#radiowallet writes

[radiowallet]

Meant to Be - A GoT Soulmate AU

Complete

Palm to palm; Skin to skin

Two souls twist from within

A true match to your heart, if you choose

It’s a love to gain, never to lose

Summary: Oberyn Martell has spent his life as a second-born prince enjoying all the pleasures that Dorne has to offer, staving off any notion of an arranged marriage under the guise of searching for his soulmate. But after defeating The Mountain and avenging his sister's untimely death, Oberyn returns home to his brother still without a true heir. And so Doran states his plan: To name Oberyn Lord of Sunspear and have him take a wife, soulmates and lovers be damned. So what happens when the fates of Westeros send him an independent and troublesome woman from the north that just happens to fit the title of both bride and soulmate? Which feelings does one bow to? To bend or to break? And what does it truly mean to be meant?

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Unnamed OFC, Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand

Part 1 - The Arrangement

Part 2 - The Engagement

Part 3 - The Attachment

Part 4 - The Development

Part 5 - The Commitment

Epilogue - The Endearment

Extras

Part 2 Gif Set by @pedropascalsx

First Dance by @daddydindjarin

Meant to Be playlist

Inspo Tag

#Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell fic #Oberyn Martell x OFC #Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand #radiowallet writes

[yourstrulylightstar283]

Sarah Bailey for radiowallet

Disclaimer:

Sarah Bailey and PWC (c) @radiowallet/@radiowallet-writes/@catepagewrites

The aesthetic collage (c) @yourstrulydisneylady23(Me)

#gift for a friend #aesthetics #other people's work #poorly wired circuit #pwc #sarah bailey #other people's oc #oc #original character #radiowallet #radiowallet-writes #catepagewrites #aesthetic

[perotovar]

dedicated to everyone, for the @swiftiscruff friendship exchange ♥

sappy message and tags under the cut:

this week snuck up on me and i didn't have any time to make the things i wanted to for specific individuals (and even got this out at the last possible second) so i'm sorry that never happened! hopefully this funny/cute moodboard will suffice <3

y'all, i don't even know where to begin. i love all of you so fucking much and feel so blessed and humbled to consider so many of you my friends.

when i joined this fandom (end of january 2023) i told myself i was just going to make my gifs and stay in my lane. i didn't want to make any friends because i'd been there, done that.

i'm so fucking glad that never came to pass because even if this fandom can be full of drama and toxicity, it's also one of most lovely and supportive groups of people i've ever been a part of.

i can't tell you all how much i love you and thank you for your love and support on my gifs, my fics, god, i never expected that. tbh i thought people were just being nice and humoring me when i started writing but i'm slowly but surely realizing you're all just giant sweeties. seriously, thank you so much.

i tried to find as many people as possible that i consider friends and/or admire a great deal for their creativity/presence in this fandom because you all make my time here beyond worth it <3 if i left anyone out i promise it wasn't on purpose!

i'm so grateful that this silly, talented man brought you guys to me!

-

in no particular order: (sorry it's broken up weird, tumblr sucks lol)

@scenaaario @sp00kymulderr @qveerthe0ry @undercoverpena @kedsandtubesocks

@hellishjoel @chronically-ghosted @gasolinerainbowpuddles @5oh5 @theredviper

@swiftispunk @joelscruff @jksprincess10 @for-a-longlongtime @bonezone44

@mrsmando @freelancearsonist @ozarkthedog @ghotifishreads @futuraa-free

@pedrorascal @userparamore @guiltypleasure-art @psychedelic-ink @pedgito

@survivingandenduring @yourcoolauntie @beelzebeth87 @immarocketman @goodwithcheese

@rhoorl @sin-djarin @ezrasbirdie @haylzcyon @reedrchards

@sweetenerobert @ghostofaboy @toointojoelmiller @theywhowriteandknowthings @covetyou

@nerdieforpedro @agentmarcuspike @missredherring @boliv-jenta @beefrobeefcal

@toxicanonymity @marisferasiop @morallyinept @atticrissfinch @trulybetty

@max--phillips @iamskyereads @grogusmum @tieronecrush @nicolethered

@thetriumphantpanda @radiowallet @wannab-urs @oonajaeadira @fuckyeahdindjarin

@beardedjoel @secretelephanttattoo @schnarfer @joelsgreenflannel @janaispunk

@tomshiddles @djo @trashcora @miguelo-hara

#PPCUGiftExchange2024 #pedropascaledit #ppascaledit #ppascaldaily #pedrohub #pedro pascal #userallisyn #userfanni #useriselin #tusercora #tuserpolly #xuserannie #g:pp #oaks

[tightjeansjavi]

Pedro Pascal Character Community Fic Recs-Writer Recs 2023 ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Thank you to everyone who sent in their fic/writer recs 🤍 I absolutely loved compiling this list for all of you! To all of the writers, thank you for everything that you do in this community ✨

***PLEASE HEED THE INDIVIDUAL WARNINGS FOR EACH WRITERS FICS/MASTERLISTS. ALL CONTENT IS +18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT***

**Rec’s are in no particular order**

@radiowallet masterlist fic: Pretend Alleyways Dieter Bravo x Marcus Moreno

@chronically-ghosted masterlist fic: TOTWHTFIFI Max Phillips x f!reader

@for-a-longlongtime fic: I Fought The Law Tim Rockford x Javi Peña x reader

@sin-djarin masterlist fic: Homecomings Multiple Pedro Characters

@secretelephanttattoo masterlist fic: Fort Bravo Dieter Bravo x gn!reader fic: Donut Debauchery Marcus Pike x f!reader

@wannab-urs masterlist fic: in the a.m Javier Peña x f!reader

@corazondebeskar masterlist fic: well it’s love, make it hurt dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

@beskarandblasters masterlist fic: me and my husband Married!Din Djarin x F!Reader fic: Mothman Fever Mothman!Joel Miller x F!Reader fic: apotheosis Sith!Din Djarin x Rebel Spy!Reader

@planet-marz1 masterlist fic: I Know it’s For the Better Joel Miller x f!reader

@idolatrybarbie fic: the world tipped on its side stunt pilot!francisco "frankie" morales x fem!stunt coordinator!reader

@proxima-writes masterlist fic: my tears ricochet husband's best friend!joel miller x female reader

@pedge-page masterlist fic: cravings Frankie Morales x F!Reader

@ghosmooth-operator fic: I've Got To Fill The Void no outbreak!Joel x f!reader

@mrsmando masterlist fic: Sweet Treat frankie morales x f!plus-size!reader

@joelscruff masterlist fic: Feelings on Fire joel miller x f!reader

@frannyzooey masterlist fic: Short Days Long Nights Joel Miller x f!reader

@chaotic-mystery masterlist fic: code red dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader fic: ‘Atta Girl Joel Miller x f!plus sized reader

@justagalwhowrites masterlist fic: Lavender Joel Miller x Female Reader fic: New in Town BFD!Joel Miller x Female Reader

@chloeangelic masterlist fic: seeking what is desirable Joel Miller x f!reader

@amanitacowboy masterlist fic: blue dream frankie morales x f!reader

@pedgito masterlist fic: meet me in the woods Joel Miller x fem!reader

@atinylittlepain masterlist fic: apothecary joel miller x witchy!reader

@intheorangebedroom masterlist fic: pleased to meet you Frankie Morales x Gabrielle Tourneur (OFC)/French fem!Reader with a dash of Ben Miller x Gabrielle Tourneur (OFC)/French fem!Reader

@smok3r7 masterlist fic: Latching On To You Joel Miller x f!reader

@joelsgreys masterlist fic: a safe haven Joel Miller x f!reader

@5oh5 masterlist fic: From Eden Joel Miller x f!reader

@netherfeildren masterlist fic: The Cassandra Complex Din Djarin x f!reader

@cavillscurls masterlist fic: divined dynasty Mafia!leader Joel Miller x f!reader

@atticrissfinch masterlist fic: meet me in the back sleazy gas station clerk!joel x fem!reader

@kiwisbell masterlist fic: Loser Frankie Morales x f!reader

@bageldaddy masterlist fic: sundown Joel Miller x fem!reader

@hier--soir masterlist fic: a lover’s pinch Professor! Joel Miller x f!reader fic: raising cain spy!Din Djarin x spy!ofc

@theywhowriteandknowthings masterlist fic: the princess and the duke (cowritten by @angelofsmalldeath-codeine) Dave York x reader

@sweetercalypso masterlist fic: Texas Hold ‘Em Joel Miller x afab!reader

@janaispunk masterlist fic: Making Forts Under Covers Joel Miller x f!reader

@cool-iguana fic: refuge

@ilovepedro masterlist

@macfrog masterlist

@saradika masterlist

@penvisions masterlist

#community fic recs #fic recs #pedro pascal fanfiction #end of the year fic recs #fanfiction community #writing community #pedro pascal characters #boost #signal boost!!

[psychedelic-ink]

Hello everyone! this month was both fast and stressful for me, so much so I remembered this morning that I haven't made a rec list which is why this is posted on the second and not the first. Thank you to all the amazing writers who give us stunning stories that we can find comfort in. Love you all 💜💜💜

please show your support by commenting and/or reblogging!

categories include: pedro pascal characters (pero tovar, ezra, frankie morales, marcus pike, jack daniels, jack daniels, din djarin, tim rockford, frankie morales, javier p), the last of us (joel miller) marvel (steven grant, tasm!peter parker)

as always don't forget to check the warnings before reading!

click here for last months fic recommendations

PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS

Bekväm by @whataperfectwasteoftime (ezra)

spring fling by @/whataperfectwasteoftime (marcus pike)

Between the Raindrops by @jazzelsaur (frankie morales | series)

Pretty Please by by @/jazzelsaur (dieter bravo)

home is wherever i’m with you by @saradika (din djairn | series)

Learned Something New by @wheresarizona (jack daniels)

mando + breeding drabble by @the-scandalorian (din djarin)

you make loving fun by @redahlia-writes (frankie morales | series)

Relaxation Techniques by @mandoblowmybackout (marcus pike)

Psychomanteum by @whatsnewalycat (dieter bravo | series)

weeknights drabble by @frannyzooey (frankie morales | series)

Only Backwards by @pennyserenade (dieter bravo)

untitled by @boliv-jenta (tim rockford)

neon demons by @pedrito-friskito (javier p)

kudzu by @beskarberry (ezra)

Jack Daniels x tattoo parlour AU by @fuckyeahdindjarin (jack daniels)

Dieter Bravo x Roommates AU by @/fuckyeahdindjarin

Saturday’s with Javier: Sleepless Nights by @wildemaven (javi p)

The Secrets We Keep… by @/wildemaven (dave york)

Meant To Be by @radiowallet (oberyn martell | series)

untitled by @intheorangebedroom (frankie morales)

Sex, Lies and Videotapes by @astroboots (frankie morales, santiago garcia)

More Sex, No Lies but still a Videotape by @/astroboots (frankie morales, santiago garcia)

indecently dishonest by @lavendertales (javier p)

one step at a time by @foli-vora (pero tovar | series)

little black dress by @inklore (javier p)

warm up by @ezrasbirdie (dieter bravo)

Rockford & Roan by @littlemisspascal (tim rockford | series)

TLOU

Break by @toomanystoriessolittletime

Short Days, Long Nights by @frannyzooey

start carvin', darlin' by @nexusnyx

Threads by @fuckyeahdindjarin

Adjustments by @softlyspector

Old soul by @/softlyspector

surrender by @ezrasbirdie (series)

MARVEL

Cherry Lips by @astroboots (steven grant)

'til kingdom come by @pedrito-friskito (tasm!peter parker)

#.sil's monthly fic recs #april recs #fic recs #joel miller x reader #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #steven grant x reader #frankie morales x reader

[morallyinept]

A list of all my favourite DAVE YORK Fic Recs, with the writers tagged. Includes fics I am currently reading/want to read.

PART 1

Please show some love to the writers by re-blogging and commenting on their work. 🖤

⚠️ Please ensure you check the triggers/warnings etc... on the stories themselves as some of them may not be suitable to your own particular tastes.

Desperation - @theywhowriteandknowthings

Dollhouse, Broken Sleep & Wonderful Tonight Featuring Frankie Morales - @psychedelic-ink

Bound For Carnage Series - @psychedelic-ink

Scotch & Cherry - @ghostfanwriter Tutor!Reader

I Can Barely Breathe, True North & Anchor - @yespolkadotkitty

My Girl Featuring Frankie Morales, Your Taste I Crave, Sharpshooter, Kinktober 22 Lactation & After Hours - @foli-vora

Just A Piece - @palioom

The Cabin In The Woods Part 1, Part 2 & Part 3 - @xdaddysprincessxx Dark!Dead Dove

Dave York Masterlist - @absurdthirst So many good ones on there!

Isn't She A Doll? - @proxima-writes

Three Days - @massivedreamer CartelBossF!Reader

Revenge, Stupid Little Heart & Drabble 1 - @toomanystoriessolittletime

Amarum & A Healing Touch - @juletheghoul

Red & Unholy Series - @alwaysdjarin

Summer Schooled Series Featuring Joel Miller, You Say Hate But I Think You Mean The Other Thing Series & Dave Masterlist - @boliv-jenta

My Best Friend's Dad Series & Dave York Masterlist - @whiskeynwriting

The Senator's Daughter Series - @detectivecarisi-1 Bodyguard!Dave

The Secrets We Keep - @wildemaven

The Violence Of You, Dark!Dave Ropes, Reckless, Pitch Black Series Blind!OFC, Stay With Me, Intimidation Tactics Series Featuring Marcus Pike & Special Virgin!Reader - @whataperfectwasteoftime

A Valentine's In Reverse - @littlebirdsbookshelf

1k Smut Sensation Thigh Riding - @thetriumphantpanda

Antagonists - @getitoutofmymindwrites

Thirteen Days Series - @josephquinnswhore

Two For One - @suzdin Featuring Max Phillips

Drown In Your Wrath & Fury & You Made Me A Villain - @movievillainess721

Appreciation Series F!Nanny Reader, The Storm, Religious Corruption Series Virgin!Reader, Silent, This Is Me Trying Series Surgeon!Dave, & A Little Taste - @pedropascalsx

The Good, The Bad & The Naughty, Attending Mr York Series, One Week With Dave York Series, & Cherry Kisses - @popcornforone

Precious Possessions Series - @exquisiteserotonin

Emptiness - @deadhumourist SoftDom!Dave

Desires & Complications Series - @ezrasbirdie Featuring Marcus Pike

Notes On Tutoring Series - @honestly-shite Music College AU

Assistance - @adancedivasmom

Mine - @theewokingdead F!NannyReader

Needs & Wants - @thefloorisbalaclava

Interrogation - @secretwriterpp Dark/Violence Featuring Frankie Morales

Yours, Rulebreaker, Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This) & Temptation - @wheresarizona

Eres Mia Series - @loslentesdepedrito Featuring Marcus Pike

Kinktober Day 4 Breath Play - @moralesispunk

Satisfy Me - @whiskeyncoke-redux

Desired Punishment Series Dark!Dave & Office Rendezvous - @coastielaceispunk

Burnt Honey - @pedrito-friskito

Risk - @katareyoudrilling

Larks & Katydids - @kiwisbell AO3 Link

Daddy Dave Masterlist - @pintsizemama

Volatile - @javier-pena

Dave Request - @radiowallet

Façade - @furious-rogue-stuff

Killer Writing Series - @wardenparker

#pedro pascal characters #dave york #fic recs #dave york x f!reader #dave york the equalizer 2 #the equalizer 2 #dave york x reader #dave york smut #dave york fanfiction #dave york fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character universe #dave york x you #dave york x female reader

[starwarsficnetwork]

Din Djarin Writers

Banner by the lovely @theywhowriteandknowthings

Writers! Tag us or use the hashtag #starwarsficnetwork to be featured! But please have your age/age range in your bio. If you’d like to be removed, send us a dm!

*will be updated regularly*

Listed in alphabetical order:

@absurdthirst

@againstacecilia

@atinylittlepain

@babygirlispunk

@beecastle

@beskarandblasters

@concussed-to-pieces

@cool-iguana

@davnittbraes

@deathwife

@djarinsbeskar

@djarins-cyare

@djarinmuse

@djarins-wife

@drawingdroid

@ezrasbirdie

@ezrasversion

@forever-rogue

@frannyzooey

@fuckyeahdindjarin

@handspunyarns

@jksprincess10

@joelscruff

@juletheghoul

@justagalwhowrites

@kewwrites

@littlemisspascal

@lincolndjarin

@marisferasiop

@millersdjarin

@netherfeildren

@oonajaeadira

@pedrito-friskito

@prolix-yuy

@proxima-writes

@psychedelic-ink

@radiowallet

@rinixo

@saradika

@softlyspector

@the-scandalorian

@theidiotwhowritesthings

@theywhowriteandknowthings

@toxic-seduction

@wildfirewildflower

@zialltops

#din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #din djarin x reader

[littlemisspascal]

2023 & Me

Been thinking a lot these past few days about everything that's happened with me in 2023. Hard to believe it's coming to end--time seriously does fly 😮

There's been some heavy losses this year. Several family members passed away to illnesses and old age, including my grandfather who I had a strained relationship with to say the least. I also had a shocking family drama bomb dropped on me earlier this month that has had a huge ripple effect I'm still navigating, but fingers crossed things will find a way of working out for the best.

I had some severe mental health depression episodes throughout the year, made me reevaluate priorities and also doubt pretty much every choice I've ever made in life, but I do truly believe I'm entering 2024 in a positive mindset so that's something to be happy about :) I'mma try this crazy concept called self-love and not think the worst about me, myself, and I.

My writing took a hit this year. Word count wise, kudos wise, engagement wise--but I also made progress on several wips and even finished a few which is a big accomplishment for a snail writer like me 😊 I want to enter 2024 not feeling guilty for being self-indulgent or trying new kinds of writing styles. I also want to shake off the belief a low note count equals it was a bad fic/waste of time -- I don't believe that for anyone else, yet my brain always uses it as a weapon of insecurity against myself and enough is enough brain 😠 no more I say!

On a more positive note, I was fortunate enough to attend several conventions this year and improve my cosplay skills (2024 Ahsoka is gonna be my best look yet I just know it 😁). I got to meet total sweethearts Jon Bernthal and Charlie Cox, Steve Burns my childhood hero, the dear Jodi Benson, the gorgeous Rosario Dawson and beautiful Ming-Na Wen, and of course I can't ever forget Andrew Garfield 😱💗 And most importantly of all I did each these cons with my sister and made some lifelong memories! (Also bought a heckin lot of stickers. A heckin lot 🥰)

And then of course the crown jewel of 2023 1000% hands down was attending the United States Formula 1 Grand Prix. Good lord y'all it was one of the best weekends of my entire life! If you had asked me a couple years ago if I'd care about a sport--any sport--I'd have laughed in your face but there's just something so addictive and captivating about the world of F1 and its cast of characters. And having the luck of getting Alex Albon and Daniel Ricciardo's autographs on my dumb lil frog bucket hat was just *muffled screaming* I literally was a shaking mess lemme tell ya--just ask @beecastle and @undercoverpena who were there with me on my phone every step of the way 💜 thanks for putting up with my addiction y'all! Much much love to you both!!

AND THE FRIGGIN FACT SOMEONE GOT A PHOTO OF ME AND DANNY TOGETHER 🥺😭😭 NEVER BE OVER IT NOPE

There are so many people on here that made 2023 a bright and kind and fun one for me---@oonajaeadira @something-tofightfor @wheresarizona @trinkets01 @kyberblade @sofasoap @grogusmum @writeforfandoms @psychedelic-ink @kteague @prolix-yuy @wildemaven @the-blind-assassin-12 @practicalghost @gnpwdrnwhiskey @bishtrouille @nothoughtsjustmeds @kirsteng42 @miraclesabound @radiowallet @harriedandharassed @hopeamarsu and dozens dozens dozens more!

Thank you to everyone who's liked, reblogged, commented on my blog + sent me messages! I appreciate and love you all so much more than words can ever express 💜💗💙🧡

2024---let's bring it on! 🥳

#i have spoken

[magpie-writes]

Catching Snowflakes

Part One

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Wordcount: 1.6k

Summary: Din and his latest bounty crash land on an ice planet. Can you trust each other enough to survive?

Tags: Enemies to lovers. This chapter is pretty tame but things will, ahem, heat up soon. Pre-Grogu.

Author’s Note: Unbetaed, but thank you to @acrossthesestars for gently bullying me into getting back on the writing horse. Thank you also to @radiowallet for her advice about all things fic. I love you both lots.

“Is this what you meant by bringing me in cold? Because I gotta say, there must be an easier way.”

The Mandalorian kneeling beside you in the snow responds with an irritated grunt - which is more of a response than you’ve gotten in the hours since the two of you crash landed on this icy planet. You feel a surge of triumph at getting that much of a win although, with your hands in binders, you know it’s nothing more than a hollow victory.

Still, if all you can do is needle him with your words, jabbing in between the unprotected places in his armor like the stinging sleet currently sliding down the back of your neck, you’ll take it.

Neither of you are dressed for this. Standing in the grey leggings, lavender tunic, and thin woolen coat he’d tracked you down in, you’re halfway to frostbitten already. Still, smug satisfaction curls in your belly as you take in the ice riming the bounty hunter’s normally shining beskar. Opaque white crackles over the plates of his armor like frost on a windowpane, its crystalline branches spreading further and further the longer he crouches beside the open panel of his Razor Crest. One of the engines blew hours after he captured you, forcing the ship into a tailspin he’d only just managed to pull out of before making a heavy landing into powdery drifts of snow seemingly as tall as he is.

He’s spent the time since then swearing under his breath and wrestling with various tools, neither of which has accomplished more than getting a few lights to blink on and off, and delaying the inevitable - him handing you over to the people who hired him, collecting the bounty on your head, and leaving you to your fate.

A shiver that has nothing to do with the weather runs through you at the thought.

“Dank ferrik!” The Mandalorian throws a wrench into a nearby drift and rises to his feet to, you can only assume, glare down at the offending mechanism.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Is this going to delay you collecting your reward money? That’s such a pity for you.”

The black void of his visor turns to you and it takes every stubborn bone in your body not to quail beneath that flat, empty stare. You lean against the ship instead, a look of mock sympathy on your face.

“Why don’t you wait in the ship?” The hunter extends an arm towards the still-open hatch in exaggerated “invitation,” his deep voice tight with impatience.

“And miss all the fun?” Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, all innocence. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

-

Luckily for your extremities, the Mandalorian manages to wrestle some systems online not too much later. The Crest remains grounded, navigation and comms are still down, and he doesn’t seem optimistic about the weapons system, but the atmospherics flicker back to life, filling the Crest with light and welcome heat.

For a little while, at least.

Before you’ve even finished thawing your chilled fingers over a vent, your captor powers the ship down until all that’s left are a few low lights and the barest whisper of heat. When you shoot a look at him, he shrugs one metal-clad shoulder.

“Need to conserve power.”

Raising your manacled hands, the steel as frigid as the air outside, you demand “Think you’ll still get full price if I’m missing pieces?”

You try to force down the thought that he probably would.

He shuffles his feet for a moment, uncertain, then pulls something out of a nearby crate with a sigh.

“Come here.”

You scoff and take a step backward, your hands raised in defiance. “If you think I’m getting any closer to you than I have to, you soulless, money-grubbing -“

The Mandalorian catches your hands in his gloved ones, his grasp firm but not painfully so, and shoves something smooth and metallic against your palm, making you gasp.

It’s warm.

Your fury temporarily forgotten, you almost groan at the relief as heat radiates to the tips of your fingers. You cup your hands around the polished metal blazing like a tiny sun between your skin and his gloves.

“A hand warmer?” You look up to find the Mandalorian studying your expression, his helmeted head tilted to one side, before nodding once.

“Why didn’t you get one sooner?”

“I just have the one.”

As the heat spreads between you, the ice on his gloves begins to melt, the moisture rising into the cold air as steam. If you were anywhere else, with anyone else, you’d make some flirtatious joke about it. Surprised as you still are by the kindness of his gesture, that humor surfaces despite your better instincts, and a wry smile tugs at your lips.

“Do you hold hands with all your bounties, or just the half-frozen ones?”

The Mandalorian drops your hands like he’s been burned. Only your lightning quick reflexes save the handwarmer from dropping to the floor and, caught off guard, you attempt to hand it back to him.

“Keep it.” He nearly stumbles over a crate in his rush to put more distance between you. “I’m uh, gonna go work on the ship some more.”

Before you can think of a response, he turns and walks back into the howling wind. Alone.

-

Hours later, you toss and turn on the bunk you found while exploring the confines of the ship. It’s surprisingly comfortable, if small, the mattress thin but serviceable, and the blankets thick enough to wrap yourself in. They’re cleaner than you’d worried they’d be, carrying only a faint hint of what you guess must be the Mandalorian’s scent. Worn leather, softened by what you suspect may be beeswax. The tang of metal and burn of carbon. And something subtler. Warm, almost spiced. There’s something oddly comforting about it - or would be, if it didn’t remind you of the man who was hauling you to a grisly fate.

With a sigh, you flip yourself onto your back and stare up into the darkness. Where *is* that man, anyway? If he dies out in the cold, there’s no guarantee you’ll be better off. Not with the comms down and the ship grounded. You could take your chances that there might be a settlement nearby, but you hadn’t caught any glimpses of one as the Crest was plummeting to the planet’s surface. Besides, with no winter weather gear, your odds of making it any distance before collapsing are… not great.

You’re up and moving before consciously arriving at a decision.

-

The wintry night air whips around you, lashing the warmth from the blanket clutched around your shoulders before you can brace for its icy onslaught. It’s shockingly, brutally cold. Killing cold. Your teeth are chattering by the time you make it to the Mandalorian’s side.

Snow has drifted against his broad form and icicles cling to the cowl around his neck. He’s not moving and for a moment, you wonder if he actually has frozen to death out here by himself.

Somehow, the possibility doesn’t cheer you the way you thought it would.

“Mando?”

Reaching out, you shake his shoulder hard enough to send snow tumbling down his back, nearly jumping out of your skin when he turns to look at you.

“Maker, don’t scare me like that. What are you doing out here?”

“What do you t-think?” Despite his obvious sarcasm, the Mandalorian’s voice is dull, oddly flat. “Trying to f-fix the engine.”

He tries to rise but wavers on his feet. Instinctively, you reach out, taking his weight when his numbed feet stumble. His Beskar armor is freezing to the touch. You can only imagine how cold he must be beneath all that frozen steel.

“Come on,” you urge, slipping an arm around his waist and encouraging him to lean on you as you make your way back into the moderately warmer ship. “Let’s get you warmed up.”

“You sure you wouldn’t rather leave me to f-fend for myself in the snow? Can’t say I’d b-blame you.”

You cut a glance at the bounty hunter, not sure if he’s joking.

“Oh, I considered it,” you admit breezily as you close the door behind him. Without the furious howling of the wind, the dimly lit ship falls into a hushed silence, quiet enough for you to hear the Mandalorian’s sharp bark of a laugh.

“What changed your mind?”

You shrug, not entirely sure yourself.

He stands and stares at you for a long, long moment before nodding once, murmuring a quiet thank you, and settling onto a nearby crate.

“Wait, Mando, are you going to sleep out here? In your armor?”

“That’s the plan.” He sounds tired, resigned.

“There’s not another bunk? Or…” You’re about to offer to switch places with him but stop, remembering that you’re his captive. His bounty. Why should you care where he sleeps?

“Suit yourself. Just don’t come crying to me when all your joints rust.”

“I’m not a droid.”

For the first time, there’s heat in his voice. It’s enough to make you turn, to glare at him and demand “No? Because you’re heartless enough for one. Tell me something, Mando. Do you even know what they’ll do to me? The people that hired you to bring me down? Or why they put a bounty on me in the first place?”

There’s a long, tense moment and then, “I didn’t ask.”

“Oh? And why not?”

“I never do.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Don’t you think you should start?”

Without waiting for an answer, you turn your back and make for the small cabin. Alone.

It’s only later, when you’re on the blurred edge of sleep, that a question of your own occurs to you: what sort of bounty hunter gives up his own bed for a captive?

#Din Djarin #Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin x Fem!Reader #Din Djarin x F!Reader #My fic #Fic

[magpie-to-the-morning]

Close - An Insatiable Extra

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Frankie Morales x Reader

Word count: 2k

Tags: Edging, bondage, orgasm denial, Mean!Dom Santi vibes, a bit of inspection kink, choking if you squint, fingering, oral sex, PiV sex, fluff

Author’s Note: This oneshot only exists because of @radiowallet. My love. My pumpkin wife. Thank you for bringing me back to my boys. I genuinely wasn’t sure if I’d ever write for them again. 🥹

And a huge thank you to @acrossthesestars​ for beta-reading this filth, much of which I wrote in a haze at 4am 😅

Missed Part One? You can read it here. Which, if you’re not familiar with the worldbuilding and relationships in Insatiable, you may want to check out! This one does mostly stand on its own, other than a few references to the three of them being mates.

“Deseito, please.”

You lean into him, a half smile teasing your lips. “Please what, Frankie?”

Leather creaks as he leans helplessly towards you, his brown eyes large and pleading. 

“Let me touch you.”

You almost weaken at the sight of him straining against his bonds to get to you. It’s hard to resist him like this - his arms pinioned above him, his brow shining with sweat, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips as he drags his hungry gaze down your naked form. He’s mostly bare himself, only a rumpled sheet half-covering his lap. When his cock twitches beneath it, you groan and move towards him - only to be caught around the waist by a pair of strong arms. 

“What did I tell you, leoncita?”

A whimper catches in your throat. “But Santi, he’s so pretty when he begs.” You barely recognize your own voice, rasping with need and ending on a whine. His answering chuckle curls around you like smoke as you lean back against his chest, eyes locked on Frankie’s as they widen in desperation.

Santi’s lips trail down the side of your neck, making you shiver in his hold. When his teeth sink into the sensitive spot that meets your shoulder, you gasp and arch your back, one hand fisting in his wild curls. Frankie moans as your peaked nipples arch almost close enough for him to get his mouth on. You lean forward, encouraging him, craving him, but Santi draws you back with a smirk at the last moment. 

“You two need to learn how to behave.” 

He’s been edging the two of you for hours. It started as a game between him and Frankie - to see who could bring you closest to the edge without pushing you over. Santi hadn’t counted on how easily his partner caved to your pleas for release. If he hadn’t grabbed the other man by the jaw and hauled him from between your legs, Frankie would have made you cum on his tongue ages ago. But Santi, the competitive bastard, hadn’t wanted the game to end so soon. He’d lashed Frankie to the bed and given you both a choice. Stay in line and only cum at his say so, and he’d make your pleasure last for hours. Or, give in to temptation, cum quickly, and call it a night. 

It hadn’t been a choice at all. 

Still, he’s got the two of you wound tight enough to burst. Slick drips down your thighs and you press them together in a desperate search for friction. Frankie’s cock is swollen and aching, and both of you are breathing hard, half-dazed with desire and torn between need and obedience.

Santi knows it, too. Takes full advantage of how worked up the two of you are for him. He gets off on it - his two loves, following him to the razor’s edge and trusting him to keep them there. The enormity of that trust staggers him - but it doesn’t stop him being an absolute menace when he’s riled. 

His fingers dip between your legs, a lazy inspection of your velvet heat. He nudges your legs wider, putting on a show while Frankie looks hungrily on. You tip your head back and roll your hips, driving yourself against Santi’s hand. You know it won’t last, that Santi is only pouring fuel on the fire, but you let yourself savor it while you can, loving the feeling of his thick fingers gliding in slow, lingering circles, the effortless way he cups your sex, his fingertips just beginning to breach your dripping center.

“She’s so wet, Frank,” he murmurs. “You gotta feel this.”

The ferocity of the glare Frankie turns on him makes the other man sigh and relent. “Fine.” He rocks back on his heels, releasing you from his hold.

You whine when his hand slips away, chasing his touch. Frankie moans and strains toward you. There’s a creaking noise as he moves and even the solid headboard starts to lean. The thought of him being so close but still so far out of reach makes you whimper. 

“Shh, baby,” Santi soothes. “Go give our mate some love before he breaks something.”

“Asshole,” Frankie mutters, even as his mouth quirks up and he relaxes a fraction. 

Santi leans around you to slap him affectionately on the thigh. “Watch it,” he warns, “Or I’ll fuck her right here and leave you out of it.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” You toss him a smile over your shoulder, your heart skipping a beat at Santi’s roguish wink and the sight of him licking the taste of you from his fingers. It’s impossible to say which is hotter - that, or Frankie licking his lips in anticipation at your approach, and for the thousandth time, you feel a wave of gratitude for never having to choose between them. The three of you are a unit, the bond between you only growing stronger the longer you’re together.

Throwing a leg over that same spot that Santi had smacked, you lower yourself slowly onto Frankie’s thigh, taking pleasure in his sharp intake of breath as you do so. He’s so warm and solid beneath you, his muscles flexing at your touch, the movement bringing you into even more intimate contact with him. Hands on his shoulders, you grind down against him, savoring his heat and strength. 

“Hey, baby,” he grins up at you.

“Hey, love.” And then you’re kissing him. Unable to hold you, he hitches his thigh to draw you closer. His kisses are hungry, insistent, all tongue and teeth and ragged panting into your open mouth. You melt into him, one arm wound around his neck, the other dropping between you to grasp his cock. Frankie hisses at your touch, his swollen length twitching against your palm. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his forehead pressed to yours as he rolls his hips and fucks your fist. “You feel so fucking good.” 

“You too,” you gasp, your slick folds dragging against him. “Don’t stop.” 

He doesn’t.

You could finish this way. Skin to skin and mouth to mouth, shuddering and gasping as you roll together. Frankie knows it too. Feels it, that moment when your hips begin to stutter, your movements turning sloppy, desperate. His brows draw together and he starts to swear in low, rapid Spanish. You only catch a few words, a string of muttered pleas, or possibly curses. It’s sacred. Profane. Saints and sinners, heaven and hell, blood and soul. 

It’s everything. 

Santi’s at your back once more, his hands on your hips and a wicked smile pursing his lips. “You’ve got a hell of a mouth on you, Fish. Need me to fill it up?”

He lifts you up just far enough to push his cock between your sex and Frankie’s thigh. It’s slick and obscene and you think you could cum just from the sight of his swollen cock jutting between your thighs. You grind down, riding both of them, grip tightening around Frankie as his brows pinch at the sight, his tether clearly about to snap. 

Santi sees it too. 

“That’s enough.” When neither of you slow, he hauls you bodily apart. “Don’t make me tell you again.” Stern amusement tinges his voice but you know he means it.

“God damn it, Santi!” Every part of your body crackles with frustrated energy. You feel like a live wire casting off sparks, any one of them capable of setting off the wildfire building beneath your skin.

Frankie’s no better off. He’s fighting for control, unwilling to let either of you down, despite how badly he needs to cum. 

You’re not sure how much longer either of you can take this. 

This time, Santi doesn’t make you wait for his next move. He puts you where he wants you - on your knees in front of him, your ass in the air, eye level with Frankie’s cock. This time you don’t wait for permission, not from Santi. You lower your mouth onto Frankie, swallowing him eagerly, and nodding encouragement when his hips buck. 

“Baby,” he groans. You hum and swirl your tongue around his blunt tip. Salt and musk lay heavy on your tongue and when he bumps the back of your throat, you drool contentedly around him. 

Santi wraps a hand around your hip, steadying you as he pushes into your slick heat with a low moan. He chuckles approvingly when you push back against him.

“This what you needed?”

“Mmf-hmmm,” you mumble around Frankie’s cock, your nods pushing him even deeper down your throat. He gives a strangled groan and his hips jerk.

“Shit, I’m so close.”

Your skin feels tight, tingling, as you hang suspended between them, filled to the brim and so close to the bright edge of release. You can feel it barreling towards you as they move in tandem, white-hot pleasure building deep inside and threatening to burst behind your eyes. 

When your inner walls begin to flutter, Santi wraps a hand around your throat and growls “don’t you do it.” 

You close your eyes and breathe deeply not to cum just from that.

It’s only when you wrestle back control that you realize they’ve both gone still. Santi to prolong your torment, and Frankie because he knows if he so much as twitches, he’ll cum straight down your throat. Your cunt is throbbing with need and tears prick behind your eyes. You’re at the end of your rope, and Frankie’s fraying fast.

Carefully, you ease back and off of him and turn pleading eyes to your other mate.

“Santi, I love you, but if you don’t let us cum we might actually die.” 

He lays one hand on your cheek, eyes softening when you lean into his touch. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” 

Leaning in, he kisses you soft and slow, then nods towards Frankie’s bound hands. “Go on, then.” 

Before you can even reach for the belt, Frankie twists himself free, as if it weren’t leather restraining him, but only Santi’s word. He’s on you in a rush, scooping you onto his lap in grasping Santi’s shoulder to pull him closer in the same rough movement.

They fuck you between them, their cocks gliding in and out and together until you writhe as one in an eager, desperate rhythm. Your kisses grow sloppy as you gasp and cling, one set of teeth scraping over your jaw while another tongue plunders your open mouth. It’s slick and needy and then -

And then your breath catches, pleasure spiraling to a molten pinpoint, then exploding like a star. You shake and tremble in their arms, only their sweat-slick limbs propping your liquid body up as you dissolve between them. Frankie groans, nearly undone, and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, a look of martyred focus on his face, but Santi grasps the back of his head, keeping the other man’s gaze fixed on his.

“Do it,” he orders, eyes burning like coals. “Fucking cum.” 

As if from a great distance, you feel Frankie’s hold tighten as his spine stiffens, then a hot, pulsing rush as he cums. Even as his lips part on a ragged moan, his furrowed brow smooths, relief flooding him even as he fills you.

Only when both of you sag, finally, finally sated, does Santi find his own end, burying himself inside you with a satisfied grunt and spilling deep inside. 

The next several minutes pass in a haze. Frankie’s fingers intertwining with yours. Santi’s forehead dropping to your shoulder. Your lips brushing over their brows, noses, eyelids. Lingering, affectionate touches, meant to soothe and ground. Muscles trembling, and with breathy chuckles at your baby-deer limbs, the three of you somehow lower yourselves onto the mattress, legs still tangled and bodies draped over each other, unwilling or unable to let go just yet. 

Or maybe ever.

#Frankie Morales x Reader #Santiago Garcia x Reader #Frankie Morales x You #Santiago Garcia x You #Santiago Garcia x Frankie Morales #Triple Frontier fic #Insatiable #Fic #My fic

[radiowallet]

Meant to Be - Part 1

The Arrangement

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand, Eventual Oberyn Martell x Fem!OC (nameless, third person) Summary: Preparations for Oberyn's future are made. WC: 4.7K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Canon-typical violence, grief, death, political intrigue, arragned marriage, drinking, mentions of food, allusions to vaginal sex, Oberyn being a sexy little shit. Oberyn Martell comes with his own warning.

A/N: Hello besties! Welcome to my first foray into a multi-chapter GoT fic. Before we dive in, a few things to keep in mind: This is an alternate universe that takes place after the main events of the show. Bran is still king of Westeros. Sansa is still queen of the north. Oberyn lives. Doran never had any children. Our Fem!OC is from Winterfell, but she is not a Stark and is a blank canvas physically. I'm excited to play around with two tropes I don't write (arranged marriages and soulmates) and try something different! Thank you for joining me on this little journey!

Masterlist II Series Masterlist

>>> Part 2

Arrange yourself for my heart

Plan for it, in all its splendor

Prepare and shape and mold yourself

To me, For me, With me

---------------

Oberyn had always considered Dorne to be the center of Westeros. The thought was born out of bias, his love for his home and his people always tilting the scales in a way most would deem unfair. But it was more than just a loyalty birthed from love that tied his heart to the southernmost part of the map. Dorne was beautiful - hills of sand, a burning sun, and two seas with water so blue and waves so deep. The fruit was sweeter, the wine stronger, the days dipped in languid honey gold. 

With the war over and justice delivered in more ways than one, Oberyn had thought there would be no better feeling than his return to the sandy shores of Sunspear. Even with his heartbeat muted with grief for a beloved sister lost, he still felt a soft swell of peace when his feet touched those first sandy dunes, the sound of crashing waves filling his head, the sun-soaked air coating his lungs.

Oberyn did not think it possible for that peace to be so easily taken.

“Marriage?”

“Yes, brother. Marriage.”

Funny how one word can skew the direction of one’s life so quickly. How the prospect of something that most would easily agree to, perhaps even take joy in, could shake and shatter an easy landing.

Doran says the word so matter of factly, leaning back in his wheelchair, regarding Oberyn across the long width of the table, his studious gaze more piercing than it has any right to be. A full breakfast is spread out between them — berries and cheese and honey-glazed breads sweeter than sin — meant as a welcome home in honor of the second-born prince, a celebration for his triumph over The Mountain. Tonight there would be a feast, one to mark the end of the war and the Lannister’s reign; a newly crowned King of Westeros to toast to. 

Oberyn had been looking forward to the pomp and circumstance, if only to give him a chance to drown himself in Dornish wine, the promise of sleeping off the effects in Ellaria’s arms in his own bed a tempting reward for his troubles. He had expected a lecture of some sort from his brother in the between of it all; a request he take a seat on some council or maybe a post within the city watch. He would have even entertained an encouragement to begin the search anew for his soulmate.

But now he sees his brother’s ploy for what it truly is. 

A trick.

A game.

An arrangement.

Tension stretches out between the two men, years of twisted perception coloring their opinions of one another, all manner of things unsaid mixed amongst the decadent feast that now lies untouched.

“I have never entertained the idea of a wife. Not once. I hardly see why you think I would now, my Lord.” Oberyn lets the last word drip from his lips with utter disdain, refusing to acknowledge the propriety of station when his brother has tried to trick him so. One of the many benefits of being second born was the lack of obligation on his part, and he had exploited the fact in excess, happy to allow his brother all the privilege of a crown. 

A privilege, it seemed in his brother’s mind, had run its due course.

“Because, Prince Oberyn,” Doran starts, his words spoken with a careful pace, “you are to be named my heir.”

The ground falls out from beneath his chair, every single sound within the great hall expanding and focusing in on him; every color too bright, every noise too loud. The crash of the waves against the palace walls is suddenly overwhelming, a sound that once reminded him of his home now a painful cacophony in his ears.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Oberyn is standing, one word heavy on the tip of his tongue, and yet it will not come. 

Doran, ever patient, continues on. “You will be Lord of Sunspear, Oberyn, as is your right by birth and by decree.”

“And if I refuse?” He murmurs, eyes trained on the grainy wood of the table below. “The marriage? Your throne?”

His eyes flit to the other man just in time to see his reaction. Doran, for his part, looks surprised, the sentiment pulling a chuckle from deep within Oberyn’s chest. Could his brother really be so obtuse? So set in his own ways? Was he truly incapable of accepting that some may not long for power? 

At the sound of his laughter, the older man scowls, dark eyes set upon him with barely cloaked anger. For a moment, Oberyn thinks he sees his brother move to stand, a pained look stealing across his features briefly before settles back further into his seat and speaks again. 

“Have you no sense of honor left, my brother? Did your battle with The Mountain steal the last of your love for your family away? Or perhaps justice was the only thing keeping you tethered to us?”

“I avenged our sister–”

“Who is gone! She is gone, Oberyn,” Doran urges, one finger pushing down onto the table, emphasizing his point with practiced precision. “And it is us who remain! To carry on, just the same as those who came before. It is our right! Our duty! We need an heir. A legitimate hei–”

“My daughters are legitimate!” The interruption is roared, the scream of his voice echoing up into the wide open ceilings, coated in an anger he had thought he left to die beneath the suffocating rubble of the Red Keep. The fury leaves him as fast as it came, and in its wake there seems to be only one option left.

He turns away abruptly, icy cold spite bleeding out between the brothers with every step he takes away.

---------------

The charcoal in her hand smells of smoke, earthy and bitter, a scent that will cling to her fingers long after the day is done. It’s a perfect bedfellow to the fire crackling in the far corner of the room, the bright blend of reds and yellows giving just the barest illusion of warmth. 

Winterfell was named well. Even with winter fading into the pages of the history books, the north still carried a bitter cold, one she feared she would never be fond of. 

Her entire lifetime had been spent between the cold stone, searching for moments of warmth beneath her mother’s skirts or father’s arms. They were stolen, like bits of bread or cheese when the cooks had their backs turned, a tiny treat to melt on her tongue when nothing else in the frigid halls of Winterfell could. 

Her parents were gone now, casualties of time and its ever pressing need to march forward. She counts the smallest of blessings that they were gone before the Walkers came, thankful at least that they were spared the heartache of war.

They passed quietly, together in their bed, hands intertwined, palms pressed tightly; soulmates destined to walk those last steps together. A strange twinge dips down low in her belly; something like jealousy, she thinks, that her parents found each other so easily. They moved together with such certainty. A confidence given by fate or the Gods or whatever it was that made the world exist as it did. 

And in contrast, she had decided long ago, that she would gladly trade the suredness of a match to her soul if it meant she got a say in the outcome of her life.

Still – did her life look any different now than it did back then? Perhaps in the grandest of schemes. But…

Her father had been in charge of the stables, her mother a close companion to Lady Stark. And now she held a similar seat, sitting near the side of Sansa Stark, once her childhood playmate, grown into the Queen of the North. School lessons and daydreaming exchanged for talks of trade agreements and wall management. If she closed her eyes it would be easy to imagine two young girls in thick dresses and fur lined coats giggling over future soulmates and happily ever afters.

For the smallest moment in time, Sansa had hoped her soul’s match to be Joffrey, waxing poetic about true love and blonde haired babies. Though there had been endless heartache surrounding the truth, it had been a day she celebrated when the raven arrived from King’s Landing, Sansa’s elegant handwriting informing her that she and Joffrey were not to be wed. 

So many things never came to pass, for either of them. Soulmates and love stories set aside in the name of survival, and through it all, she watched as the younger girl grew to hold the weight of a crown she was born to wear. And she was content to live the rest of her days honoring the Starks the same as her parents did, ever aware of all she has to thank them for.

A roof over her head and a job to do – a noblewoman by the queen’s decree – she helped uphold House Stark at Sansa’s behest and in return, was given the freedom to do as she pleases within the confines of Winterfell’s stone walls. Council meetings littered with talks of policy and procedures sitting neatly between walks through the woods and time spent fireside, her fingers stained black, her dresses soaked with snow, her head swimming with negotiations. Lineage and duty tied her to this cold place, history and love filled it with warmth. 

She considers the scrap of parchment in her lap, the blacks blended into varied shades of grey, a picture of an empty chair staring back at her. She traces the shape of it, a regal rendering, more throne than chair, but it looked lonely in the bleak streaks of black and white. Something missing that she couldn’t put a name to. 

The image had come to her in a dream, the compulsion to sketch it following quickly after. When the queen had dismissed her for the day, she retreated quickly and quietly to the main sitting room, fingers itching for the warmth of charcoal, for the smooth feel of parchment, the empty chair sitting heavy at the back of her dream.

Perhaps if she could see it, hold it, in more than just her mind’s eye, then its purpose would present itself. 

The only answer she’s given is the snap of the fire at the far end of the room. 

---------------

Oberyn has no desire to make mention of Doran’s plans to Ellaria. Upon his arrival to his quarters he sends for her, the servant given the task in a venomous tongue that he’ll remind himself to apologize for later. For now he kicks off his boots and strips down to his trousers, pacing the room from end to end, the monotony doing nothing to contain his frustrations. 

He considers the how and the why and the who of his current situation, anxious for someone to blame, desperate for a way out. He snaps his jaw and bites his teeth, sinking deeper into memories as he stalks about his quarters; marriage, to whatever end, never seemed as advantageous as most made it out to be. He had learned a whole lifetime’s history on the subject within the walls of the citadel, his own familial experiences confirming what books had taught him. 

A sister wed to a dragon in the name of peace —dead. A brother betrothed to his soul’s true match — alone. 

And now he…

No. 

Oberyn refuses to even consider the ridiculous notion coming to fruition.  

He leaves the very idea of weddings and brides and political good-will behind him, moving to the open terrace just off of his sitting room, intent to sulk in silence beneath the late morning sun. He throws himself down onto the nearest chaise, pouring himself a full glass of wine, and then a second, urging the sweet liquid to wash away the bitter taste of breakfast. His eyes close, the crash of the waves lulling him into a restless sleep, the heat of Dorne burning the backs of his eyelids as he ignores the reality of his brother’s sensible voice.

A different voice of reason is what drags him back from the flames. 

“Something troubles you.”

Ellaria Sand has always been too clever for Oberyn’s own good. She watches him with a calculating eye, a patience that matches his impetuous nature in more ways than he could bother to count, and in many ways she is his perfect match. There was no one better to lead his fledglings, his sandsnakes, his family. Even now, after years of sharing in each other, bending and curving to match their hearts together over time. They know what makes the other moan, cry, beg, and he is more than confident in his affections for her. 

But oh, how she vexes him so. 

“The only thing that troubles me is that it has been too long since I felt the curve of your body beneath my own.” 

She smiles, her lips yielding sweetly to him, but something curls at the back of her dark eyes, some sort of secret that he’s certain he should already know but cannot remember. He will not ask and she does not speak it. Neither would dare in the state that he’s in. Instead she steps between his spread legs, thin fingers loosening the sash that barely holds her dress to her skin, revealing herself to the Dornish sun above. 

Oberyn sits up, large palms smoothing around the dip of Ellaria’s hips to cup her backside and pull her forward until the weight of her settles in his lap. She fits to him, molds herself around his body, hard edges and soft curves matched in a way he knows and loves and craves more than words allow, the hard length of his cock fitting deep inside her warmth.

His lips find her skin, mapping a steady path up the column of her neck until finally they meet in a long overdue kiss. Their lips slant together, a soft press at first, just enough to remind him that she is here before he dips his tongue, eager to remind himself of her taste. She’s spiced honey and burning smoke, biting at the corners of his mouth, and Oberyn would gladly suffocate on her if given the chance. 

When he breaks away, it’s with a broken sob masked behind a curse, his forehead falling to her own. A wish neither of them would ever dare to say out loud hangs like a cloud above them, blocking out the heat of the sun. But it does not stop Oberyn from pressing himself to every inch of Ellaria’s skin, hoping against his own foolish heart that this is the day their match is revealed. 

---------------

Sansa Stark strikes an imposing figure. Her red hair and piercing blue eyes burn bright against the soft greys of Winterfell and yet she does not seem out of place. She moved through the halls with purpose, each step taken with intent, each decision made with a warm heart. She cared for her birthright with both her hands, holding it in a way so much like her father but in other ways not. 

She was born for it. Then bred for it.

 

And still, it exhausted her.

 

Sansa sits before her now, boots kicked off, wiggling her stocking-covered toes just out of reach of the fire, her head tipped back and her eyes closed, content in what must be her first moment’s peace since she walked into the great hall this morning.

 

“I’ve had a taxing day, and I’m not sure where to start.”

“Can I suggest the beginning?”

A sharp glare peeks out between long lashes before a crooked smile and the poke of a tongue are pointed her way. She can’t help but tease the queen. Their companionship has always bordered on familiarity, a shared affection between them born from a childhood raised together, a lifelong friendship cemented in the hours of war. Most nights were spent in a manner such as this, idle chit chat fractured between the complaints of leadership while the scratch of charcoal and the crack of the fire kept cadence with both women’s words. Tonight was no different, save for the topic at hand.

“Prince Doran has made a request of me.”

“A request?”

It was not unheard of but still strange to hear from so far south, especially in a time of peace.

 

“A lady for a betrothal to his younger brother.”

 

“The Red Viper?”

Sansa sits up, then nods, eyes trained on the fire, the flames seemingly giving her the strength to carry on. She makes no mention of her time at King’s Landing or her brief passing with the second-born son of Sunspear, her bottom lip caught between the uncomfortable snare of her teeth. If there is a statement to be made on him, on his character or his choices, the queen does not share it, instead watching as the shades of reds and yellows dance before her.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t found his soulmate yet. If the rumors are even considered to be half true, the numbers should be in his favor.”

Girlish snickers ring up high into rafters, the pair of them moving down to the floor, knees folded beneath them, goblets of wine tipping but not spilling in the process. They scoot forward, just enough to feel the warmth of the fire staining their cheeks, sneaky smiles shared between sips of wine.

“Were they asking after Arya?”

Sansa snorts with a roll of her eyes. “I think the entirety of Westeros knows what a fool’s errand that would be.”

 

“You, then?”

Her old friend tracks her gaze from the side of her eyes and they both smile and laugh. A fool's errand, indeed.

 

“Truthfully, Doran did not ask for anyone specific. I think he would be fine if I sent one of our mules as long as Oberyn is wed before summer arrives. No…the decision has fallen to me and my council.”

 

There is something Sansa is not saying, an annoyance left unspoken, digging a trench between the two women. Finally, with a huff and a laugh, she says what the queen is unable to.

 

“The council suggested I make the journey south and accept the Prince’s hand.”

The truth is what finally steals Sansa’s attention from the fireplace, and suddenly she is turning, grasping her hands and speaking with conviction. “I cannot make you. I would never. I…I know the agony of a forced nuptial.”

And then, softly, “But yes. Your name was the first.”

“I am not surprised,” she smiles despite herself. “I do vex the council so.”

 

“A woman of your nature, unmarried and unmatched, allowed to sit at your station is difficult for them to understand. But they forget that it is not their role to object to your presence.”

For a moment’s time neither woman speaks, choosing instead to sit together in silence, fingers tangled, the smell of charcoal and cherry wine permeating the air between them. A life of quiet snow and solid stone is considered, matched to the steady steps of duty and honor mixed with memories of love. She remembers her parents, the love they had for each other, and the love they held for Winterfell and the Starks. She matches it to her own heart, her own dedication, a life promised in honor of the north and to the woman sitting right beside her. 

The only answer possible presents itself clearly.

“I will go.”

---------------

The knock on the door is insistent, dragging Oberyn from sleep in a way he vows revenge for. He had been ignoring it the best he could, burying his face in the curve of Ellaria’s breast, lips finding the pulse of her heart, taking comfort in the beat of it. He’d be content to lay here, his cock hard between his legs, his lips shifting lower to capture the swell of her tit, but the knocking has yet to stop and it isn’t long before she’s pushing on his shoulder, telling him to take care of his business and hurry back to her.

He drags himself from the bed with a curse and a grunt, a cursory glance spared towards the open windows. The violet bursts coloring the sky tell him that dusk is fast approaching, and he can only assume it is a servant on the other side of the door to alert him that the celebrations will be starting soon. He makes the calculated decision to leave his robe on the floor, hoping to either scare whoever it is back to the kitchens or perhaps to tempt them inside to his bed.

 

Oberyn strokes himself slowly, his cock heavy in his hand, still slick with Ellaria’s arousal. He flings the door wide with an exaggerated flourish, a cheeky greeting dancing on the tip of his tongue.

“You can tell my brother I will be dining here tonight, but you’re welcome to jo-”

He stops short at the sight of Doran, dressed head to toe in regal shades of gold, seeming so tall when it’s Oberyn who stands and the Lord of Sunspear sits, his wheelchair pushed to the threshold of his little brother’s sanctuary.

 

“I’m quite alright, thank you. My tastes do match that of Dornish tradition but I’ll stop short of laying with my brother. We’ll leave that sort of thing to lions and dragons, yes?”

There is suddenly the weight of a robe around Oberyn’s shoulders and warm breath in his ear, Ellaria greeting Doran with a nod and a smile.

“It is good to see you, Prince Doran.”

“And you as well, my dear. How fare the girls?”

“Growing like weeds and twice a thorn in my side. They take after their father that way.”

“The best of us do. Speaking of, do you mind if I borrow your dearest paramour? I promise to only take a moment of his time from you.”

Oberyn watches the exchange through a frowned pout, arms crossed in a petulance he’s been wearing since this morning. The pair of them speak as if he isn’t even present, and before he has a chance to object to any of it, Ellaria is pushing him out into the hallway as he hastily ties his robe closed.

 

“I can only assume you are here to promise me that all plans of weddings and succession are done with. Perhaps even an apology to go along with this vow?”

“I think you know that I am decidedly not.”

“Well then you will be disappointed, dearest brother, to find that my stance on the matter has not changed.”

Doran sighs, his forehead falling to his hand, the years more apparent to Oberyn now than ever before. He thinks of maybe lightening the blow, an apology or an offer to sit at his right hand, to alleviate the sting of his refusal, but the words die on his tongue, his brother finding his voice first.

 

“You were given much leeway, Oberyn. Freedom. Mother and Father framed it beneath the guise of looking for your soulmate. A part of me had foolishly hoped, dearest brother, that you were doing just that.”

 

Oberyn wants to laugh, tries to, knocking his knuckles against the wall with a forced chuckle. But the sound breaks too soon and he looks away, considering the high arches and wide open space of his childhood home. How strange that all of sudden it feels entirely too small for his liking. When he finally turns back to Doran, he smiles.

 

“Who’s to say I wasn’t, brother? Skin to skin contact to find the true match to your heart. Is that not what the ancient tomes say?”

 

“You treat it like some game,” his older brother hisses, what sounds like a sneer chasing after his words. “But you do not know what it feels like. To find the other half of your heart, your soulmate. The whole world falls away. It’s a feeling unlike any other and you dismiss it, as if it is this fleeting thing you are too good for.”

Doran’s voice trails off, his eyes misting over in a way that Oberyn has only seen once before. He knows his older brother is thinking of his own love, his own loss; lucky enough to find his soulmate early on, unfortunate enough to lose her not long after. The pain had stolen the light from his brother’s life, any and all joy relegated to the back of his heart. Even the idea of taking a second wife in the name of duty had been too much for Doran to bear.

 

Oberyn was sick for the thought of it.

It hadn’t been hard for him to decide there and then that his love would never hold such rigid definitions

“But you do not know,” Doran keeps going, his voice crushed in frustration. “You run around with that Sand girl—“

“I love her.”

The admission rings out loud in the empty hallway, and Oberyn reveals in it, satisfied in his honesty, no matter the cost. 

“I have no doubt,” Doran agrees quietly. “But if you had found your soulmate, whether they be in the brothels or the beaches, what then? Could you bring yourself to choose?”

He refuses to look away, mournful eyes tracing Oberyn from top to bottom, and for a hair of a second he feels himself so small. Merely a lad desperate to ask his older brother what choice he should make. But the moment passes, impetuous frustration filling up the space between them yet again, his words boiling over the curve of his lips. 

“Why?” Oberyn hisses, bending down until he and Doran are nose to nose, as level a playing field as he can give himself. “Why now? When peace has finally found its way to us?”

“I am dying.”

He forgets how to breathe.

His vision blurs as his face goes numb. His fingers clench around empty air, fingernails digging deep enough to scar the skin of his palm. His skin pulls too tight. His blood burns too hot.

 

He stumbles back, can’t help but, another punch to his overwrought gut, his bare feet tripping as he tries and fails to find his footing.

“No…n-no. It is…you are…” He is muttering, mumbling in disbelief, unable to comprehend this one final truth laid down at his feet. His brother, the one he loves so dearly but resents more than he knows how to say…dying? Taken away? No.

“No.”

“The maesters have done all that they can, and still I grow weaker every day. There is no measure of time they can predict for me, but something in my bones tells me that any day marked as past is a gift that brings me closer to Mellario.”

“And you…have no heir,” Oberyn breathes out, the actuality of his brother’s request finally bearing witness before his eyes.

“I do, little brother.”

Oberyn clenches his jaw and turns away, ignoring the sting of tears in favor of facing the solution head on. There was no way about it now – he would become Lord of Sunspear – or risk allowing the decisions of Dorne’s leadership to fall to the new, and still so very young, king. And though he has no desire to play the game of thrones, it is not lost on him the rules that follow. 

Marriage.

Children.

This will fall to him now.

“Tell me about the girl.”

Doran gives a name; the same given by Sansa Stark, sent by raven only a few nights prior. 

“From the North?” He can’t help the incredulous sound of his voice, and he cringes inwardly at his own knee-jerk assumptions.

“Did your conquest of The Mountain and the end of the Lannister reign not appease you, little brother? Are you still carrying that thirst for vengeance inside you?

Oberyn scoffs. “Certainly not. The Starks were a victim of circumstance, same as most of us. I am just surprised. I thought they named the eldest girl their queen.”

“They did,” Doran confirms, his stance as steady as his answer.

“I did not think she was a fan of forced marriage, what with her messy history with them.”

“She was a little girl then. She is a queen now. Though if it helps alleviate your own feelings towards this particular arrangement, the lady took it upon herself to volunteer. Perhaps a desperation to hold on to her own agency. Not unlike someone else I know.”

“Volunteer? She has agreed to this? Then surely you will call her what she is, Doran – a crown-chasing child.”

“I can assure you she is neither. She is a woman grown and it is her allegiance to the north and her queen that has her agreeing to this arrangement. Nothing more.”

“Then she’s more fool than I feared,” Oberyn murmurs, touching his thumb to his bottom lip. 

“Well then, you’ll be two fools in matrimony. Rest well, my lord. Your bride arrives within the month.”

---------------

Dedications:

Biggest hugest thanks to @jazzelsaur and @astroboots and one poorly timed apple watch notification that inspired this fever dream insanity of a story. If not for the truly unhinged and chaotic nature of our DM's, this fic would never have been borne. Also shout-out to these two hoes for listening to me prattle on about GoT lore, soulmates, and all manner of "giving characters agency" discussion. I love you both a not normal amount.

Follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications for fic updates.

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell fic #oberyn x ellaria #oberyn martell x fem!oc #pedro pascal characters #radiowallet writes

[yourstrulylightstar283]

Tagged: @radiowallet/@radiowallet-writes/@catepagewrites

Disclaimer:

Sarah Bailey and Poorly Wired Circuit (c) @radiowallet/@radiowallet-writes/@catepagewrites

Lucy Boynton, Saoirse Ronan, Florence Hugh and Anya Taylor-Joy (c) Themselves

#other people's work #poorly wired circuit #pwc #fancast #casting sarah bailey #sarah bailey #radiowallet #radiowallet-writes #catepagewrites #lucy boynton #saoirse ronan #florence pugh #anya taylor-joy

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Special

Pairing: Dave York x virgin f!Reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only) 

Word count: 7k

Warnings: large age gap, virgin!reader, first time sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, PIV sex (with a condom), possessive!Dave, ambiguous/dark ending

Summary: You’re part of the newest class of interns at the DIA. Told to either sink or swim, can you stay afloat long enough to get everyone’s coffee order right, deliver reports to the correct offices, and juggle the attentions of the gorgeous man in office 712, the only person at the DIA so far who’s given you the time of day?

A/N: I wanted to write first time sex with Dave York and this ended up going in a direction I did not expect! Dave is soft, but gets a little unhinged at the end, and the ending is ambiguously dark. I don’t use beta readers; instead I just send my friends increasingly unhinged screenshots with no warning or context to see how they react. Thank you to @leslie-lyman, @pedropascalx, @honestly-shite, and @radiowallet for dealing with my shenanigans, I love you all.

Masterlist

“First of all, let’s get one thing straight right now. You are not special. You think you were hot shit at Harvard? You’re worms here. The way the DIA vets their interns is simple: we throw you into the middle of the ocean. Some of you are gonna drown, that’s the point. The rest of you are gonna survive by crawling your way to the top of the pile and fighting to stay afloat.”

You try to keep your face neutral as the woman–who doesn’t look to be much older than you, but who clearly has a chip on her shoulder after surviving her own cutthroat internship at the DIA–introduces the new group of interns to their first day on the job. 

“You have questions about what to do, where to go? Fuck you! Figure it out. You–” she points at a young man beside you. “What’s your focus?”

“C-Counterintelligence,” he stammers. 

“Second floor, talk to Mike.”

“Who’s–”

“What did I just say?”

The man’s mouth snaps shut and he rushes away in the direction of the elevators. The woman sends several more interns scrambling in scattered directions, looking for their new offices for the next year. Finally, her finger lands on you.”

“You.”

You’re ready. “Cybersecurity,” you announce, keeping the waver out of your voice. 

“Oh.” She looks you up and down with a wrinkled nose. “That means you’re with me. Basement.”

You follow your guide down the stairs to a room at the end of the hallway. You look excitedly around the cramped room, where your fellow interns take up almost every available surface, typing furiously on laptops stacked on books or piles of paper. Everyone in the room is lucky to be here: all the tops of your classes in Ivy League schools, all considered prodigies in your fields, all with overblown expectations of yourselves before your careers even start. 

“Where’s my laptop?” you ask, eager to get started.

Your guide gives you a withering stare. “You can’t just arrive here on your first day and be top dog,” she says. “Everyone you see here has spent months earning their place doing the important work.”

“What am I going to be doing?” you ask warily.

“Coffee.”

“Coffee!?”

“Coffee. And–” she checks her watch, “–you’re late. Go up to conference room E403b and for God’s sake, take a notebook. You’re going to want to write it down.”

It takes you ages to find the conference room. You try first to look for it on your own, wandering the labyrinthian maze of offices and cubicles, trying to make sense of the naming convention on the doors. Finally, you have to ask a floor secretary, who looks at you like everyone seems to look at the interns at the DIA–with aggressive indifference.

The meeting is apparently in full swing when you enter, and you fight down the urge to grimace as conversations cut off in mid-sentence as every head in the room swivels to look at you. You hold up your little notebook and shake it slightly. 

“Coffee orders?”

Everyone speaks at once, of course, and you scribble furiously, trying to get it all down. Carmel latte, cappuccino, macchiato, americano–fuck, wait–which one of those was nonfat? It’s all the more difficult because you don’t know a single person’s name; you try to write down simple descriptions instead. Blondie. Guy with paisley tie. Hawkish nose. Thick glasses lady. Eventually, you look down at your writing. It���s chaos, of course.

“Thanks!” you squeak. “Be right back with your–uh, with the coffees!”

You run across the street to the nearest coffee shop, feeling more like a magazine editor’s PA than an Intelligence intern. All that’s missing is vague instructions to get various fashion designers on the phone. You juggle fourteen coffees on your way back, a delicate balancing act of cardboard trays and sloshing, hot liquid. 

By some miracle, you manage not to spill any on yourself when you reach the fourth floor again.

“Hi! Me again. Um–okay. So, americano… cold brew… iced latte…” you begin handing out the coffees, glancing down at your muddled cheat sheet in vain, trying to remember who had what.

"What's this?" the man with the hawkish nose asks, frowning down at the cup you’d placed in front of him. 

You look down at your hastily scribbled notes. 

"Uh, a… pumpkin spice latte?" 

The man's eyes narrow.

"That's mine," a woman to his left pipes up. “I’ve got your black coffee right here, Dave.”

The table is a flurry of movement as several other people switch drinks, correcting your apparently many mistakes. You want to sink into the floor–this isn’t what you’d signed up for in the slightest, and now this entire conference room thinks you’re a moron. 

“Thank you,” the man–Dave–says. “That will be all.”

You nod at the obvious dismissal, and retreat from the room. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Thankfully, the rest of the day is spent organizing a massive filing cabinet by alphabetical order, and you don’t have to interact with anyone else for the rest of the day after such a major fuckup. You’re just finishing up the V’s when you hear the same woman from before call out your name, and you cringe inwardly. God, what now?

“More coffee?” you ask with a wry twist of your lip.

“Hilarious. Will you take these up to Mr. York? He’s on the seventh floor, wing C, office 712.” 

A stack of reports is thrust in your face, and you have to scramble not to let any of them go cascading to the floor around your feet.

You mutter the directions under your breath as you take the elevator up. York. Seventh Floor. C wing. 712. York. Seven. C. 712. 

You tap timidly on the office door. The occupant looks up, and you have to suppress the urge to turn around and run away. It’s the black coffee guy. The man who’d dismissed you after you handed nearly everyone the wrong cup. 

Dave York.

Dave appears to be on a conference call, but he holds out his hand, beckoning you in. Before he drops his arm again, he makes a ‘just one moment’ gesture as he finishes up the call, so you wait, awkwardly rocking back and forth on your heels as you stand just inside the doorway, listening to the conversation. 

“We were fortunate that a potentially serious nuclear incident did not happen,” someone on the computer says. “Next time, we may not be so lucky.”

“All we can do is monitor the situation,” Dave responds. “I want a report that we can submit to the hill by Wednesday at the latest.”

When the call ends, Dave closes his laptop and looks up at you expectantly. “What do you think?”

You blanch.  “Think? I–”

“The call. Zaporizhzhia. What do you think?” Dave folds his arms and looks up at you with a neutral, open expression. He’s the first person who’s really looked at you all day. The one thing you’ve learned is that interns do have one superpower: invisibility. Most people have looked right through you, as important and significant as an office potted plant. 

To add to your nervousness, the man is gorgeous, and you find yourself staring at his pursed lips and dark eyes for longer than strictly necessary.

“I don’t… I’m just delivering stuff,” you mumble. “I brought these, uh, reports I was supposed to–”

“Our intern program only takes the highest talent from the most prestigious schools,” Dave interrupts. “I don’t believe for a second that you came here to just fuck up some coffee orders and deliver reports.”

Your gaze drops down to the floor, embarrassed.

“What school did you go to?” 

“Brown,” you answer automatically. 

"What was your major?"

"Cybersecurity."

“Honors?”

“Highest.”

You peek up at Dave through your eyelashes. He’s smiling now, as if he finds you amusing. 

“And I’m guessing you didn’t fund your education by working at Starbucks,” he says sardonically. 

“I had a fellowship,” you mumble. 

Your answer makes Dave laugh out loud, but you don’t find the humor in the situation. You can't figure out if he's making fun of you or giving you a very back-handed pep talk. 

"So, Miss Brown," Dave says. "What do you think?"

“The–the reactors at the plant are shut down,” you start slowly, “but there’s a risk that the nuclear fuel could overheat if power supplies to the plant’s cooling systems are cut off. They’ve already been forced to operate on backup generators a number of times. The–uh–the shelling should be tantamount to the use of a weapon of mass destruction.”

Dave listens, nodding intermittently. When you’re finished speaking, he holds out his hands for the stack of reports. When you hand them to him, he drops them on the side of his desk.

“Thank you.”

Another dismissal.

You nod and make your way over to the door.

“Brown?” Dave calls out, making you turn.

“Sir?”

“You’re going to be treated like a doormat for the next twelve months, but you are not one. The most important thing you can do right now is to have some fucking teeth. Got it?”

The words may be harsh, but Dave’s eyes are warm, one corner of his mouth turned slightly upward.

You nod rapidly. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

The smile grows. “Chin up, kid.”

Kid.

You nod, and with a little sigh, you head back down to the crowded cave that serves as a home base and office space for all of the interns in the building. 

– – – – – – –

The next week there are more reports to deliver to office 712. And the next week. And the next. You wonder just how many deliveries the man gets, or if it just happens to be you every time. After the first day, Dave continues to make small talk with you–sometimes asking about work, sometimes discussing current events, or just remarking on the weather.

Dave York is off-limits, but you can’t help the way your heart starts to pound when he looks at you, or worse, when he talks to you. Sometimes you feel like he must be able to hear that telltale waver in your voice that indicates how incredibly flustered he makes you. You feel off-balance whenever he’s around; your words are more breathless, delivered at a higher pitch, and you can’t stop yourself from looking at him with wide eyes and parted lips whenever he says anything. He fascinates you. He’s just aloof enough to be mysterious, but personable enough to give the illusion of approachability. 

Dave asks you things. Your opinions on foreign affairs. Your approach to cybersecurity. Your desired career path in Intelligence. Your… your weekend plans? Captivated by the older man’s attentions, you tell him everything. Sometimes you want to slap yourself for not being able to shut the fuck up whenever you step foot in his office, but Dave listens so intently–or, at least, gives the impression of listening intently–that it’s hard to stop. You tell him your career aspirations, your future dreams, your opinion on blockchain, the fact that you had a disastrous blind date last weekend, everything. 

“Disastrous how?” Dave chuckles. 

You laugh. “Where do I begin? First, he shows up twenty minutes late, then he won’t stop talking about his ex and his investment portfolio…”

Dave makes an exaggerated gasp, making you giggle harder. “He–that’s not all–he insisted on ordering for the both of us, which would have been fine, except he ordered filet mignon for himself and a house salad for me.”

“Where the hell do you find people like this?” Dave asks with a grimace.

You shrug. “Tinder.”

Dave shudders. “Doesn’t sound worth it.”

“There’s really no other way to meet people my age,” you mumble. 

Dave’s head snaps up. “People your age?” he parrots.

“Yeah, I dunno. I mean, I wish I could skip to the part where everyone knows what they’re doing, but that’s just not how it works, right?” God, how you wish you could find someone who could show you everything you’ve been missing, everything you’ve wanted but was never really sure how to ask for–at least, not with the right person. There have been plenty of wrong people, and it never seemed like the right time with any of them. Of course, now, at twenty-three, you’re considered a late bloomer–and that narrows the field of potential first partners even further. No one seems to want to deal with someone as inexperienced as you. 

You shudder to think what that dipshit from last weekend would have said if you would have confessed just how inexperienced you really are…

“If you want someone who knows what they’re doing, it sounds like you’re looking in the wrong place,” Dave murmurs, and is it just your imagination, or has his voice gotten deeper, more husky?

You swallow. “Probably, Sir,” you mutter noncommittally. “I, uh–I have to go. I’m supposed to be taking meeting notes down on three.”

“Stay safe out there,” Dave says quietly. 

You can’t help but turn back as you reach the exit, giving Dave a small, shy smile as you leave. His dark eyes are piercing into yours, and you feel the burn of his gaze long after you’ve left the room. 

– – – – – – – – – 

You start staying in Dave’s office longer and longer after you deliver your reports. You always sit in one of the chairs opposite his desk–the left one, usually–and talk with wide-eyed enthusiasm for a half-hour or more, sometimes. You start talking about everything. Your family. His. You learn that he’s divorced and has two girls. You learn that he plays the piano, and that he almost always reads non-fiction, rather than novels. 

“Any more dates from hell?” Dave asks one afternoon with a wry grin.

You laugh. “The last guy put me off of Tinder for a while.”

“Good.” 

Your eyes snap up to meet Dave’s questioningly. 

“You can do better, you know that, right?” 

You shrug sheepishly. “Not like I haven’t been trying,” you grumble. “They all seem sweet online, and then they turn out to be jackasses.”

“Maybe it’s the online thing that’s the problem,” Dave suggests.

“Old man,” you tease. “That’s how people meet nowadays.”

“Is it,” Dave murmurs. 

“Mmhmm. Well–I’m gonna go, I’m supposed to be handing in some statistical analysis of supply chain cybersecurity risks by the end of the day,”  you say, popping out of your chair and heading for the exit. 

Your hand is on the doorknob when Dave speaks again. 

“I would treat you as you deserve,” he rasps under his breath. 

You freeze on the spot. Did he really just…? Slowly, you turn your head to look back at the desk. Dave’s gaze is downright predatory, with hooded eyes and a little half smile that seems as if it’s challenging you to act.

“S-Sir?”

“Think about it.”

– – – –

You do. 

You do little else but think of Dave’s words for days. I would treat you as you deserve. Think about it. You speculate wildly about what it would look like–whatever Dave thinks you deserve. You have little to go on–so little experience, that you can only call up steamy romances and movie scenes for examples. What would Dave York be like as a lover? Would he be rough? Gentle? Intense? The prospect of this man being your first… well, it’s daunting. Intimidating. 

But if the idea scares you so much, why have you been soaking through every pair of underwear since Dave said those words to you? 

Why does your heart skip a beat every time you deliver coffee to his meetings, his dark eyes burning into you as you pass paper cups around the conference table? 

Why do you touch yourself to the thought of him, late at night, your fingers a poor substitute for Dave's deft hands?

Dave, for all of his intense staring, doesn't bring the subject up again. You would think his silence on the matter is a mark of chivalry–you didn’t accept his advances, and now he’s backing down–but for the way the man looks at you like a treat to be devoured. It isn’t the look of someone who’s been turned down.

It’s the look of someone who’s waiting. 

You know–and Dave seems to know, too–that it’s a matter of time before you approach him again. He’s achingly polite every time you deliver anything to his office, asking about your day and listening intently to the answer, although the subject of your failed Tinder dates doesn’t come up again. If it had, there wouldn’t have been anything new to report–you’ve stopped responding to any messages, unable to entertain the idea of anyone else when the person you want the most is right in front of you.

Dave has ruined you for any other man, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

– – – – – 

In the end, it takes two weeks. It would have only taken one, but you spend the second week gathering up the courage to say something to the man. Your mind is made up, but you drag your feet until Friday, when the tension inside your body is so great that you can finally stand it no longer.

You knock on Dave’s door that afternoon with empty hands. No reports. No coffee.

Dave, when he looks up to see you standing awkwardly in his doorway, seems to know exactly the reason you’re there. His eyes dance with equal parts amusement and desire when he says, “Shut the door.”

You do as he asks and take a few steps forward, not moving all the way inside and sitting down in one of the chairs opposite Dave’s desk as you usually do.

“Don’t lurk in the doorway, pretty girl. Come sit down.”

You give Dave a shaky smile and sink down into ‘your’ chair, nervously smoothing your skirt with your hands as you do. “You–you know why I’m here,” you say timidly.

“I do.” Dave nods, leaning back in his chair. “I need you to say it out loud, though.”

“I–I want–” you trail off. What is it that you want? You can’t think properly, the only thing you want is him, you want this man and all of his dark, intimidating energy and you want his attention and most of all, you want to know what he meant when he said he’d treat you as you deserve.

“What do you want,” Dave prompts when you don’t finish the sentence.

“You,” you whisper. “I just–you. That’s what I want.” 

Dave’s smile is wolfish. “I’m going to need you to be more specific.”

“I want you to show me exactly what you meant,” you say, tilting your chin up and growing bolder. “You told me to think about it, and I have.”

“You’ve thought about it?” Dave repeats, his smile widening.

“I’ve done nothing but think about it,” you admit quietly. 

“Did you touch yourself?”

“Did I–Dave!” you protest, aghast.

“Did you?”

Your heartbeat pulses in your ears, and you’re barely able to hear your own answer over the rush of blood to your face. 

“Yes.”

“Good,” Dave murmurs. “Good. I want you to come over tonight,” he says. “Give me your number. I’ll text you the address.”

You dictate it to him with your heart in your throat while Dave taps the numbers into his phone. A few moments later, your own device buzzes with a text. 

“There,” Dave says. “Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”

– – – – – 

Your head is buzzing with anticipation for the rest of the day, and the feeling grows when you arrive back at your little studio apartment to get ready for tonight. You shower again, taking extra care to shave, and you pull on the sexiest lingerie that you own–a black lace thong and matching bra. You spend too much time dithering over what to wear–should you be casual? Sexy? Flirty? The address Dave had given you is in a neighborhood; it’s clearly his home. Should you still dress as if it’s a date? After some deliberation, you choose your favorite ‘date’ outfit–a maroon dress with off-the-shoulder sleeves and an enticingly short skirt. 

You can’t help but notice the difference in the way the two of you live, when your Uber pulls into Dave’s neighborhood. You live in the cheapest housing you could find–a drab, postage stamp of an apartment with peeling wallpaper and faulty electricity. Dave lives in a pretty white house with a generous yard and a garage. You try not to think about the fact that the man must be fifteen years older than you, or more. What does he want with you?

When you knock on his door and Dave’s eyes widen and darken at your outfit, you know you’ve made the right decision to dress up a little. He ushers you in with a warm hand at the small of your back–the first time he’s ever touched you, and your breath catches at the simple intimacy of the gesture. 

When you enter the house, you’re hit with the pleasant aroma of food, and you shoot Dave a questioning glance.

“Did you… make dinner?”

Dave chuckles. “Did you think I invited you here just to fuck you?”

“...Yes?”

Dave tsks. “I believe I said I’d treat you as you deserve,” he says simply, leading you into the kitchen. He hands you one of two already-poured glasses of white wine, letting his fingers brush yours as you accept it. 

Dinner is chicken alfredo, which is incredible, but your stomach is already full of butterflies, and you don’t eat as much as you usually would. The two of you chat easily, as you always do, although things on your end are a little quiet. It’s not that you’re nervous, it’s that–okay, yes, you are nervous. Not because you don’t want to lose your virginity tonight to Dave York, but because you just don’t know what to expect. Will it hurt? Will he hold you after? Will you cum? Will he care if you do? Would he want to touch you first, would he, would he, would he—? With so many questions swirling around in your head, is it any surprise you can’t get a word in edgewise?

Eventually, Dave clears the plates and stacks them gently in the sink. Not sure whether to follow him or not, you take the awkward middle ground, rising from your seat and taking a few steps forward, standing in the middle of the kitchen feeling silly. 

You needn’t have felt awkward in the slightest; Dave walks toward you with dark, hooded eyes and a predatory smirk. When he reaches you, he runs one finger tip across your bare shoulder. “You dressed up for me,” he remarks. 

Breathlessly, you nod. 

“Sweet thing,” Dave murmurs. His hand moves up to gently cup your cheek as he steps in closer until you can feel his body heat. Your eyes flutter shut reflexively as his lips draw near, his breath ghosting across your face as he descends.

It isn’t your first kiss, by any means, but it’s the first that makes you forget how to breathe. Dave's lips are gentle, but insistent, his mouth moving sensually against yours until your lips part of their own accord and Dave's tongue flicks out to taste you. 

Dave is apparently spurred on by the full-body shudder it causes, and his arms are suddenly around you, crushing you to him, as he delves into your mouth and takes what he wants. You give it all willingly, although your heart is hammering at the prospect of more to come.

Your hands clutch at Dave's shirt uselessly as he deepens the kiss. You're vaguely aware of the little whimpers you're making into his mouth, the gasps and sighs as he subtly changes the tilt of his head or teases your tongue with a playful lick of his own. 

Finally, when you're about to drown in your arousal, Dave breaks away and takes your hands in his, pulling you out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom. 

Dave kisses you again beside the massive bed, and this time, his hand slides up your bare thigh underneath your dress, causing you to shiver again. 

Dave chuckles. "Poor thing, you feel like you're about to fall over," he teases. He guides you down onto the bed, and your heartbeat reaches a crescendo.

Dave is on top of you, a low growl in his throat as he presses his length against your thigh. His hand slips underneath the material of your thong and he groans at the wetness he finds there, but the feeling of his hand on your labia is foreign and unfamiliar and suddenly your body stiffens, your eyes going wide with trepidation.

Dave pauses, his hand still inside your underwear. His eyebrows draw together, his lips pursing with confusion as he pulls back to look at you. 

“Why do you look so scared?” he asks, concerned.

Your mouth opens, but you can’t find the right words. You search Dave’s face, trying to think of something to say, but all you can think about is his finger resting on your parted folds, the first time anyone has ever touched you there, and you feel like you’re about to spontaneously combust.

“Tell me,” Dave insists.

“I… fuck, I’ve never done this before,” you mumble. 

Dave looks as if a bucket of ice water has been poured over his head. “Done what?”

“Any of it. I–I’ve never–”

Dave’s hand slips out of your underwear, his eyebrows knitting together as he takes in what you’re saying. “Nothing?” 

You press your lips together and shake your head. Oh God, this is it–the moment Dave realizes this isn’t what he thought it was, and you’re a girl playing pretend.

“Oh, honey,” Dave breathes. “Why didn’t you say anything before now?”

“I didn’t want to ruin it,” you say quietly. “I know I’m too old to be–you know–and I just wanted to get it over with, and–”

“Shh,” Dave commands. “It wouldn’t have ruined anything. I just would have done some things differently.”

“Like what?” you ask timidly. 

“Moved slower, for one,” Dave answers. “Savored you.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly. 

“And I will,” Dave promises darkly. “Savor you. Enjoy you thoroughly. I need you to tell me one thing, though.”

“Anything,” you agree.

“Do you really want this? Think about it. There’s no going back.”

You nod rapidly up and down. “I want it.”

Dave surges forward and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. “It will always be me,” he growls against your mouth. “I will ruin you for anyone else.”

You barely have the presence of mind to utter one final word.

“Please.”

Just as he’d said, Dave moves slower now. He divests you of your dress and bra, letting his fingers dance across your cleavage, circling closer and closer to your nipples until you’re squirming slightly on the bed, your breath coming out in little pants. When the tip of his finger just lightly touches one, you arch off the bed as if an electric shock had just coursed through you. You’ve never been this keyed up in your life.

Dave chuckles at your response, and you duck your head in embarrassment at first, but he grips your chin and tilts your head back up to meet his dark gaze.

"Don't do that," he chastises. "I want to see every little thing that I do to you."

His mouth engulfs one nipple and you sob out loud into the room. Oh God, it's hot and wet and you can somehow feel the way his tongue is licking at you all the way down into your pussy. 

"That's it," Dave encourages. "Fuck, you’re so responsive.”

You feel like your brain is melting. Dave is a real and heavy and delicious weight on top of you, his hands pulling pleasure from you that you’ve never felt in your life, and he’s barely even touched you yet. He lavishes attention on your nipples until you’re shaking, licking and sucking to find out what you like–and he discovers quickly that you like it when he flicks his tongue back and forth against the little bud by the way it makes your head tip back as you gasp loudly. 

“Take it,” Dave whispers. “That’s a good girl.” 

Eventually, he kisses a path down the sensitive, soft skin of your belly, making you squirm and giggle slightly. Dave chuckles darkly.

“Ticklish?”

You nod breathlessly. Dave nips softly at the little swell of your belly before moving down to the lacy fabric of your underwear and running his nose up and down the material. 

“Oh,” you exclaim. “Y-You don’t have to do that, that’s–”

“I really fucking want to,” Dave says. “I want to taste this sweet pussy and I want to feel it shake around my tongue when it cums for me.” He inhales deeply with half-lidded eyes, making a low noise in his throat at the smell of you. When he finally hooks his fingers underneath your waistband and starts to pull your panties down your legs, you think you might combust. 

"Has anyone ever done this before?" Dave asks.

"No."

Dave's lips curl into a wicked smile. "Beautiful girl," he rasps. "I'm going to fucking ruin you."

The first little kitten lick to your clit nearly makes you cum right then. You clench violently, and Dave chuckles, the low vibrations sending little shockwaves through your cunt. 

"Ohh, I'm going to enjoy this," Dave murmurs before he starts lapping at your pussy again. You're impossibly wet, so worked up that you can already feel the telltale heat crawling its way up your spine. 

You babble at the ceiling– "Dave–Dave, fuck, I can't–oh my God, this is–Dave!" The last cry of his name ends in a squeak as you shatter for him, clenching around his tongue and feeling, rather than hearing, his resulting groan.

When you come back to awareness, Dave is hovering over you, his dark eyes flitting over your face, watching you come down. 

“Taste yourself,” Dave rasps, his lips–shiny with your slick–too close to yours. “How fucking sweet you are.”

You nod, and Dave lowers his mouth to yours, his entire body pressing against you again–and you feel the hot, hard length of him against your thigh. His hand grasps your hip, his fingertips digging into your flesh, and you moan at the feeling, and at the unfamiliar taste of you on Dave’s tongue. 

Despite the orgasm, you still ache between your thighs, an emptiness that cannot be soothed by just Dave’s tongue. 

“Dave, I need–” 

“Shh, I know,” Dave murmurs. “I know.” His hand moves to the button of his pants, undoing it with one hand and shoving his pants down around his thighs before kicking them the rest of the way off. You stare at the way his erection strains against the tight material of his boxer briefs. When you hesitantly reach out and touch it, Dave hisses but doesn’t move, letting you explore at your own pace. It feels… big.

“Dave,” you begin, shaking your head slowly, “it’s not gonna fit. It’ll–”

Dave chuckles low in his throat. “I promise, it will.” “But what if it—hurts?” you squeak, growing timid again.  

Dave lowers himself again until the two of you are flush together. “Look at me,” he directs. “Look at my face. Would I ever hurt you?”

You search his face, but all you can find is blunt honesty. “No,” you whisper. 

“No,” Dave agrees. “No, and by the time I’m done with you, you’re going to be fucking gagging for it, pretty girl.”

He sucks his index finger into his mouth, coating it in his saliva, before slowly sliding it into your soaking cunt. 

“You’re gonna cum again like this,” Dave states frankly, “with my fingers and with my mouth, and I’m gonna make you so fucking wet that it’ll slide right in.”

He thrusts gently with one finger, watching your face, those dark, burning eyes sweeping over your expression and assessing your reaction. When you start chasing his finger, making little mewling sounds when it’s just not enough, Dave crawls back down your body and lathes his tongue over your clit for the second time that night as he adds a second finger. 

Just when you’re about to reach your peak again, Dave pulls back, reducing the friction and causing the feeling to retreat. You shoot him a questioning glance, but he simply smirks back, gradually giving you more until you feel it building back up, and then eases off. He repeats this little ebb and flow of pleasure, this little game of give and take, over and over and over until you’re panting and squirming and desperate to cum. 

“Dave–” you whine when the pleasure recedes again.

“One more time,” Dave promises. “You’re doing so well, sweet thing, being such a good girl for me.”

It’s as if Dave has the ultimate control over your pleasure–knowing how to make it rise and fall at his pleasing, and he does, fucking up against a spot you’ve never reached yourself while his tongue swirls around your clit until everything starts to tighten again, when he stops. 

“Dave!” 

“I said one more, didn’t I?” Dave protests. “Trust me, I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard after working you up like this.”

He presses a gentle, feather-light kiss to the tip of your clit, his eyes dancing with amusement at your desperation. 

“Poor thing,” he goads, and his fingers start to rub insistently against you again. He sucks your clit into his mouth, gently flicking it with his tongue, and the spot inside you–you suddenly realize you feel like you’re about to–

“Dave–DaveDaveDave–shit, hang on, it–I’m gonna–”

He doesn’t withdraw in time, and something bursts inside you and splashes out around Dave’s fingers as you come apart again. You’ve never felt anything like this–it feels so fucking good but fuck, your face heats in embarrassment as you realize just how wet the sheets–and how wet Dave–is.

“Oh–oh no…” you mumble, but Dave is eagerly licking you clean with a deep groan, licking up into your cunt to chase the last droplets of the surprising deluge. 

“Dave, I–” you start to apologize, but Dave is on you again, kissing you passionately before you can utter another syllable. 

“My good fucking girl, so fucking sweet for me,” Dave murmurs against your lips. “Squirting all over me on her first time.”

“Please,” you beg him. “Please, I want more–”

Dave rolls off of you to rifle around in a drawer. He pulls out a condom and a small packet of something else, and you watch as he removes his underwear, heavy cock bobbing free between his legs, before rolling the condom on and opening the packet, drizzling the viscous fluid into his hand before coating his cock. He slides the same hand between your legs, coating you with the thick, slippery liquid. 

“It’ll be easier with lube,” Dave says by way of explanation. You expect him to crawl between your legs with you on your back, but instead he lies down beside you, urging you onto your side and pulling you flush against him so the two of you are spooning, instead.

“Just lay like this,” Dave murmurs into your ear, sending goosebumps to the surface of your skin. He grabs your top thigh and pulls your legs open, so that your top leg is splayed over Dave’s. His lips are still at your ear when you feel the thick tip of his cock sliding back and forth against your pussy, and your breath quickens even as your hips instinctively push back against him. 

“Shh, relax,” Dave soothes, and slowly starts to push in. 

“Oh–” you breathe, feeling him breaking you open for the first time. True to his word, it doesn’t hurt. It’s overwhelming, and somehow incredibly emotional, even though you’ve never really attributed any significance or meaning to your virginity, viewing it more as an inconvenience over the past couple of years. Still, the reality of Dave pressing inside of you feels profound in some way, and you think back to what he’d said earlier. 

“I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

He might be right. At this moment, you aren’t sure if you’ll ever want anyone else. 

Dave pushes in inch by inch, taking it slow, paying attention to every little hitch in your breathing, until the two of you are completely joined. 

“Feel that?” Dave grits out, his voice sounding unusually strained. “Feel me?” 

You nod, breathless. 

“Tell me.”

“It feels–fuck, I feel so full.”

Dave’s hips flex experimentally, and you whimper pitifully. 

“Again,” you exhale. 

Dave obeys, giving you his cock with slow, deep thrusts, one arm banded around you, holding you flush against him and the other still gripping your inner thigh. You can feel every inch of him, heavy and thick inside of you. You never would have imagined that sex with Dave would be this sensual, this intimate. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear, his breaths getting heavier with effort and pleasure. His lips nip at your earlobe, then brush messily up and down the side of your neck. He finds a little spot just behind your ear that makes you shiver every time he passes it, and he sucks a mark into your skin there, making you moan pitifully. 

“That’s my girl,” Dave rasps against your skin. “My precious girl. I wanted this from the beginning, you know? That morning with the coffees, I pictured laying you down on that conference table and eating that pretty cunt until you begged me to stop.”

The dark timbre of his voice, the filthy words, and the drag of his cock along your walls all combine to make you a puddle in Dave’s arms. 

“Little did I know that I’d be the first to taste you,” Dave continues, his thrusts increasing in intensity as he speaks. “The first to make you come undone with my fingers, the first to feel how fucking tight and hot you are.”  

His hand slides up your inner thigh until his fingers strum at your clit. “I’m gonna make you cum around my cock and once I feel it squeezing me, I will never let you go, you understand? I’m going to make you mine, sweet girl. I’ll give you everything; ruin you for everyone else so you’ll never want anyone else. Say you’ll let me give you everything,” Dave commands, his voice deepening to a low growl.

“Y-Yes,” you breathe, stunned at the shift in tone. 

“Yes, what,” Dave leads.

“Yes, you can give me everything.”

“Good girl,” Dave coos. “I’ll treat you how you deserve. You won’t have to worry about anything; you’ll be my special girl. Won’t you?”

Dave’s possessive words are slightly unsettling, but the coil is tightening inside of you thanks to Dave’s deep thrusts and his fingers circling your clit, and you can’t find it in you to disagree as you start to reach the point of no return, the little moment of vertigo before the plunge. 

“Yes,” you gasp.

And you fall. 

– – – – – 

The first thing that comes to your awareness is something warm and damp between your legs. Your eyes blink open sluggishly and you turn your head to see Dave kneeling between your legs, wiping you gently clean with a washcloth. 

His cock is softening, resting inoffensively between his legs, no longer flushed and angry, and you tilt your head to the side thoughtfully as you watch him. 

Dave notices you looking, and he smiles.

"Did I hurt you?"

You smile and shake your head. "No."

"Good." Dave discards the cloth and joins you on the bed, folding you into his chest. 

"Is it always like this?" you ask softly. 

"It is with me," Dave answers frankly.

"Did–did you mean… all of the stuff you said? I mean–at the end?"

"Of course," Dave says. "You are my special girl, aren't you?"

"I–" you swallow. "Yes?”

"I'll give you everything," Dave promises. "You won't be an intern anymore, I'll see to that. I want you as an analyst on my team, working for me directly."

"Won't–won't people object to that?" you ask, aghast. 

"They wouldn't dare," Dave rumbles. "They don't go against me. And they won't go against you, either. You'll be mine, and that means you're off-limits. Wouldn’t you like that?”

You nod slowly in agreement. Would it be so wrong to let this man help you along in your career? Especially a man who’s so very attentive to you, who says that he’ll give you everything, who says sex with him is always this incredible. Wouldn’t it be akin to madness to say no to this?

“Perfect,” Dave says. “You’ll start on Monday. You won’t go down to that basement cave any more, you’ll work in my office. With me.”

“Oh,” you say, hardly able to believe what’s happening. “I–wow, Dave that’s really sudden–”

“Mmm,” Dave hums, nuzzling into your neck. “All the best for my special girl, hmm?”

You laugh disbelievingly. “Okay,” you giggle. “Yeah”

Dave chuckles too, deep in his throat. 

You glance at the old-fashioned alarm clock sitting on Dave’s bedside table. It’s nearly ten. You start to second guess yourself–would you be intruding if you stayed the tnight? Do people usually stay over after the first time, or do they leave? Why didn’t sitcoms prepare you for this moment? 

“Should–should I go home?” you ask, unsure of whether Dave wants you to stay.

“You think I’d kick you out after this?” Dave teases, his fingertips digging into your ribs to make you squeal ticklishly. “Silly girl. You’re staying right here.”

You nod. “Good,” you mumble. “‘Cause I’m feeling a little tired.”

“Go to sleep,” Dave says softly, kissing that little spot behind your ear that makes you shiver. 

Your eyelids are impossibly heavy, and you think you must fall asleep in a matter of minutes.

Just before you do, you think you hear Dave say one more thing. 

“My special girl, you are home.”

It was probably just your imagination.

#dave york #dave york x you #dave york x reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york pit #the equalizer 2 #pedro pascal

[pedropascalsx]

3000 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION POST!

- The fanfiction edition.

Hi friends! I don’t know how it happened but I hit 3000 followers recently and I feel unbelievably lucky! I joined this site just over a year ago and I have met many wonderful people and gained multiple friendships from doing so.

And I wanted to celebrate YOU guys and show some appreciation for the fanfics that have taken up space in my heart.

I will be posting a few different celebration posts, one for fanfics, one for people I follow and one more for the GIFs and fics that i’ve created and that i’m proud of.

The list is below in no particular order! They just happen to be posted in a way that my brain let me remember them. I limited the list to ONE fic per writer as I wanted to showcase as many people as I could; so please check out their entire master lists!

1. Weeknights by @frannyzooey - Frankie Morales x F! Reader.

2. Notes on Tutoring by @honestly-shite - Dave York x F! Reader.

3. Lay It On Me by @lavendertales - Javier Peña x F! DEA Reader.

4. The Crush by @the-ginger-hedge-witch Javier Peña x OFC Isabel!

5. Consent by @fuckyeahdindjarin - Dieter Bravo x F! Reader.

6. Celestial Navigation by @write-and-buried - Dieter Bravo x F! Reader.

7. Run to You by @foli-vora - Marcus Pike x F! Reader.

8. Silent Affection by @kteague - Frankie Morales x F! Reader.

9. Psychomanteum by @whatsnewalycat - Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella!

10. Another Way by @theewokingdead - Din Djarin x F! Reader.

11. Stitches by @djarinsbeskar - Din Djarin x F! Reader.

12. Stranger At My Gate by @leslie-lyman - Pero Tovar x Modern! OFC.

13. Sunshine on a Cloudy Day by @pedrito-friskito - Frankie Morales x F! Reader.

14. Intimidation Tactics by @whataperfectwasteoftime - Marcus Pike x Dave York x F! Reader.

15. Peñas Anatomy by @guess-my-next-obsession - Javier Peña x OFC/Reader Lucky.

16. Cognitive Dissonance by @prolix-yuy - Agent Whiskey x F! Reader Sugar.

17. Fix You by @astoryisaloveaffair - Frankie Morales x F! Nanny Reader.

18. My Best Friends Dad by @whiskeynwriting - Dave York x F! Reader.

19. Sinners by @brandyllyn - Pero Tovar x F! Reader.

20. Façade by @furious-rogue-stuff - Dave York x F! Reader.

21. Lie to Me by @iamskyereads - Javier Peña x F! Reader.

22. Ego & Black Powder by @psychedelic-ink - Pero Tovar x F!Prison Guard.

23. Saturdays with Javier by @wildemaven - Javier Peña x F! Reader.

24. Black Sheeps by @charnelhouse - Dave York x F! Reader.

25. Like a River by @radiowallet - Macus Moreno x F! Reader x Frankie Morales.

I also wanted to share TEN of my all time favourite stories by @absurdthirst because it’s literally impossible to pick just one.

1. Stormy Secrets - Dave York x F! Reader.

2. Starvation - Ezra x F! Reader.

3. Xingjião - Pero Tovar x F! Reader.

4. Married to the Mafia - Dave York x F! Reader.

5. Under His Skin - Dave York x F! Reader.

6. Late for Valentines - Dave York x F! Reader.

7. The Donor - Marcus Pike x F! Reader x Dave York.

8. Protective Big Brother - Frankie Morales x F!Davis Reader.

9. Murphy's Sister - Javier Peña x F!Murphy Reader.

10. Daddy Dieter - Dieter Bravo x F! Reader.

PLEASE NOTE - I AM DOING A FOLLOW RECS LIST NEXT!

If I follow you and you didn't make it onto this list - you will be on the next one! Also I will be doing a mini post for published and soon to be published books!

I'm sorry if anyone is missing, it's always a pain trying to remember everyone but this is a list of the fics that mean a lot to me and that i love so so so much!

#3k celebration posting #3k recommendations #favourite fics list #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #dave york #din djarin #dieter bravo #javier peña #frankie morales #marcus pike #marcus moreno #ezra prospect #pero tovar #agent whiskey #cristina 3k celebration tag

[psychedelic-ink]

Enjoy all the fantastic fics everyone and don't forget to show love to the writers 💜💜💜 ah also, with series, since it takes me longer to read them or a new chapter comes out, I'm going to add them to the masterlist regardless if I added them the previous month. Basically, if I read a chapter they're going on the list, it just seems fair xx

please show your support by commenting and/or reblogging!

categories include: pedro pascal characters (pero tovar, ezra, frankie morales, marcus pike, jack daniels, jack daniels, din djarin, tim rockford, frankie morales, javier p, joel miller)

as always don't forget to check the warnings before reading!

click here for last months fic recommendations

PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS

SERIES

Passenger by @whatsnewalycat (din djarin)

Surrender by @ezrasbirdie (joel miller)

Adjustments by @/softlyspector (joel miller)

The Waffle House Chronicles by @/softlyspector

Strawberry Wine by @pedrito-friskito (joel miller)

Counting Stars by @toomanystoriessolittletime (joel miller)

Short Days, Long Nights by @frannyzooey (joel miller)

Starstruck by @/ezrasbirdie (dieter bravo)

Best Laid Plans by @prolix-yuy (dieter bravo)

Midnight Alley by @prolix-yuy (dieter bravo)

Celestial Navigation by @write-and-buried (dieter bravo)

Sweet Creature by @wildemaven (dieter bravo)

Rockford & Roan by @littlemisspascal (tim rockford)

Weekends with Frankie by @wildemaven (frankie morales)

You Make Loving Fun by @redahlia-writes (frankie morales)

Shots by @julesonrecord (jack daniels)

Palomino by @/fuckyeahdindjarin (jack daniels)

Eyes Open by @radiowallet (marcus moreno)

Down on my knees by @astroboots (frankie morales, santiago garcia | homecoming drabble)

Stranger At My Gate by @leslie-lyman (pero tovar)

ONESHOTS

Catching by @softlyspector (joel miller)

body of water by @lambsigh (joel miller)

all i need to hear by @/lambsigh (joel miller)

moment's silence by @nexusnyx (joel miller)

Lost In The Darkness by @/softlyspector (joel miller)

Pizza Comes Third by @whataperfectwasteoftime (marcus pike)

Of All the Gin Joints... by @/whataperfectwasteoftime (Marcus pike)

The Crucible by @/whataperfectwasteoftime (marcus pike)

Lead Me Into Temptation by @/whataperfectwasteoftime (marcus pike)

A Walk In The Woods by @mourningbirds1 (javier p)

Protective Big Brother by @absurdthirst (frankie morales)

Landlord From Hell  by @/absurdthirst (frankie morales)

Jack Daniels x pirate AU by @fuckyeahdindjarin

Frankie Morales x soulmates AU by @/fuckyeahdindjarin

Frankie Morales x stripper AU by @/fuckyeahdindjarin

Sheer by @prolix-yuy (maxwell lord)

home is where you’re mine by @inklore (din djarin)

#.sil's monthly fic recs #may fic recs #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #din djarin x reader #marcus pike x reader #javier peña x reader

[morallyinept]

A list of all my favourite OBERYN MARTELL Fic Recs, with the writers tagged. Includes fics I am currently reading/want to read.

Please show some love to the writers by re-blogging and commenting on their work. 🖤

⚠️ Please ensure you check the triggers/warnings etc... on the stories themselves as some of them may not be suitable to your own particular tastes.

Lemon Cakes & Lust - @thetriumphantpanda

Stripes Of A Tiger & A Bond Formed Of Love - @palioom

The Viper & The Lamb Series - @supernaturalgirl20

Far From Home - @psychedelic-ink Featuring Ellaria Sand

Kinktober Day 5 - @agentwhiskeysdarlin

Does Your Mother Know? - @simpingcowboy

Sweet Reds & Starlight Mornings - @lowlights Featuring Ellaria Sand

Rescue - @deadhumourist GN!Reader

Oberyn Masterlist - @theshireisburning-so-mordoritis Lots to choose from!

The Viper's Bride Series - @wardenparker Featuring Ellaria Sand

Baths & Sunsets - @mrsbrekkers Featuring Ellaria Sand

Meant To Be Series - @radiowallet OFC

Not From Around Here Series - @mishasminion360 OFC

In Name Only Series - @forever-rogue

Wrap Around Series - @lovelyladyabsinthewrites Featuring Ellaria Sand

Flavour - @lavendertales Featuring Ellaria Sand

Little Prince & Sweet One - @redahlia-writes Featuring Ellaria Sand

Messenger Bird - @thosewickedlovelies Featuring Ellaria Sand

The Red Wolf Series - @heartsofbeskar OFC

Dark Paradise - @bits-and-babs

Sit On The Throne - @prolix-yuy

Kinktober 22 Oct 15th - @absurdthirst

Breath Of Life - @moonlight-prose

A Poisonous Truth Part 1 & Part 2 - @rise-my-angel Featuring Ellaria Sand

Holy & Heathen Series - @msmorningstaarr OFC

Happy Ending - @nothoughtsjustmeds Wife!Reader

Even Stars Will Fall Series - @cyantomatos Featuring Ellaria Sand

The Snake & The Dragon - @multifandomfanfiction

First Dance - @hopeamarsu

Aphelion Series - @something-tofightfor & @the-blind-assassin-12 Modern!Oberyn

Kinktober Praise Kink, Wax Play, Public Sex & Lactation Kink - @palioom

Fall In Love In A Single Touch - @ezrasversion

The Viper Longs For Foliage - @nerdieforpedro Plus Size F!Reader

Reaching For The Sweetest Of Peaches - @psychedelic-ink Modern AU

Enjoy The Show - @sweetenerobert M!Reader

A Baker's Dozen - Oberyn - @avastrasposts

Birthday Kiss - Oberyn Martell - @something-tofightfor

My Way - @lincolndjarin

Little Dove - @palioom

The Old Prince Series - @sirowsky

In The Night Air - @lis-likes-fics

Silent Running - @imperatorkhaleesi

The Sunshine Undertow Series - @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa Featuring Marcus Pike

#pedro pascal characters #fic recs #oberyn martell #oberyn martell game of thrones #game of thrones #the red viper #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x ofc #oberyn martell x ellaria sand #house martell #dornish prince #prince of dorne #pedro pascal character fics