A/N: I know, I know. I should finish my first work before I start a new one. But this is just something to keep on writing and stay inspired. And, as an excuse: The first one-shot will be Cersei/Oberyn.
You can always make suggestions of pairings or situations you'd like to read, though I can't promise I'll write about them, but I'll try. (I love exploring unusual, non-canon ships.)
Maybe I'll make some of the one-shots into longer stories one day. Maybe not.
Thanks for bearing with me!

Prompt: "why do i love you?" - CERSEI/OBERYN

Oberyn glared at her, amazed. He often did that when she was asleep, laying next to him curled up in her covers. She looked so peaceful when she slept. Almost like a goddess. Not that he believed in any gods. He had always thought that his future was in his own hands only. Of course, it was easier to blame the gods for any personal failure.

They had been married for a little over ten years now. Oberyn had known at an early age that she'd be his wife one day. Lord Tywin almost refused the engagement in his mourning for his wife, but Oberyn's mother finally convinced him. At that time he didn't know exactly what to think about it, but today he was incredibly happy. He could never have dreamed of a better woman. She was petulant, oh yes. Very often. She questioned him, she contradicted him publicly, she kept changing the carpets and wall decorations to Lannister-red. He hated her. And, damn it, he loved her. He loved her with every inch of his heart.

Nevertheless, he shared his bed with other women and men and allowed her to do the same. But most of the time they enjoyed the pleasures of life together. He willingly shared her body, but her heart should belong only to him.

He was not the only one who loved Cersei. Although her twin brother was married to his sister Elia, Oberyn noticed the looks he gave her. They didn't see each other very often, just at feasts and other official occasions, but Oberyn was always happy when they were alone again. She belonged to him, and everyone had to know it.

Oberyn Martell wasn't the jealous type, but sometimes he felt the blood pulsing faster through his veins when she played her little, wicked games with him. Cersei was a free woman. Yes, he granted her many freedoms that other ladies could only dream of. And apparently she enjoyed it. Sometimes for days she would give him no attention and deny him any closeness. At the same time, she flirted with guards or Lords, sometimes even with his brother, who had no idea how to deal with her advances and looked at her as if she was some sort of magic creature. She knew that he would then share his bed with others, but it was not the same as with her.

Every sex with her was like a battle for life and death. She bit, scratched, and hissed like a wildcat. A wildcat who knew how to use her hips extraordinarily well. In return, he didn't handle her with kid gloves either. She was not a doll and not a whore who tried to please him and meet his wishes. No, she was his equal.

When a ray of sunlight tickled Cersei, she opened her eyes, blinking. Last night, she didn't get much sleep. Neither did he. Cyran, their youngest, had kept them awake half the night because they were supposed to kill the monsters under his bed. The little boy had the laugh and hair of his father, combined with his mother's emerald eyes and sharp tongue. He would soon celebrate his fifth nameday and already behaved as if he knew everything there was to know about the world. Just like his mother, he drove Oberyn mad sometimes, but he loved him deeply.

"You're a beast. Mad. Tell me, why do I love you?" He didn't know whether she had heard him or not. His voice was not more than a whisper.

Cersei sighed. She was still half asleep. Her eyes weren't even fully open yet. "Because you do."

With that, she rolled over to the other side, but Oberyn rolled her over again so that he could look into her face. "That is not an answer."

Cersei sighed again, louder than before. "It is. You asked me something and I formed words with my lips in return. What would you consider it to be?"

The Dornish Prince grinned. That was her. His stubborn wife. "And why do you love me?" He stroked the swing of her hip with his fingertips and placed a kiss on her shoulder while he pushed her golden hair to the side. When she wore it open, she looked much younger. Almost innocent.

"You're a pretty good kisser. I'll give you that. That would be all." She mocked him, as usual. But in her eyes was no fire, no hatred. Only love. She only ever looked at him and their children that way, and sometimes, much to Oberyn's annoyance, her twin brother.

Oberyn leaned over, his lips almost touching hers as he spoke. "Yes, I am the best kisser in the Seven Kingdoms, and not only on the lips. And I'll prove it once more.".