily rolls her eyes slightly. “I love them, but I don’t want to hear too much.”

“It’s your wedding. They can behave themselves.” Mostly they’ll probably behave because they’ll intimidated onto it by being surrounded by royalty - but if that’s what it takes, that’s fine. “You just have to survive a few days and then you’re off on your fabulous globe-trotting honeymoon. Everything is going to be great.”

“Are you sure you want to stay after we are gone?” Lily asks, searching your face for any hesitation. “You have been invited to stay for the entire week, but I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Hey, stop worrying about me.” Both of your hands soothe over her back and you nod your head at the prince. “Aja’s uncle very graciously offered to show me around Dorne this week, and I’m definitely not giving up my private tour guide on what is possibly the only trip out here I’ll ever get.”

Oberyn smirks and wraps his hands around your shoulders and leans against your back to look at Lily. “Your sister is in my very capable hands. I will make sure she is well cared for.”

“Suddenly I am less worried about your parents’ behaviors than my family.” Aja jokes, looking at Oberyn with nothing but amusement.

Oberyn rolls his eyes and huffs. “When have I ever misbehaved when it’s important?” He asks petulantly.

“Thank you, uncle.” Aja knows she can trust him when it matters most, but she also knows that there is a good chance he will see your combined stubbornness and beauty as a challenge. And Oberyn never backs down from a challenge. “My love, we should check on the Gardens and get changed for the party.”

“Go with your sister.” Oberyn encourages you. “I will clean up here and see the three of you gorgeous ladies at the party.”

“Thank you for a very interesting lunch.” You offer him a wry smile before stepping out of his grip and following Lily and Aja out of the room.

Lily and Aja smirk at you as they walk towards the stairs. “Soooooo.” Aja coos. “What happened? I know something must have happened.”

“You could have warned me,” you grumble at both of them as they guide you down the winding hallways. “When I got here he was out by the pool.” Pause for dramatic effect. “With his lover.” Pause again. “And they were both completely naked.”

“Ohhhh, so you met Selvin.” Aja giggles. “His kids are not here.” She shoots you an apologetic look. “Sorry. Selvin showed up last night and wanted to stay.”

“We had a nice chat.” Only after you had been fairly rude, but that was water under the bridge now. “And then we made lunch together. It was all a very nice time.” Nice. Yes. You’ll stick with that, and not elaborate on the way he makes you feel tingling when he gets too close, or on the bet that you made.

“He’s nice but he’s just a passing fling.” Aja hums. “Oberyn is still insisting he’s not ready for more, but I know he is.”

“I’m sure he’ll find it soon enough.” You don’t doubt that for a second, not with plenty of looks and charm and the good amount of kindness you saw in him. The money and title probably didn’t hurt either.

“Hmmm.” Aja hums but doesn’t comment as the three of you descend down the stairs. “And you were not impressed when you saw him naked? I’m his niece - and a lesbian - but even I have to say that he is gorgeously built.”

“Here we go.” Rounding on them slightly at the end of the hall, you have to look up to see into Aja’s face but it doesn’t make your gaze any less suspicious. “Was it you two who put this vacation fling idea into his head?”

Lily doesn’t even look ashamed. “You need to get laid.” She huffs. “Oberyn is a good man, generous to his lovers and not bad on the eyes. If I didn’t only like pussy….” She grins and her fiancée huffs, shoving her arm slightly but grinning. “We didn’t put the idea in his head, but we did talk about you a lot.” Aja explains. “So he would feel like he knew you.”

“Lils, you know I don’t do flings anymore.” The impulse to drag your well-meaning sister into your arms and dig your fist into her scalp in an old fashioned noogie is very strong, but you just huff affectionately. “He’s a very nice man and if I leave here having made a new friend, I’ll be glad about it. Okay?” They should be focusing on each other - on their wedding day - not on your lack of a sex life. You’ll be dry for years to come - but they’ll only get married once.

Lily rolls her eyes. “Jesus, sis, live a little.” She groans. “You have one life and don’t you want to be able to say you banged a hot prince? The royal creampie? Anointed baby juice graced your womb? Even if it’s not going to take?”

“God, Lily!” You can feel all the blood drain from your face as you bury it in both of your hands - mortified and glad that no one is around to hear her say that out loud. It’s not like you’re immune to the idea obviously, but you put rules in place for yourself for a reason. The wall you built around your heart is there for a reason. “Please never say the words ‘anointed baby juice’ again.” Focusing on a joke is the best thing you can do right now to try to banish the creampie visual from your mind.

She snickers and Aja hides her own grin behind her hand. Your sister’s fiancée cannot resist teasing you a bit more. “How about a royal pearl necklace?” She cackles.

“You two can find another wedding singer if you keep it up.” The threat is completely empty, but you still waggle a finger at them in your best imitation of your mother.

“You wouldn’t do that.” Lily tells you with confidence.

“No. I love you too much.” Of course you wouldn’t. That isn’t the point. The point is that they meddled and now you feel like an idiot for momentarily thinking that the prince might have actually flirted or complimented you of his own accord. “Come on, you two. Aja said you needed to check the Gardens.”

“Oberyn never does what anyone says.” Aja observes, as she wraps her arm around Lily’s waist. “So for him to plan your trip with a tour is very surprising. He must really like you.”

“We had time to talk.” The three of you move slowly in the direction of the Gardens once more. “You keep saying that.” Lily looks over at you from Aja’s arms. “And that Oberyn is nice. It’s like you want me to obnoxiously prod at you for information.” She giggles evilly. “What, did you already fuck or something, and all this avoidance is a show?” The glare you shoot her says absolutely not and she giggles again. “I had to ask. It’s not like you didn’t have plenty of time.”

Lily shakes her head. “If she fucked Oberyn, the stick would have been pulled out of her ass.” She tells the woman who will be her wife in a day. “My sister hasn’t gotten laid since we’ve been together.”

“Say it a little louder, Lils, I don’t think the entire palace heard you.” You grumble, shoving your hands into your pockets like a wounded child. The teasing has reached an edge that you don’t like, and it’s making you anxious to the point of actually becoming upset. “I don’t need to get laid and I don’t need a relationship. I’m married to my food. End of story.” It doesn’t matter how much you want those things - you’re unlovable. At least, that’s what everyone you’ve ever tried to give yourself to has told you when they handed your heart back without a second thought.

“Okayyyyyyy.” Lily reaches over and gives you a quick hug, seeing how upset you are getting. “I’m sorry. We won’t tease you anymore.” She promises. “I just worry about you, big sis.”

“Just promise me you’ll find a nice nursing home to dump me in when I’m old and senile and can’t take care of my thirty cats anymore.” Hugging her back is easy, and you’re sorry you snapped, but things will only get worse if she’s still teasing you when your parents arrive. “I’ll be okay, kid. I promise.”

"Cat friendly nursing home." Lily giggles. "Got it." The three of you step into the inner portion of the Water Gardens and Lily sighs happily at the transformation.

“It’s gorgeous,” you breathe, glad to see the transformation as dusk approaches and also surprised that the entire change happened so quickly. You had been out here with Oberyn just a few hours ago and now it’s like a fairy garden. “It’s like every storybook you ever wished you could live inside,” you grin back at Lily happily.

"They are working hard to make sure everything is perfect." Lily tells you. "We even have a small memorial planned for loved ones that have passed." It was important for Aja, since her mother was no longer with them. Elia Martell Targaryen had passed away when Aja was young, but she had never stopped missing her mother.

“Your mom would be so happy for you, honey.” The stories you have heard about Aja’s mother are agree that she was a kind, sweet, and loving young woman taken from this life far too soon, and you just know in your heart that a woman like that would have been so glad to see her only child happy.

“She would be.” Aja’s eyes are bright with unshed tears, and she reaches for Lily’s hand. “I wish the two of you could have met her. I think you would have loved her as much as she would have loved you.”

“She’s here, baby.” Lily moved to Aja, wrapping her arms around her fiancée’s waist, and holding her tight. “She’s watching and making sure you’re okay and she knows you’re happy.” Though Aja’s father will be here tonight, and tomorrow for the wedding, he hasn’t been fully present in his daughter’s life since she left for university in the States six years ago. If anything, her uncle Oberyn is more of a father than Rhaegar Targaryen since Aja became an adult.

“I know.” Aja turns and presses a featherlight kiss on Lily’s lips. “Thank you, love.” She murmurs softly:

“I should let you guys take care of things.” You feel wildly out of place, including not wanting to intrude on their moment just now, and you should be thinking about a shower before the party. “I’ve got to shower the flight off of me and get ready for your party.”

“You don’t have to go.” Aja protests, pulling away from Lily and looking at you. “We are just lovey-dovey this week.”

“And you deserve to be.” Giving them both a quick hug, you step back again toward the palace. “I remember the way. See you in about an hour.”

Lily frowns as she watches you walk away. “I wish I knew what happened.” She murmurs to Aja. “She used to want a connection with someone.”

“What happened with her last relationship?” It had ended Right before Lily and Aja met, so her knowledge of her son-to-be sister-in-law in love was next to nonexistent.

“I don’t know.” Lily confesses. “She just said she didn’t want to talk about it and that she was going to focus on her skills as a chef.”

“Has it really been six years?” With her arm wrapped around Lily, Aja wanders toward the small tables set out along the patio to check what is being used for centerpieces. “I can’t imagine going that long without loving someone.”

“I guess. She hasn’t mentioned anyone.” Lily feels guilty, being so happy and in love when she knows you would thrive under that feeling. She hears you complain when the two of you chat about the long hours and knows that someone to share your burdens with, or even laugh and fuck away the stress would do you wonders.

“Don’t spiral, love.” Aja can feel Lily tense up against her and she presses a kiss to her fiancée’s temple. “She’d hate it, and we must conserve our energy to deal with our parents tonight. When we get back from the honeymoon, we’ll see if we can’t set her up on a few dates. How does that sound?”

“I would say yes,” Lily shakes her head. “But I’m afraid her last name should be Martell. She’s as stubborn as everyone in your family.” She tells her fiancée with a grin. “Even though technically your last name is Targaryen.”

“I am so much a Martell that I avoided my father’s blonde hair.” Aja jokes, laughing deeply. “Although my stubbornness is in wanting my loved ones to be happy…which I suppose is something else I inherited from my mother.”

“I hope she doesn’t stay mad at me.” Lily takes Aja’s hand. “Come on, we need to look amazing, after all, this party is for us.”

______

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[johnwickb1tsch]

As it turns out, John Wick can drive very fast.

You already knew this, of course. Constantine, however, seems to be regretting his life choices as Wick weaves in and out of traffic, trying to find a hand hold as you are whipped around in the cramped back seat of the vintage Chevelle. He clenches his square jaw and glares daggers as Wick makes a quick left juke, the force of it pushing Constantine into the side of the car furthest from you.

You think it's a coincidence, until you meet John Wick's eyes in the rear-view mirror, and you see a glimmer of amusement. On anyone else, it would be all-out gut-busting laughter. You open your mouth to tell him to play nice, but Tex interrupts you—just like old times.

"3 o'clock," barks the cowboy assassin from the shotgun seat. It's fitting, because he quite literally has a sawed-off shotgun in his lap, something from Constantine's cabinet of goodies with arcane symbols scratched into the barrel. Tex and Constantine fought over this seat like it was worth a million dollars, and only the interruption of the literal Hell’s Angels roaring up on you on motorcycles re-focused their attention.

They’ve been trying to run you down for blocks like wolves on a caribou, and with a whip of Wick's wrist on the steering wheel, now you’re being pursued by one less. It over-corrects and crashes into a concrete barrier. Constantine laughs under his breath at the thing’s demise.

However, there are still three more to contend with.

“The club is just ahead,” directs Constantine. “Good luck finding parking.” 

“Hold on.” 

There's nothing to fucking hold on to in the bare bones back seat—except for Constantine, so that's what you do. He holds your hand with a white knuckled grip that betrays his nerves far more than his expression does

John tricks the motorcycle-riding demons by suddenly slowing down, then gunning the engine, running one over with a sudden burst of speed, then smacking the other two like a pinball flipper with a sudden shift and drift turn.

The car is totally fucked, but so are the hellspawn, so it feels like a win. 

When one of them tries to stagger from the wreckage towards you Tex shoots it from out the window. The sound is deafening—and the ball of fire from the barrel of the gun makes you all jump. 

“What the fuck is that, John?” you demand. 

“Dragon's breath,” he answers you with a little smirk. “Nice work, Hee Haw. You should hunt demons instead of people.”

“What's the pay?”

“Absolute shit with possible stock options in Heaven.”

“No thank you then.”

The four of you pile out of the car and hustle towards the doors of Midnite's. 

“This place is supposed to be neutral ground,” says Constantine, “but it's going to be full of demonic half-breeds, so walk fast and stick close.”

Tex turns to you with an incredulous frown. “Baby, I seriously gotta question your taste. Where did you find this wizard boy?”

Constantine looks at you with a smirk, no doubt thinking about your first animalistic tryst in that alleyway by the bar, and how he’d made you cum on his dick with your back chaffed by the hard bricks behind you, your legs wrapped desperately around his slender waist while he pounded inside your needy little cunt.

It had been glorious.

Just the memory of it floods you with a searing heat from your loins to regrettably, your cheeks.

Constantine loves it when he manages to make you blush, and a wicked gleam sparkles in his jetty dark irises.   

“Shall I tell him, dear?”

You can tell that Tex’s head is about to explode.

“Not while he’s holding a fire-breathing shotgun, honey.”

Constantine has never really used lovey pet names with you before. It’s almost the weirdest thing that’s happened today.

As you push through the doors of the club it’s almost like entering another dimension, the red lights and bass thump of hedonistic music beyond, the steps down down down like a descent into a nether realm. The bouncer holds up his tarot card, the entrance exam, that Constantine passes like a breeze. “Rat in a dress.”

Bouncer turns to Wick and Tex with a new card, who look at Constantine with almost comical consternation. “They’re with me.”

“Still gotta pass.”

A beat later Constantine punches the burly bouncer out, shaking the sting off his hand. “Sorry,” he says to the unconscious man on the ground. To the rest of you, “Shit. Move fast.”

He bursts through the doors to the main club, striding with purpose on those beautiful long legs. You always feel too cool for school, when you’re on a magical side-quest with John. His broad shoulders part the crowd around you all, and when you’re with Constantine, everyone is looking at you. Half-breed angels, demons, and who knows what in between. Their eyes glow eerily in the low crimson light of the club.

Neither Wick nor Tex betray any fear or surprise at descending into this eldritch side of the City of Angels, intimidating towers at your back, glowering at anyone who looks your way.

Maybe it’s stupid, but in this moment you feel pretty fucking invincible.  

It’s definitely stupid, because the creatures on Team Lucifer start to take an acute interest in Tex, their eyes glowing. Even you can feel them pressing closer around you. Constantine is standing at the tufted leather wall, what you know is an illusion hiding a door.

A tall, unfairly hot half-breed saunters into Tex’s personal space, reaching up to touch his cheek with a sultry come-hither smile. Succubus, is your guess, though the possibilities are literally endless. For a moment Tex seems utterly entranced, and it’s all you can do not to roll your eyes. “Sorry, he’s taken,” you say, pulling Tex back with your fingers in his tooled belt to sandwich him between you and Constantine.

Are they going to open the door for you or what? Any time now would be excellent…

Suddenly the half-breed seems a foot taller, looming over you with glowing red eyes. With your heart in your throat you hold up your amulet between you, and though she doesn’t exactly flinch and hiss like you’d hoped, you can tell she doesn’t care for it, her fine features twisting in a sneer like she tasted something nasty.

“Fine,” pouts the demoness. “Change your mind, handsome, you know where to find me.” She punctuates the offer with a flash of razor-sharp teeth before she saunters off with extra swing in her hips.

Tex makes a small sound of pain behind you as he watches her go, and you know he can’t help it. Desire is the Succubus’s power, and she was clearly hunting tonight. It doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes though, turning to catch John Wick’s gaze. You can tell he’s keeping watch on the room, but he’s also got his eyes on you; that weighty, yearning look that never fails to tie your heart—and your lady parts—up in knots. A wholly inconvenient throb of lust between your legs makes you shift where you stand; suddenly you are soaked, so aware of the solid warmth of Tex at your back, and John towering before you.

Just like old times.

A part of you wants to reach for him, location be damned, an ingrained urge that would be a terrible idea at this time in this place, because if you touch him you’ll have to kiss him and who knows where that will end.

Jesus, was the succubus’s energy affecting you too? Or is it just…them?

There is a heady weight in the air, like something malevolent is about to descend upon you all. With your heart in your throat you clutch at the talisman around your neck, and though you’re not really sure which deity you’re entreating for salvation, you pray.

At last the door swings open, and Constantine finds your elbow, tugging you none too gently with him inside Papa Midnite’s inner sanctum. Naturally, where you go, the boys follow close behind.

“John Constantine,” says Papa Midnite in his melodic baritone. “Been some time. I see you’ve brought friends.”

  “Wouldn’t go that far,” snarks Constantine with a baleful look at the two assassins at your back. “But I need your help.”

“The Great John Constantine needs my help?” mocks Papa. “Must be sometin’ bad.”

You’re not proud of the panic that rises in your throat at the sound of Midnite’s reluctance to help you. You know that pretty much everyone in the supernatural world has been pissed off at Constantine for some reason or another, but you pray this man can rise above his grudge. If not…Tex is fucked, and maybe it’s stupid after everything he did to you, but just the thought leaves a hollow ringing inside your heart.

You dare to peek around from Constantine’s imposing form. “Please, Papa?” you entreat, your eyes wide. You have met once before, and on that occasion the powerful witch doctor seemed to like you, though he didn’t cease to deride what a girl like you could possibly be doing with the likes of John Constantine. “We really need your help.”

Papa Midnite tilts his fedora-topped head to regard you with curiosity. He is wearing one of his delightfully loud shirts with a fur collared jacket. A gold necklace gleams against the dark skin of his throat. “Who needs my help, little girl? You, or him?” He points at Constantine with the jut of his chin.

“I do,” you both answer at the same time. You realize Constantine doesn’t want you to owe the powerful Bokor a favor—but you’re reading the room, and you’re pretty sure if the magic is for Constantine, Midnite is going to tell you all to pound rocks.

Midnite, understanding all of this, sits back in his throne of a chair with a little chuckle, drumming gold-bedecked fingers on the carved wooden arm.

“What is it you need?”

“A curse lifted,” answers Constantine. “And a spell cast.”

Midnite whistles at hearing that, and only then does his attention turn to the assassin at your back. “I can sense the dark mark from here,” says the witch doctor. “Let me see.”

With a grumble Tex pulls at his collar, pearl snap buttons popping to reveal the blackened circular pentacle, its 8 radii tipped with symbols, embedded beneath his skin. At the sight of it Midnite smirks, his eyebrows lifting high.  

“Set thou a wicked one to be ruler over him, and let Satan stand at his right hand,” cites Midnite. “That a powerful curse t’set on someone, Constantine.”

“It was a heat of the moment thing,” grumbles the demon hunter.

“I can tell. Takes some big feeling, to conjure a curse like dis from thin air.”

That’s when Midnite looks at you, and that stupid blush of heat ambushes you again.

Feelings were not something you and John Constantine talked about. Sure, they were there, but you never really gave voice to them. You demonstrated them, physically, and often. Midnite seems bent on embarrassing both of you.

“Yeah, yeah,” grouses Constantine, only daring to glance in your direction. But in that single moment, the raw look on his face makes you feel like you need to sit down. “So can you lift it or not?”

“Course I can,” says Midnite dismissively. “What you bring me in return?”

“’Fraid I’ll have to owe you.”

“Hmm. I’ve heard that one too many times from the likes of you, Constantine. I’ll need somethin’ up front.”

“Do you like gold?” asks John Wick blandly, producing five glittering yellow coins from his pocket, setting them on the table in front of Papa Midnite in a neat stack one by one. The pretty tink tink tink of metal fills the air, and Midnite nods with his lips pursed, paying Wick an approving look. However, as he examines the death’s head emblazoned token, it is you he speaks to.

“How did a nice girl like you get tangled up wit Underworld boys like dis?”

A shuddering sigh escapes you, as a montage of the absolute fire you walked through to get to this moment flashes in your mind. The murder, the kidnapping, the chaos and corruption. The passion, the pleasure, and the quieter moments that made you think you might be content to stay with your Boys forever—until they forced you to go.

“It’s a long story, Papa,” you answer, barely able to raise your voice over a whisper.

“Some other time, you’ll tell me, then. Step into my office.”     

Midnite leads you to his back room, a cavernous space built in the breathtakingly ornate style of the Moorish palaces of Andalusia. At first you don’t know where to look. The arabesque carved walls, the scalloped arches, the honeycomb vaulted ceilings, or the cacophony of antique relics stacked high on all sides. There are statues and busts and boxes and dolls, this and that and bric-a-brac and every category of precious old junk you can imagine, is here. Your eye is drawn to an old wooden chair against the far wall with leather straps that for some reason gives you chills.

The center of the room is empty, the demarked circle where Midnite performs his workings outlined with bones, half-burnt candles, and rusty lines on the tiles that look like blood.  

“Now then,” says Midnite, taking a sip from a bottle of dark rum before offering it to Tex. “Drink up, man. Dis not gonna feel good.”

***

When all is said and done, the four of you all feel like pieces of chewed up gum. You are utterly wiped, and it’s all you can do not to fall asleep in the back of the car with your head on Constantine’s shoulder. Fingering your new tattoo, a mystical symbol that binds Tex Johnson and John Wick to your will, you think on what Papa Midnite said to you before your departure.

“Hard to live with a heart divided in three pieces, girl. You playin’ a dangerous game.”

“It’s not a game to me, Midnite. It’s just…my life, somehow.”

“Dat fair. So you know, I told that silly boy of yours to put a ring on your finger ‘fore he lost the chance. Never seen him like dis, wit any other.”

You’d paid him a grim smile, amused at the thought of Constantine asking you to be his wife. What a laughable prospect. Sweet, but there was no way he felt that about you. “Are you telling me not to break your friend’s heart, Midnite?”

He’d snorted and taken a drink of rum. “I know better than that. But you might tink about what he’ll turn into, if tings go badly.”

Truth be told, you didn’t want to think on that, because it terrified you. All you wanted right now, was to curl up in the bed you shared with John Constantine, and sleep for about seven years.

Midnight had given you a herbal potion that had to be administered to Tex every six hours for a week, and a magical salve to apply to the burn upon his chest where the symbol had, at one point, burst into white-hot flame. You’d feared he’d been at death’s door, until he took your hand with a smirk and mumbled half to you, half to himself, “The things I do for my little rattlesnake.” It had squeezed your heart with a fist, utterly wrecked you, and you knew you couldn’t kick him to the curb just yet.

You were headed back to Constantine’s house, (which you had helped him get together the down payment for, with no strings attached, so…) and the four of you would have to figure out how to co-exist, at least until Tex was back on his feet.

Then…who the fuck knew what was going to happen.

You’d think about that, tomorrow.

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😬 Please enjoy this set up for copious angst and smut... 😆 I don't even know who's going next! @treedaddymcpuffpuff @tammykelly @sweetwolfcupcake @lilspookymeh

I left the details of the ritual open aside from the tattoos, if you want to add anything, for, reasons... 😆

Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick Imagine WIP Part 8

After 450 comments on the last section 🤣 its time for a new one. U guyz are gremlins!😆👏👏 @treedaddymcpuffpuff @tammykelly @sweetwolfcupcake @lilspookymeh

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"Come on, we've got to get you somewhere safe," says John Wick, trying to hustle you down the street.

"No," you protest, resisting. "We have to find John and Tex. They might need us."

You were skeptical about demons and the occult, God and the Devil and everything in between, at first. But after hanging out with Constantine, you'd seen a few things. Just enough that you had sense enough to be scared. You clutch the protection amulet around your neck that John had given you. You'd laughed at him at the time, but now you were glad to have it.

"They're both grown men, honey. I told Tex to leave you alone. This is what he gets."

Suddenly you're angry all over again. "Oh, you told him, huh?" You push John's chest--its like having a disagreement with a brick wall. "Do you have any fucking idea how much I've missed you? How it destroyed me to be thrown away like an old shirt you had no more use for?"

He is still as a mountain as he holds your wrists, preventing you from striking him, but not hurting you. Those dark eyes bore into you, through you. How does he not see you? "Y/n...I did what I thought was best for you."

"But you didn't fucking ask me! Or at least, you didn't listen! But you know what, it doesn't matter right now. John had to put some kind of a curse on Tex in self defense, because Tex is such an asshole, and now they're both in danger!"

"A what?"

You pause to think, and you're pretty sure you know where Constantine would go. There's an old church a few blocks over. Consecrated ground. It's where he's always told you to go if something came after you. It would be a good place to regroup.

"Come on," you say, pulling John in the opposite direction down the street.

For once, he actually listens, a shadow at your back ready to protect you, but he lets you lead the way.

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The old building looks like it should probably be condemned. It's definitely seen better days, and hasn't seen a congregation in at least a decade. However, the ground is still holy, untouchable for the Unclean, and when you burst through the doors after John has already shot down three demons, you are so relieved to see Constantine and Tex sitting in some of the old pews. They definitely look like they've been through a battle, disheveled and beat up. You wonder how much was demons, and how much they did to each other.

"Thank God!" You run to them, and Tex's expression rises and falls as you go to Constantine, pressing your mouth to his in what you know is a needy kiss, assuring yourself as much as him.

He smirks down at you, well aware of the death- stares he's receiving from both sides. It's possible he makes a show of grabbing your ass, just to rub it in to your two Ghosts.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah. You?"

You nod. Then Constantine rolls his eyes upward, over your head to John Wick. He is quietly forbidding in his black suit, standing watch by the door. "That your other Ghost?"

With a tired sigh you nod.

"Ghosts? The fuck is Harry Potter here talkin' about?"

The urge to punch Tex or kiss him is strong as ever.

"The two of you ghosted me, didn't you?"

"Baby girl, I missed you. That's why I came to get you." He shoots a telling glare over at John Wick, who only returns a disinterested look. Maybe the master assassin had been keeping tabs on you, but he hadn't shared everything with Tex, it seems.

Constantine looks between the two assassins, then you, with an infuriating smirk.

"What?" you demand, more than a little exasperated with everthing.

"Nothing. Just seems like you have a type, angel."

You can't even argue.

"Angel?" Tex snorts at your pet name. "Does he even know you?"

"Does he ever shut up?" asks Constantine, raising one dark eyebrow.

"No, never," you sigh.

There is a howl outside that lifts every hair on your body, an unearthly sound that makes your fingers grip in Constantine's suit jacket.

"What are we going to do?"

"Good question." Constantine tugs you over to a different pew, sitting down with his arm draped around your shoulders. His message is obvious, and it's new to you. Constantine rocks your world on the nightly, but he's never been possessive before. It really shouldn't, but it ignites a warmth in your chest that makes you feel ridiculously, stupidly, giddy inside.

"Seems like we're at an impasse, gentlemen."

Tex frowns. John seems less than impressed.

"Sorry, what's stopping us from killing you and taking her?"

You tense, watching the gun John holds loosely at his side. You know Wick can move like lightning, and your heart leaps into your throat. You are ready to fling yourself between them if you have to.

"John..."

"It's ok, sweetheart. He's not going to kill me."

"No offense, but I've heard that before from lots of people who are dead now."

Constantine snorts. "You can't kill me, because I've put a curse on your friend here, and you need me to lift it."

"So lift it."

"Can't. Got a friend who can though. You'll never see him without me."

You know Constantine must be talking about the famed and powerful bokor, Papa Midnite. A chill runs down your spine. You've met him precisely once. He was polite--and hot as fuck, if you're being honest--but you knew he was not to be trifled with.

"So let's go, then," says Tex, his patience lost about three dead demons ago.

"Hold up, Howdy Doody. We got to talk first."

"Bout?"

Constantine nods down at you. "Maybe I don't know all the details, but I've heard enough. And as much as I've enjoyed filling the hole you assholes left--I can't let you hurt her again. I'll let the demons feast on your souls first."

Almost on cue, that demonic howling sounds again outside, and a chorus of hellish hissing rises. It sounds like you are surrounded.

Tex leaps to his feet. "You smug little fucker--"

"Shut up, Tex." It's Wick who shushes his friend. "What do you propose?"

Finally, Constantine looks down at you. "It depends on what she wants."

Your mouth drops open at that. You have to decide that, now? As though he can read your thoughts, and sometimes you're convinced he can, Constantine pays you an infuriating smirk.

"I...don't want them dead. Or...devoured."

"That's a start, I guess. Do you ever want to be with them again?"

Your eyes go wide as saucers. The simple answer, of course, is yes. You love them. You miss them.

However, answers are never so simple, with your Boys involved. Like an idiot, you dare to look at them, taking in Tex's hang-dog puppy-eyed look, and John's quiet but intense yearning. Then, of course, there is the man beside you, who despite his aloofness and his prickly manner, has been nothing but good to you.

You've never said it out loud, but the truth is, you love him too.

"I don't know."

"Yeah. I figured." He smirks at you, inexplicably smug, and you kind of want to smack him too.

Which always leads to interesting things, with John Constantine, your stupid lady parts sing out. Jesus Christ on a cracker, what a fucking mess.

"You got a point, Gandalf?" demands Tex, paying a nervous look to one of the cracked stained glass windows. Ominous dark shapes are flying past outside. This is not good.

"I want you assholes to accept a Spell of Submission to her."

"The fuck does that mean?" demands Tex with a thunderous frown. John remains neutral as he listens.

"It means, if you ever try to make her do something she really doesn't want to do, again, she can say the magic words to fuck up your world. Pardner."

"No fuckin' way," Tex scoffs.

At the same time, John answers, "I'll do it."

Your eyes meet across the aisle of the church. That he would take such a leap of faith-- for you-- drops the floor out from under you.

Tex, of course, interrupts your moment of soul- searching eye contact with John.

"Wait, so we could be havin' an argument and she can drop me dead with the evil eye or somethin'?"

Constantine snorts. "It would probably serve you right, Hee Haw, but no. Cause you extreme pain? Yes. But it comes at a price. All magic does. I know she wouldn't use it lightly."

It would potentially even the playing field quite a bit between you three. The balance of power amongst you had never been fair.

"What's a matter, Tex? You don't trust me?"

"Only as far a I could throw you, darlin'." But his hawk-like look softens for you after a moment, and then surprisingly he grins. "Got me over a barrel now, don't you?"

You shift a little in your seat, so that you're flush against Constantine. The solid line of his lithe warmth beside you is anchoring. You glance up at him, finding he looks arrogantly amused-- and surprisingly, a little sad. If you didn't know him so well you would have missed it, like ripples in a pool.

You turn back to Tex, an uneasy excitement thrumming in your chest.

"If the curse fits?"

The cowboy sighs, frowning at the hellspawn waiting to rend his flesh and eat his soul outside. "Alright, fine. Guess you might as well take it all." He can't look at you while he says it, but you sense his surrender-- or at least, his resignation. It's not exactly a victory, but it's something, and it pulls at your heartstrings.

"Alright, wizard boy. Hoodoo me up."

Constantine snorts, leaping up from the bench. "First we've got to get out of here. You're going to want to cover your eyes." He starts muttering an encantation and walking in a circle, sprinkling a powder on the ground from his pocket. "When this goes off we'll have ten minutes. Either of you assholes have a car nearby?"

"Yeah."

"Great. Hope you like to drive fast."

His chanting gets louder, and you see he's produced a lighter. He never uses it for cigarettes anymore, but portable fire to a magician has its uses. You can tell he's reaching the crescendo of his spell, and you scrunch your eyes closed. Even through your eyelids you see the flash, and the boom of a magical fireball that should have burned you all to dust.

However, only the things outside incinerate, their agonized cries echoing through the cavernous stone building.

"Let's move."

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Hope I set this up for Midnite's club and whatever shenanigans u guys want to get up to 😆 Enjoy! @sweetwolfcupcake @treedaddymcpuffpuff @tammykelly