Ive had this idea for a while, it's a bit sad. TBB discovering their (masc reader) partner had a kid but lost them in crossfire during a battle, like Joel from the last of us. But they're less grumpy. I'd like to think they'd light a lantern every year and he'd offer one to the boys for their lost ones. :)
tbb x masc!reader: grieving
warnings: discussions of death, losing a child
A/N: I honestly have no clue about the last of us so I had no real frame for reference here but I hope it's still kinda what you expected :) also i'm sorry for being slow but i promise i'll get to everyone's request!!
comments and reblogs are appreaciated!! would love to hear y'alls opinion :D
Hunter
Hunter is a light sleeper and immediately notices when you crawl out of bed, no matter how quiet you try to be. He watches you as you move through your shared house and gather things he hasn't seen before; a lighter and a folded paper shape all packed into a cloth bundle. But he doesn't intervene, sensing that it must be something important to you yet not urgent as your heart rate stays low.
When he realises you want to leave the house, he stops you gently with an arm around your wrist, asking where you're going.
You hesitate for a second, looking down at his arm and then back at his face. "I light a lantern every year," you explain briefly because you're already running late and Hunter doesn't push.
He never asked about your family before but it's clear as day to him when he sees the way you interact with Omega and how you flinch every time she runs head-on into a battle and he sees a bit of himself in you.
"I'll come with you," he offers and your immediate reaction is 'no'. This was your something personal to you but the more you look at him, the more you realise that maybe you don't want to carry this alone anymore.
The two of you walk hand-in-hand, no words passing between as you lead the way. Once you find the perfect spot, you let go of him and unfold the little bag you packed, your hands going through the familiar motions of checking for tears in the paper as you set everything up.
Hunter sits down on the ground, giving you space as you work.
"My kid," you start, breaking the silence, "They were caught in crossfire. They weren't supposed to even be there but now—" You break off, shaking your head as the memories replay.
"I'm sorry," Hunter says even if he knows it won't change anything. "I don't know what I would do with myself if something happened to Omega. But I'm glad you're in her life. She deserves a father figure."
"Yeah… I don't know what I'm doing either," you confess and it's the most vulnerable Hunter has ever seen you. "And… you're a good father for her, Hunter."
"Thanks… I don't think I could manage without you by my side. Not after everything." Hunter looks down at where you're assembling the lantern.
"How long has it been?" He asks cautiously after you finally light the lantern and it ascends into the dark sky.
"Twelve years now. They would've been nineteen now. Still feels like yesterday." You don't look at him as you say it, your eye follow the light as it grows smaller. I'll love you forever, my little one.
Then finally your eyes drift back to Hunter who's gaze is still turned towards the sky and an idea strikes you as you reach for your bag again and take out another lantern, holding it out for Hunter.
"Why?" He asks but still reaches for it.
"For the one you lost. I know you're thinking about him," you say as you're handing over the lighter too.
"I failed to protect him," Hunter sighs and you place a hand on his shoulder, knowing that grief intimately. "I should've been more insistent on staying on Pabu. We should've never gone to Eriadu. Tech should've—" Hunter broke off as a tear ran down his cheek and you leaned down to kiss his temple.
"You can't blame yourself for that forever. Trust me, it won't make it better. All we can do is cherish the memories we had with them."
Hunter nods and you both watch in silence as the second lantern ascends into the sky, joining yours in the vast sky.
Tech
Tech notices that you're preparing something days before. He sees you checking the weather forecast multiple times and packing a small bundle that you hide under your bed.
He logs it mentally but doesn't ask. It's not something where he needs to intervene right now and if you want to share it with him, you will.
Unfortunately for him, his curiosity is rising and after nothing happens for a few days, he's close to asking you.
When you do get up one night and dress quietly while he's still working on one of his projects, he watches you. You don't ask him to join you and after you leave, he waits a few minutes before following you.
He finds you sitting on a log somewhere remote with a lantern half-unfolded in your lap and once he comes close, you don't look surprised to see him.
"You could've just asked, you know," you say, "Instead of lurking."
"I was conducting an experiment on the behaviour of the animals at night."
"Without your datapad?" You ask and Tech looks down at his hands, realising he left it behind in his haste to follow you.
"Ah."
"Just… sit down, Tech," you point to the log next to you and he sits dutifully, hands folded in his lap as he watches you finish setting up the lantern as if you've done it a hundred times before.
"Every year. Same night, same place," you start and Tech waits for you to continue. "I had a kid. They died. Crossfire during a battle and I— I wasn't fast enough."
Tech's mouth opens. Then closes again. Then opens. "That is—" He stops. "I'm sorry. That must have been terrible."
"It was." You light the lantern and let it go, watching it ascend into the sky. Tech watches it rise with you. Then you reach into your bag and pull out a second one.
"Who's that for?" Tech asks.
"For you… for… whoever you lost."
"Thank you. I have been rather lucky so far. I don't need one but… tell me more about your child. I want to know what they were like."
"Bright," you start and lean your head on his shoulder as you both watch the stars above you. "And kinder than I ever could be."
The two of you sit together for a long time until a shiver runs down your spine and as you walk back together to your house, you realise it wasn't so bad to share this with Tech.
Wrecker
Wrecker is immediately aware that something is off. You're not usually as bright of a person and it's not that you're sad — he's seen you sad — but you're quiet. Like, you're not laughing at his jokes or rolling your eyes when he lifts something that he'll regret later when his joints act up.
He doesn't push though, he knows that sometimes things need to come out on their own and you appreciate his patience.
That night, you planned to go on your own but as you sit and cuddle together on the couch with Wrecker, your eyes fall on a picture frame on the wall. In it were six people; five men and a little girl.
And one of them you've never met; Tech. You've heard a lot about the genius and what he was like but mostly from Omega. The others are always hesitant to talk about him and you can't shake the feeling that they blame themselves for it, especially Wrecker.
It is then that you decided to take Wrecker with you once it was dark outside.
"Where are we going?" He asks as you pull him along.
"I… had a kid," you start.
"What happened to them?" He says even though he has a feeling where this is going.
"I didn't protect them enough. I didn't— I couldn't—" You pause, taking a breath. Even after all these years it's hard for you to talk about. "They got caught in crossfire."
"I'm… sorry. That must be difficult for you."
"You learn to live with it," you reply as you finally arrive in the spot you had in mind. Then, "I light a lantern for them every year. It reminds me of the light they brought into my life."
"That's… beautiful," Wrecker mutters as he watches you set up two lanterns. "What's the other one for?"
"You lost someone too. I thought that maybe…" you go quiet, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious at your assumption that he would want to join in your tradition.
"Oh…Tech." Wrecker looks down at the lantern. "He did love the sky with his stupid maneuvers that always scared me. I think I'd like to light one for him."
You smile slightly, and you offer him the lantern. After lighting them both, you let them go and watch them disappear together in the sky, sitting arm in arm.
Crosshair
Cross has never been one who's good with feelings or confrontation but he is good at noticing when something is off. At first he worries that it was something he did and that you are mad at him but usually you would confront him in those cases.
So he had nothing left but to wait for something to happen.
It happens when he is on one of his late night walks to calm his mind and he finds you in a small clearing, bend over something on the floor. He tries not to intrude but he isn't as sneaky as he once used to be.
"I know you're here, Cross," you say, still assembling the lantern in front of you. "You can stop hiding in the tree line."
He huffs but walks over to you, plopping down on the floor with his arms crossed and a new toothpick between his teeth. "What are you doing?"
"Lighting a lantern."
"I can see that," he grumbles, "Why are you doing that?"
You smile a little at his attitude, it is one of his most endearing traits in your eyes. "I had a kid. This is for them," you explain.
"You're a dad?" Crosshair's tone softens unexpectedly.
"Was, yeah."
"What happened to them?" He asks carefully.
"A battle… They ran out and I was too late too stop them. The crossfire got them." The memories flashed before your eyes and you closed them for a moment. "I light a lantern for them every year now."
"I'm sure they appreciate it," Crosshair remarks as you light the lantern. He reaches out for your hand and laces your fingers together as you watch it rise into the darkness.
Silence settles between you two before Crosshair eyes you suspiciously as you take out another lantern.
"For you. For Tech and Mayday and anyone else you lost." you say but he doesn't take it and you simply place it in front of him. "Suit yourself." You pack up the last of your things and leave him alone in the clearing because you can see the emotions warring in his eyes.
You were proven right once you're almost home and look back towards the forest, seeing another lantern rise from the crowns of the tree and you smile to yourself. Maybe later you two could share more about the people you lost but for now both of you need to stew in the memories by yourself.
Echo
Echo and you both have lost important people in your life but usually you both don't talk about it. You don't want to drown in the sadness.
However, you gave yourself one day to grieve and celebrate the death of your child so all feelings could be let out on one day. It was on that day that Echo found you by accident in a small corner of the island, fiddling with an unlit paper lamp.
"Couldn't sleep?" He asks and you shake your head as he comes closer. "What's this?"
You tell him the whole story of your kid, the battle, how the medics were too late. And you tell him of your tradition. Echo doesn't interrupt, he's experienced enough loss in his life to know not to rush you.
Afterwards, he sits down next to you, offering you a space to lean on him if you need it. You don't. Instead, you hand him a second lantern. "For whoever you lost."
He stares at you for a minute, feelings and memories surfacing that he tried to long to suppress. Then, "Fives," he finally says. The name comes out like broken glass. "And Hevy. And Cutup and Droidbait. And everyone else I lost during the war, especially the ones who died while I wasn't there. The ones who were slaughtered while I was in that kriffing cryo pod."
His voice cracks and you place a hand on his shoulder but you don't say anything because there is nothing to say.
"I miss the person I was before the citadel too," he whispers after a few minutes. "Before the experiments. I miss him even though he's me."
You both light your lanterns together then. Echo's hand shakes and you cover it with yours. You watch them rise together, following them longer than necessary, when they have long disappeared.
Next year, the two of you come back with more lanterns.
Hi!! I ador your writing, Especially your male reader ones! There's not enough clone x male reader fanfics out there. So im requesting a Commander Fox x male reader with no specifications. You can do whatever you want with this. And if you don't feel comfortable or you just don't want to, that's fine too I hope you have an amazing day!
Thank you! I couldn't figure out what I wanted to do with this so- I hope this is okay!
New and Relieving
Pairings: Fox x male senator! Reader
Summary: You were an up and coming senator within the republic, from a planet nobody has even heard of until now. Fox is tasked in protecting you along with the rest of his squad, and though it's a reprieve from the chancellor he can't stand you. You're snarky, kind to others but blunt to those who oppose you. Your kind to Fox and his brothers but he just can't understand why... well, he will soon find out.
Warnings: some fluff, not many warnings.
Word count: 1,559
After a vicious battle on the planet of Cryt,
General’s Anakin Skywalker and Obi-wan Kenobi are tasked with bringing the Senator of Cryt to Coruscant for added protection against separatist assassins trying to take his life.
The Republic Senate places Senator Y/n under the protection of the Coruscant guard until further notice.
Now Senator Y/n must face the harsh realities of true politics in wartime, as well as battling the growing tension between him and his protector, Commander Fox…
Will the Senator persevere?
-
Two days, half a current rotation. One large celebratory dinner, half eaten rations. You kept track of the number of hours you had been on Coruscant, you tried to eat more than just one dinner and some rations, but the near loss of your home planet had been a lot to carry on your shoulders.
So many good soldiers lost their lives to save your little back water trade route, but they assured you it was essential for the Republic to set up a care center and base of operations there.
You didn’t argue back.
You now had to face the threat of hundred’s, maybe even thousand’s of Senators, arguing on whether or not you- or your contribution is worth having within the senate.
You quickly realized that there were two sides in the Senate, the vindictive, cruel, money driven senators who often side with the banking clan, and the kind hearted, caring senators who always try to fight for the right thing.
You picked your side pretty quickly.
Senator Organa, Amidala, and Chuchi all became good friends of yours, helping you with some of that burden you carried on your shoulders, offering help and advice which definitely had lightened your load a bit.
You were currently sitting in your office, one hand in your hair as the other was scribbling on paper, writing signatures on bills for your friends in the Senate. You heard the door to your office open but you didn’t even bat an eye to who entered, just giving them a curt wave as you moved onto the next stack of papers.
You had a small guard squad assigned to you, but you had been so busy these last couple of days so you just didn’t have the time to greet them or ask for their names. “I need an assistant.” You muttered to yourself as you pushed the stack of papers away, leaning back to look at the ceiling.
“Anything I can help with? Senator?” A voice called up, and you jolted in your seat, turning your head in the direction of the voice, seeing one of the guards standing beside your desk. You let out a sigh of relief, offering the armored man a gentle smile. “perhaps… thank you for the offer…” You trailed off, silently asking for the clone's name.
“I’m Commander Thorn.” He introduced, and you smiled a bit brighter, standing as you offered a handshake to him, which he took politely. “Y/n L/n- though- i guess you already knew that.” You chuckled, placing your hands on your hips.
“I apologize if I've seemed unfriendly to you and your brothers, I've just had so much on my plate.” You sighed, glancing at your work before shaking your head.
“It’s no problem at all, Senator. We understand.” Thorn stated, giving you some consolation on your quiet behavior. “Right, well I think it’s time I get to know your squad some more, hm?” You suggested, grabbing your commlink and your jacket, walking out of your office with Thorn right behind you.
There were a few clones guarding your door, and as you walked the hallways beside the commander, they stayed guarding your office. Thorn took you to the main mess hall in the GAR, knowing that it would be where his Marshall Commander and other brothers would be.
He also gave you a small tour around the GAR per your request, and you had some friendly short chats with a couple other clones before entering the mess hall.
It was packed with hundreds of clones, the room went silent when they noticed you, a fancily dressed Senator, but regardless Thorn helped you get some food from the line up. He told you to skip the line but you were adamant on waiting your turn.
Once you had your tray of food Thorn led you over to one of the tables already filled with clones wearing red armor. One of them caught your eye, he had dark short hair, but there was a silver streak running through the left side of his hair. He stared at you before standing in greeting.
“Senator. I didn’t know you’d be joining us.” The man stated, and you offered a light smile. “I decided I needed to get to know the men protecting me. Thorn has been very helpful so far but I'd like to know the rest of you too.” You explained as you sat down at the table, Thorn sitting beside you.
“Right… Well these are Commanders Thire and Stone. Beside Stone is Sergeant Hound.” The clone introduced, and each clone waved or saluted. You waved in response, turning your head to look at the man who was already staring at you.
“So you must be Marshall Commander Fox.” You mused, and the man nodded. “Well it’s wonderful to meet you all, I hope you don’t mind me joining you.” You stated, readying your meal to be eaten.
“Not at all, Senator. You're welcome to join us.” Commander Thire spoke up, and you sent him a thankful look before biting into your sandwich.
Fox narrowed his eyes at you slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you talk with his brothers. Eventually you felt your commlink going off and you started cursing as you fumbled to get up an answer. “Shit! i forgot I had a stupid meeting.” You hissed, grabbing your tray as you smiled at the men.
“Excuse me, I must go. It was very nice meeting you all.” You expressed, throwing out the food from your tray before setting the tray to the side. Fox then stood up, it being his turn to escort you places, following you out in a brisk walk as you hurried from the GAR back to the senate building to get there in time for your meeting.
When you got to the room you turned to Fox, offering him a smile. “Thank you for escorting me, you are free to do as you please.” You started quickly before entering the room.
However Fox didn’t leave. Even as your meeting went on for hours he stood outside until you were the last to leave. He noticed how exhausted you looked, and sighed. “To your quarters?” He asked, however you shook your head.
“No, I am done for the day, I will return back to my apartment.” You stated. Fox nodded and led you to the building where many senator’s resided, already knowing your apartment number even if you didn’t.
Once you got to the door that led to your chambers you turned to Fox, and spoke.
“I’m sorry if I've offended you in the past couple of days. Being a Senator of such a small planet- it's hard work that I'm not used to.” You breathed out, running your hand through your hair as you stared up at him. He noticed something shining in your eyes, and he wouldn’t lie…
You’ve piqued his interest, more than anyone else ever has.
“I was raised on a farm, I led my community since I was a teenager… They voted for me to become Senator when we sided with the republic. If I'm honest I should have said no.” You joked, opening your apartment door before turning to Fox again, biting your bottom lip.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” You asked, and Fox thought for a moment before he nodded. “Yes, I'll be here in the morning. You’ll have guards stationed outside if you need anything however. Keep your Com on.” He instructed, and you nodded, giving him another look before finally shutting the door.
After that, little walk breaks with Fox became a regular thing, along with the fact that he always brought you home, and was always there in the morning to pick you up. You didn’t see him much in the afternoon, so you looked forward to the evening’s with the Commander.
You and Fox grew closer, and to think he despised you at first- or at least was very untrusting. But now he trusted you alot, he learned all about you, personality wise and… otherwise. Though even as the Republic… rebranded… Fox stayed by your side, permanently transferring as your bodyguard, giving orders when he needed too.
But you helped him lose faith in the republic he had worked so hard to keep peaceful. You resigned as Senator, and withdrew your planet’s support from the Empire, despite their resistance. However you had the backing of millions of people on your home planet…
You and Fox started a rebel alliance cell on your planet, and explored the feelings that had bloomed between you. Fox was gay as fuck, that he found out pretty fast after leaving the Empire with you.
A/n: two likes is enough for me! Also I am happy knowing that non of my favorite characters die now 🤣.
The power outage hit without warning.
One moment the halls of the Jedi Temple were bright and steady, polished floors gleaming under soft light, the next, everything dropped into darkness with a sharp, unsettling hum as the systems cut out.
Emergency lights flickered on seconds later, casting the corridor in dim red strips that made everything feel…wrong.
You stopped walking immediately. "I hate this..." you huffed.
On either side of you, Captain Rex and Fives slowed too.
“Just a power fluctuation, ma’am,” Rex said evenly, though his posture shifted, subtly more alert.
“Yeah,” Fives added, glancing down the hall. “Nothing to worry about.”
You narrowed your eyes into the dimness. “That’s exactly what people say right before something is wrong.”
Fives snorted. “Relax, Princess,” he said, reaching to his side before pulling out a spare blaster and—very casually, handing it to you. “Here. Just in case.”
Rex’s head snapped toward him. “Fives—”
“What? It’ll make her feel better.”
You took it instantly. “…I do feel better,” you said, inspecting it with interest.
Rex stared at both of you like he was reconsidering every life choice that had led to this moment as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “That was a mistake,” he muttered.
You ignored him, holding the blaster with far too much confidence for someone who absolutely should not have one.
The three of you continued down the hall, your footsteps echoing softly in the quiet. The Temple felt… different in the dark. Bigger. Emptier.
You were just about to complain again when a shape moved.
Right in front of you.
Tall.
Cloaked.
Silent.
A hand reached out from the darkness, soft muttering and....you screamed and pulled the trigger.
The blast echoed loudly through the corridor.
There was a heavy, sudden thud as the figure dropped.
Complete silence.
Your chest heaved as you stared at the body on the ground, blaster still raised, hands shaking slightly.
“…He startled me!” you snapped defensively, before either of them could say a word.
Fives and Rex rushed forward at the same time, boots hitting the floor hard as they came to a stop over the body.
Fives froze. “…Oh...."
Rex leaned down slowly. “…Oh.”
There, sprawled on the floor in an undignified heap, cloak pooled around him, was none other than Supreme Chancellor Palpatine.
Very much dead.Very much shot....Right in his chest.
You lowered the blaster slightly, still breathing hard. “…He was reaching for me!...muttering like a lunatic!!"
Fives blinked as he looked down at the body then towards you then, very slowly, reached out and took the blaster from your hands. “…Okay,” he said carefully. “I’m just gonna...take this back.”
Rex, meanwhile, nudged the body with his boot and with a hum he nodded. “…He’s dead.”
“Yes, Rex,” Fives said flatly. “We can see that.”
Another pause.
“…We should report this,” Fives added.
Rex looked around the dark hallway, to the body then at the conveniently open maintenance hatch a few feet away then back at Fives. “…Or,” Rex said slowly, “we don’t.”
Fives turned to him. “Rex—”
“What?” Rex shot back, already grabbing the body under the arms. “It’s the best option we have!”
“Rex!”
“Besides—” Rex grunted as he started dragging Palpatine across the floor, boots squeaking faintly with the effort, “....who walks up on a princess in the dark wearing a black cloak?!”
You immediately pointed at him. “Right!”
Fives stared at both of you like he was losing his mind.
Rex reached the hatch, popped it open with his foot, and without another word dropped the Chancellor’s body down the chute.
There was a distant, echoing clatter.
Then nothing.
Rex dusted his hands off like he’d just taken out the trash.
Fives pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose like he had a headache. “Unbelievable.”
You crossed your arms with a huff, chin tilting up as you puffed your cheeks out. “I mean, didn’t Eno Cordova say he was like… evil anyway?” you said matter-of-factly. “I listened to a lot of what he said—he had that whole vision thing about the Jedi Order falling and the Empire rising, and no one listened to him.”
Fives blinked at you. “…You’ve been eavesdropping on Jedi historians?”
“That’s not the point,” you snapped. “The point is—he could’ve been right.”
Rex crossed his arms now, nodding slightly. “He was wearing a cloak.”
“Exactly!” you said, gesturing dramatically. “And didn’t he have that creepy obsession with Anakin?”
Fives made a strangled sound.
“I mean,” you continued, completely serious, “if you really think about it, I basically just saved the galaxy.”
You turned with a little huff, hair flipping over your shoulder. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
Silence.
Long.
Painful silence.
Fives slowly looked at Rex.
Rex looked back.
“…We’re not telling General Skywalker,” Fives said.
“Absolutely not,” Rex agreed immediately.
“…Or General Kenobi.”
Rex shook his head. “Definitely not.”
You glanced back at them, unimpressed. “Oh, please. He’d just lecture me about ‘reckless behavior’ and ‘consequences.’”
Fives let out a slow breath.
“…Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s… exactly what he’d do.”
From somewhere deep in the Temple, alarms suddenly started to blare, distant voices rising, confusion spreading as security systems tried to reboot and locate the missing Chancellor.
All three of you froze.
“…We should go,” Rex said quickly.
“Yes,” Fives agreed. “Immediately.”
You straightened, completely composed again like you hadn’t just accidentally assassinated the Chancellor of the Republic.
“Yes, I think that’s wise,” you said, already walking ahead of them.
They fell into step behind you, both far quieter than before.
“…This is bad,” Fives muttered under his breath.
Rex nodded. “…This is very bad.”
Up ahead, you glanced over your shoulder with a small, satisfied smile.
“Or,” you said sweetly, “it’s the best thing that’s ever happened.”
Fives groaned. “Unbelievable.”
The lie spread faster than the power outage had.
By the time the Temple lights flickered fully back on, the official story had already taken shape—polished, tragic, and just believable enough to stick.
“A cloaked figure,” one guard repeated, scribbling notes.
“In the dark,” Rex confirmed, perfectly steady. “We gave chase.”
“Lost him in the lower corridors,” Fives added, tone just strained enough to sound frustrated instead of deeply concerned for his own future.
You stood off to the side, arms crossed, expression composed in that effortless, royal way that suggested you were merely inconvenienced by the entire situation.
“Yes,” you said, with a small sigh. “Very dramatic. Very suspicious. I was quite startled.”
The guard nodded, scribbling faster. “Of course, Your Highness.”
From across the room, Anakin squinted at all three of you.“…You...lost him?” he repeated slowly.
“Yes,” Rex said.
“In a straight hallway?” Anakin pressed.
“…It was dark,” Fives said.
Anakin looked unconvinced.
Behind him, Obi-Wan stood with his usual composed posture, hands tucked into his sleeves—but his gaze lingered on you a second longer than necessary, as if checking for something unseen.
“…You’re certain you’re unharmed?” he asked quietly.
You waved a hand dismissively. “Perfectly fine.”
Anakin made a face. “You screamed.”
“I was startled.”
“You fired a blaster.”
“Instinct.”
“You never listen when people say not to take weapons.”
You turned toward him, narrowing your eyes. “That sounds like a personal attack.”
Ahsoka, off to the side, was visibly vibrating with interest. "This is the most interesting thing that’s happened all week,” she whispered
Meanwhile, Fives was sweating.
Rex was calm.
You were thriving.
And then a presence entered the room.
Eno Cordova stood near the back, hands folded behind him, head tilted slightly as he observed the scene with unsettling patience.His gaze moved from Rex… to Fives… to you and something in his expression said...He knows.
Fives saw it first. “…Oh no,” he whispered under his breath.
Rex followed his line of sight. “…Oh no.”
You turned and immediately straightened, offering your most composed, diplomatic smile. “Master Cordova.”
He inclined his head politely. “Your Highness.”
Silence stretched between you.
Cordova stepped closer, slow and thoughtful, eyes flicking briefly toward the guard still writing down the report. “A unknown cloaked figure, you say,” he murmured.
“Yes,” you said smoothly.
“In the dark.”
“Very dark.”
“And you gave chase.”
“We did.”
“And yet…...he vanished.”
“Like a shadow,” you added.
Cordova hummed softly. “…Curious.”
Fives swallowed.
Hard.
Because Cordova’s gaze shifted again, this time lingering on your hands… then flicking, almost imperceptibly, toward the direction of the lower maintenance levels.
The chute.
Then back to you.
And he smiled.
Just slightly.
“Oh,” he said quietly. “I see.”
Fives made a choking sound.
Rex stared straight ahead like a man facing his end with dignity.
You blinked once. “…See what?” you asked, tone perfectly innocent.
Cordova’s smile deepened just a fraction.“Nothing,” he said lightly, turning toward the guard. “Only that… in times of uncertainty, the Force often guides events in unexpected ways.”
The guard nodded like that meant something.“Yes, Master.”
Cordova gestured vaguely. “I believe this ‘figure’ may have used the confusion to escape through the lower systems. Waste processing, perhaps. An unfortunate but effective route.”
Fives’ eyes widened.
Rex went very still.
You stared at Cordova.
Cordova did not look at you. “…We’ll note that,” the guard said quickly, writing it down.
Anakin frowned. “That’s oddly specific.”
Cordova gave a small shrug. “A hypothesis.”
Ahsoka tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly.“…Huh.”
Obi-Wan, meanwhile, watched Cordova with quiet interest but said nothing.
Because nothing was technically wrong.Just… suspicious.
Cordova stepped back, hands folding again behind him as he met your gaze one last time and for a brief moment there was something ancient in his eyes.
Something that had seen this coming.Then, softer, just for you “You are… exactly where you are meant to be.”
Your lips parted slightly.
Then he turned away, as if nothing had happened.
Fives exhaled so hard it was almost a wheeze. “…He knows,” he whispered.
Rex nodded once. “…He knows.”
You straightened, smoothing your outfit like you hadn’t just had your entire secret silently acknowledged and protected. “…Well,” you said lightly, “that worked out.”
Fives stared at you. “That worked out?”
“Yes,” you said, already turning to leave. “We’re fine.”
“We are not fine.”
“We’re completely fine.”
Behind you, Anakin was still frowning as he watched you whisper between the two clones.“…I don’t like this.”
Ahsoka grinned. “I do.”
Obi-Wan’s gaze flicked briefly to you as you passed him, lingering for half a second longer than necessary. “…Be more careful,” he murmured quietly.
You didn’t slow, just lifted your hand in a small, dismissive wave. "I always am.”
Fives groaned behind you. “Unbelievable.”
And at the back of the room, Cordova smiled to himself.
Summary: After days spent in bed from pain you ask your husband for some fresh air. (Maekar Targaryen x Sick!Wife!Reader) (1.1k)
Warnings: A lil bit angsty. hurt/comfort. discussion of long term pain and illness. they are sooooo in love with eachother. part of the Well Enough universe.
“I want to go for a walk." Your voice is confident and final leaving no room for Maekar to argue with you. He does however- still do exactly that.
"You need to rest." He perches on the edge of the bed next to where you lay with a large hand resting on your own.
"All I have done for three days is rest. Im forgetting what the world looks like outside of this room. Im going mad." You say moving to sit up. He assists you, supporting your back in hopes of alleviating some of your pain. You can see him thinking about it, the crease between his eyebrows is more pronounced and his thumb rubs over the back of your hand softly, so you continue. "Just a short walk, so I can feel the fresh air on my face."
When he sighs you know youve won. Despite the pain he knows youre in, he can understand your desire to get outside and how being trapped in your chambers isnt helping you. With a squeeze of your hand he stands to grab your robe and lay it at the end of the bed. He walks over to you to pull back the covers, take your hands and help manoeuvre you off of the mattress and to your favourite chair by the hearth.
"Wait here."
"Im glad you said that, I was planning on running off." He rolls his eyes but turns just before you can see the amused smile that graces his face. He collects your most comfortable shoes and kneels infront of you taking your foot into his hands and slipping them on. Most people would probably be suprised at the sight of the Anvil kneeling at the foot of his wife and putting on her shoes with a practiced delicacy that should be impossible for a man with such a name. But he insists on doing so, refusing to let an 'incompetent heavy handed servant' care for his wife. After fastening your shoes he stands with a pained groan of his own, slipping your robe over your arms and tying it tightly so youre fully covered.
"Is that okay?" He asks, looping his arm with yours so he can support your weakened framed.
"Mhm, thank you." You grimace as your body adjusts to the movement for the first time in days. Maekar sees this and pauses, clearly second guessing if this was a good idea after all. "Im fine," You cut in before he can speak. "Just- give me a moment."
You begin making slow steps towards the wooden door feeling the pain shooting through your limbs at every move- but gods was it nice to be moving. You walk down the long halls of Summerhall, smiling at staff that pass, leaning on Maekar to try and reduce the pain. You make it to a balcony that looks over the gardens and lean against the cold stone ledge. The cool breeze hits your face and you close your eyes at the feeling. A refreshing breath fills your lungs and makes you feel brighter already.
Maekar stands next to you, grip secure, as he looks over you. How your hair blows slighty in the wind, the bags that sit under your eyes, the small smile that graces your lips- hed marry you again in a heartbeat if he could. You were both so different now. Life had taken its toll- as had six kids -but he knew youd both make it through as long as you had eachother.
"What are you thinking about?" You inquire, opening your eyes to look at him.
"Hm?"
"Thats the face you pull when youre thinking. Tell me, I dont bite."
An amused huff of breath leaves his nose as he turns to look over the vast landscape in front of you both. "Nothing for you to trouble yourself over." He cant fight the smile that forms as his mind flicks through the memories youd made together.
You narrow your eyes at him playfully. "One day I will get into that head of yours."
"Youre already there." He doesnt look at you. Vulnerability still does not come easy to him after all these years. You keep your gaze on him though, eyes threatening to water from the love thrumming through your body, smiling like a dumb, lovestruck teenager.
You stay there for a while. Leaning against his broad frame as you look over the variety of colours that make up the gardens and the birds that inhabit them. You wished you could go down there but you knew your body well enough to know what it could handle and it was already nearing breaking point just stood on the balcony.
He noticed. He always does.
He doesnt suggest returning to your chambers, rather waiting for you to tell him when you were ready. You can take care of yourself, something he learnt early on in your sickness, and hated people making decisions for you as though you were a child. So Maekar would stand here till his feet ached waiting for your word.
You turned in his arms. "How does a bath sound?"
He just smiles. "Ill have the staff prepare one." And presses and tender kiss to your hairline.
The walk back to the room is harder than youd like to admit. Each step ached and shot bolts of pain through your hips and your head felt like it was spinning. Once back in your room, Maekar sat you down in your chair and checked the temperature of the bath that had been drawn before helping you disrobe.
You laughed lowly, just to yourself, a laugh lined with insecurity. "Whats the matter?" He asks prompted by your sudden titter but continuing to unlace your clothes.
"This is not how I imagined our life would be. Having my husband undress me as though im a fucking child." You sniffed quietly and looked away from him. You were tired- your body was tired -and thats when the thoughts you buried deep fought to emerge.
"Just because you did not imagine it doesnt mean its worthless." He pulls your shift over your head. "I made vows to you. To care for you and to love you, not one or the other." He begins removing his own clothes, helping you into the tub before settling behind you. The hot water soothed your pain, as did Maekars hands rubbing over your skin and holding you impossibly close. Your hand finds his under the steaming water, fingers lacing together as if they were always meant to be, and lay your head back against his chest.
"Thank you." The words are quiet, barely a whisper, but carry an unimaginable weight. His response is equally heavy.
I know you've done something similar with Wolffe already but could you do that trope where people catch him with hickeys🙏🙏 And like he doesn't realise how obvious one is and his men are just gawking at him in the middle of a briefing untill he gets fed up and asks them why they're staring at him and they tell him about it.
I love love love you're writing soooooooo much. The banter? *chefs kiss* The drama? BOMB. The writer? Amazing :)
“Wolfpack Gossip”
Commander Wolffe x Reader
The debriefing room was unusually rowdy.
Not loud—Wolffe would have shut that down with one glare—but… twitchy. Restless. Shifty eyes and barely-concealed smirks. It was enough to make any seasoned commander suspicious, and Wolffe, who had survived more battlefield chaos than most, immediately zeroed in on the odd tension infecting his unit.
“Something funny, Boost?” he growled, side-eyeing the trooper who had been attempting—and failing—to suppress a laugh for the last three minutes.
Boost immediately stiffened in his seat. “No, sir.”
Wolffe narrowed his eye at him, then slowly swept his gaze around the room. Every clone was seated, helmets off, datapads ready. And yet none of them could meet his eye. Sinker had his head bowed, but his shoulders were shaking. Comet was chewing the inside of his cheek like his life depended on it. Warthog was avoiding looking at anything above the table entirely.
“Alright,” Wolffe said, letting the silence stretch for just a second too long. “What’s the problem?”
Silence. Comet made a strange squeaking sound and coughed to cover it.
“I said—what’s the problem?”
This time, all eyes turned to Sinker, the unofficial sacrificial lamb of the squad. He cleared his throat, clearly chosen—or bullied—into speaking.
“It’s just, uh… Sir,” Sinker began, his tone very careful, “are you aware there’s something on your neck?”
Wolffe’s eye narrowed to a blade-thin slit. “Like what?”
Sinker hesitated. Boost snorted into his fist.
“Spit it out, trooper.”
Comet gave in, finally laughing. “It’s a hickey, sir!”
The room exploded into chaos.
A chorus of gasps, stifled laughter, and dramatized “ooooohs” echoed against the durasteel walls. Warthog clutched his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. Boost leaned back with a wheeze and said, “Who knew the commander was such a romantic?”
Wolffe just stood there. Blinking. Processing.
And then he reached up—absently, instinctively—and brushed his fingers along the right side of his neck.
Right where you’d left your mark.
A very enthusiastic mark. Last night. After that mission. After hours of tension, sniping, arguing, and finally being shoved into a dimly-lit supply closet with you during base lockdown, where things got… heated. The kind of heated that left bruises and regrets—not for the act, but for how it was definitely going to be discovered.
He hadn’t even thought to check.
“Are you—” Warthog was grinning, “—seeing someone, Commander?”
“Since when?” Comet added. “Do we know her? Do we like her?”
“I definitely like her,” Boost said solemnly. “Anyone who manages to sneak up on Wolffe and leave a mark like that deserves respect.”
“Who says she snuck up on me?” Wolffe muttered under his breath.
It only made the room go louder.
“Oh no, he’s proud!”
“He likes it!”
Wolffe pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly resisting the urge to either murder everyone in the room or walk out and face-plant into traffic.
“Sir,” Sinker said, still grinning, “permission to requisition more rations. We’ll need extra caf and snacks if we’re gonna be sitting through a romantic subplot on top of all the war stuff.”
“You’ll be sitting through a disciplinary report if you don’t shut it, trooper.”
“Yes, sir.”
Wolffe sighed, rubbed at the back of his neck again, and finally just grunted. “Get it out of your systems now.”
“What, the teasing?”
“No. The death wishes. Because if anyone brings this up again in an actual field op or in front of a general, I swear on every one of your shiny skulls I will make you do hand-to-hand drills until you vomit.”
A pause.
Then Boost, ever brave, raised a hand.
“…What if she gives you another one, and we just notice it again?”
Wolffe leaned forward just enough to make the lights glint menacingly off his cybernetic eye.
“I will make you scrub every inch of this base’s refresher block with a toothbrush.”
Comet choked on his laughter. “Totally worth it.”
The room was once again filled with snickering, and somewhere in the back, Warthog whispered, “Commander’s got a girlfriend,” like a schoolboy daring the teacher to call on him.
Wolffe didn’t respond. He just activated the holoprojector for the actual briefing and started talking over them.
But you better believe he was glaring holes through the floor the entire time.
And later, when he walked back into your quarters, he cornered you with a dark look and a husky whisper: “Next time, warn me when you leave battle scars where my entire unit can see them.”
outline ; “May I ask for (platonic) headcanons for Levi Ackerman with male reader who is disabled? Specifically, with a bad leg and bad coordination, chronic pain and asthma. Reader is a civilian and he and Levi met in town? Maybe they both bought the same premium tea and began chatting. Something comforting, please. What kind of friend Levi would be like? Thank you.”
warning(s) ; canon-typical references to violence, brief references to ableism, but other than that it’s really fluffy
it’s rare that levi finds someone that shares his appreciation for tea — or, at least, someone who isn’t a rich snob — so stumbling across you at a random market was a welcome surprise
even if that surprise nearly had him knocking you flat on your backside when you both reached for the same bag of tea and you startled the living daylights out of him
but regardless, apologies were made, names were exchanged and pleasant small talk (about tea) was had and all was well as he returned to base
and then he bumps into you again when he’s fetching some odd supplies from that same market and he just about manages to stop you from falling over when you go to pick up a different brand of tea
he’s concerned, though he doesn’t show it, and you apologise and make a joke about coordination and point to your bad leg — which he raises an eyebrow at and nods in acknowledgement
and the the subject goes back to tea and you start talking about how it’s quite rare to see this sort around locally — and he realises he’s never tried it
to which you offer to share some and he insists on going halves on the payment
which was the beginning of a peculiar friendship
you’d meet up every week to catch up over a cup of tea (well, many cups of tea) either at your home or at a cafe where you could try new blends of tea
you’re the only person he voices his frustrations to and you get all of the scout gossip — he’ll also tell you about the world beyond the walls if you ask
you keep him in the loop with regards to your life and other general civilian stuff — which includes random tangents about health and such
levi becomes incredibly protective of you because he can’t bear to lose anyone else — and especially with your disabilities he frets about your health turning or you being harmed by other civilians
he’s already witnessed how inconsiderate and cruel people can be to you (having to step in multiple times to intimidate them into backing down and leaving you be)
and he’s aware of how testy and difficult it is to get access to proper healthcare, which is a particular concern of his because of your asthma
now he never voices these concerns but you do notice that people start leaving you be and you’re able to get appointments to discuss your health with doctors — which, due to the timing, you can pretty easily chalk up to your new friend getting involved
he also ensures that you have proper mobility aids by asking around retired/discharged scouts and officers and figuring out who he should call after to get a hold of something like that
when you have flare-ups, levi will happily come and perform errands for you (unless he’s out on a scouting mission) — whether that’s fetching medication or food or drink, finishing your chores, tending to any pets you have or just keeping you company
on a related note your house will end up spotless after he visits because he’s so particular about cleaning that he’ll usually end up doing it for you
his reflexes are extremely good so he’s usually able to help compensate for your bad coordination and will catch whatever it is you’ve accidentally knocked over — or you, if that happens to be the case
you’re the only person still alive to have seen him at his most vulnerable — when he cried and trembled whilst talking about those he’d lost to titans and to circumstance
about his mother and his friends from the underground, about his squad and petra and mike and everyone else
about all of the gore and viscera he’d seen, all of the good men and women he’d lost — kids, he called them
but the next day he acts like nothing happened and you follow suit, never bringing it up again
he jokingly calls you brat — but the slight twitch of his mouth gives away his light intent
erwin is the only one who knows where he goes every week, but as long as levi completes his assignments and paperwork he has no reason to complain
even if, on occasion, some of that paperwork has been completed at your home with a steaming cup of tea and a conversation about some neighbour of yours going on in the background
Major spoilers for The Mandalorian Season 3 ahead!
Masterlist
Series summary: Din adopts not only Grogu but Ragnar too after the events on Mandalore. This is The Way. The three of them are living their little life in the cabin on Nevarro when you arrive, claiming the right to raise Ragnar because you are Paz’s younger sibling, who has been away for years, reuniting the other Mandalorians scattered around the galaxy. But there's something else: while you were apart from the tribe, you transitioned to be a man. Would Din recognize you? Could you get to an agreement and raise the boy together? Wrong! There's a problem: Din kriffing hates your guts.
Warnings: Reader is a trans man, goes by he/him pronouns, and had top surgery; angst, humor, and fluff; slow burn; pinch of enemies to lovers; eventual smut +18; grief and mourning; happy ending.
Series word count: 16k+
Chapter word count: 2087
Read it on Ao3
Author's note: Hello Din Djarin cult, I hope you're doing well. I'm still busy trying to stabilize my financial status, so I haven't been active. But I've been writing this for myself, and today I decided it was time to share it. There are very few Din Djarin x Male Reader fics out there, and even fewer for the transmasc folks. So in a moment of need, I had to write this to stay afloat. Currently, I have 8 finished chapters and drafted 18, so strap on for the trip!
Chapter I: The other Vizsla
“He had a warrior’s death.” You were sitting in the temporary forge, trying not to sob under the helmet. Paz was your big brother, and now, he was gone. The Armorer put a gloved hand in your teal pauldron. “You have done a great job reuniting the clans out there, you may rest for a while.” You nodded and got up from the crate you were sitting on.
“Wait, what about Ragnar, how’s…” You had been far away for years, but in one of your rare holocalls, Paz had spoken to you about the little boy with pride. And now he was all alone without his buir.
“Din Djarin has taken the youngling under his wing,” she declared, grabbing her tongs to start her work again. “You should talk to him, he’s trying to be strong, but he’s just a kid.”
Your jaw dropped under the helmet. Din kriffing Djarin had adopted your niece? Last time you checked, the guy was a laserbrain and a reckless, ruthless bounty hunter. And you were…a very differen person too. You felt how your blood started to boil inside you.
“I’ll do it, thank you, Armorer.” Tightening your fist, you stormed out of the forge, looking for the offending Mandalorian who had adopted Ragnar without checking with you.
After wandering for a while between the camp, you didn’t find a trace of him, so you decided to ask around. Reuniting the clans meant that a lot of Mandalorians from different backgrounds and customs were together under the same roof, so you could always find warriors wrestling here and there. It was chaos, but you liked it. The clans you had brought with you were starting to mix with the other ones and getting into fights: it was the first step towards blending. After asking some of the Mandalorians, a blonde Mandalorian woman, who didn’t cover her face as your clan, revealed to you the location of Djarin. She also warned you about the reserved nature of the man, who didn’t like to be bothered, especially at his own home, but if you wanted something, it was to annoy Din Djarin.
You borrowed a speeder bike and went to look for the little cabin the woman had described. The lava flats were barren but beautiful, and with the protection of your helmet, the dust didn’t get into your lungs, so you enjoyed the ride. It was recognisable even in the distance, the cabin stood on the horizon on the outskirts of Nevarro City. It was kind of cute, and a place you would never have imagined for Din. In the past, he didn’t look like the settling-up type. Maybe he had gotten old?
The first thing you noticed was the two little figures next to a pond. One of them was wearing a teal helmet like yours, shiny and new. You were aware that Ragnar had just sworn the creed when Paz died. It had to be pretty traumatic for the poor kid. Parking the speeder bike at a prudent distance, you approached the cabin, observing that Din was nowhere to be seen. But you forgot about him soon, because something else caught your eye. Ragnar was playing with another creature. You were aware of the foundling Din had adopted, but didn’t know a lot about them. The kid next to Ragnar was green and sported huge ears. Apparently, your niece was telling them something hilarious because their little teeth showed in a giggle. Weird, but kinda cute. You were ready to speak to the children when you felt our breath abandon you.
“Don’t dare to make another step.” A rough baritone voice, a strong forearm pressing your windpipe, and a blaster digging into your lower back. Did he not recognize you? Well, even if he did, he had his motives to aim a blaster at you.
“It’s good to see you too, Din Djarin,” you said just before kicking him on the shin and turning in your heels to disarm the bounty hunter. The surprise factor being on your side, it was easy to have him in his hands in a matter of seconds. After all, your voice was raspier, lower, and you could tell he was startled.
“Vizsla,” he hissed like a reptile, feeling the venom of his stare through the visor. You stood nonchalantly, towering over him while you twirled his blaster in your hand.
“I may keep this.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked drily, getting on his feet, but without addressing the bantha in the room. You took a second to assess the novelties in his appearance. The shiny armour, the signet. The nerf herder looked even broader.
“Looking smart, Djarin. Things have been working out for you?” He grabbed his blaster from your gloved hand and put it back in the holster.
“Why are you here?” He repeated, ignoring your question. Okay, straight to the point then.
“I came to speak to Ragnar.” You crossed your arms against your chest plate, trying to look intimidating.
“You’re a stranger to him.”
“But he is my niece.”
“That doesn’t give you any right over him,” he deadpanned. The man was as annoying as always.
“Look, I know you were pissed about me leaving, but I just want to talk to him. He may not know who I am, but we both have lost the same person.” Your voice became a little strangled, and you could tell Did had noticed with how he tilted his head.
“About that…I’m-”
“Save it up, Djarin,” you respond, suddenly defensive before the prospect of being vulnerable in front of him. He changed his weight to the other leg, and you looked away, both uncomfortable. After all, it was the first time you had seen each other after you left the covert, except for that time that’s better left forgotten…Well, things weren’t going to be easy.
“I’ll speak to him,” he surrendered after a deep sigh. “Wait inside.”
You obeyed and walked towards the cabin while he went to the kids. Not wanting to admit it, but you felt nervous. You weren’t a stranger to taking care of kids. While reuniting the clans, you had to deal with a lot of foundlings and younglings running around your ship. Taking a liking to them, little mischievous creatures.
The interior of the cabin was as barren as the lava flats, and you didn’t expect anything different from Din. However, toys were scattered here and there, and a nice fluffy carpet lay on the floor, giving the place the warmth his owner lacked. How had the covert confided in Din with two kids? You didn’t have a lot more time to think insulting stuff about him, because the hunter appeared at the door with his hand behind Ragnar’s back and the little green thing in the crook of his arm. This close, you noticed that the critter looked like a baby. You waved awkwardly, but Ragnar didn’t reciprocate. To your surprise, the green bean did, and you chuckled to yourself. What a curious kid.
“We’ll give you privacy, let’s go, Grogu,” Din said, and then he left the cabin with the little one, leaving Ragnar alone. So the kid’s name was Grogu.
“Hi, uhm… You don’t know me but…I’m your buir’s brother.” You gave him your name and then sat to look less menacing. “I’m so glad to meet you. Paz spoke a lot about you. He was so proud.” The kid lowered his helmet, and you felt so bad for him. “I just came here to tell you…you’re not alone.”
“I’m not alone. I have Din and Grogu.” Ragnar finally spoke, and it was like you were struck by lightning. You knew he didn’t mean bad, but you were feeling sensitive. And you may or may not have had some expectations about how this was going to be.
“Yeah, of course! I just wanted to tell you that you have more family, and I’ll be sticking around in case you need me.” Ragnar nodded politely, and you approached him with care, then you knelt to be closer to his height. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Ragnar. I loved Paz a great deal and I can tell you did too.” He nodded again, and you could tell he was trying not to cry. You put your hand on his shoulder, and he flinched for a moment before starting to sob. Your heart broke into a thousand pieces, and you wanted to hug him, but you just rubbed your thumb, caressing him.
“Your armour…is just like his,” he managed to say between hiccups.
“Yeah, because we’re Clan Vizsla and one day you’ll have one identical,” you explained softly, on the verge of tears too. The kid nodded, and after a while, he calmed himself. “Let’s go find Din and Grogu, okay?
You found them not far from the pond. Din was crouching next to Grogu, and it looked like he was teaching his oldest son to balance rocks to make a little tower.
“You have to choose the flat ones, you see?” The man demonstrated it by grabbing a flat volcanic rock and putting it on top of the construction. “Now it’s your turn.”
“Ah!” Grogu turned around and with his little claw he chose an interesting-shaped rock. Din sighed, and you had to restrain yourself to avoid laughing. The scene was both cute and hilarious. Your brain still couldn’t reconcile that the murderous man you met the last time was the same one you had in front of you. Din then noticed you and straightened from his crouching position.
“I’ll help you,” Ragnar said, and he left your side before locking his visor with you one more time. “Look, if you put this rock here, everything on top will fall…” The teal-helmeted kid explained, demonstrating how physical laws work to the small one.
“Ooooooh!” Grogu cooed, eyes huge with realization. He then picked a more suitable stone, and Ragnar nodded in acknowledgment.
“It looks like they get on well,” you commenced, hands on your hips, while he approached you on the porch.
“Well, you should see them at dinner time…” His voice was that of a tired dad, but there was a spark of affection and pride there that you didn’t miss. Din Djarin loved his kids.
“Haven’t you looked for…help?”
Din tilted his head but said nothing. It was normal that you wanted to know about your niece, wasn’t it? “They train every day with the other kids…Greef Karga keeps an eye on Grogu if I’m off-planet, he knows how to manage him…and Ragnar stays with the covert.”
You changed your weight and crossed your arms over your chest plate. “I meant help from a riduur, Din.”
His back straightened, and he locked his visor with yours, looking threatening. Now, this was more like the man you used to know.
“That’s not your business, Vizsla,” he practically hissed, obviously trying not to be heard by the boys.
“It is if you’re out of your depth in this,” you hissed back, adopting a defensive stance. By no means did you have the violent relationship Paz and Din shared, but you were as hot-blooded as your brother and knew Djarin was up for a fight too. He despised you, after all.
“After all, that’s what you want, taking him with you?”
“He should be with his clan.”
“He should be whenever he’s most comfortable! He’s suffered a great loss!” Your voices were becoming louder, and your fists were tight under the gloves. Your body was screaming: fight him.
“We are Mandalorians, haven’t we all suffered great losses?” Din actually growled at this. He looked as on edge as you.
“Ragnar is not going with an inconstant, unstable, hothead uncle who can’t even take care of himself!” Okay, so maybe he was a bit remorseful about last time. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you hurt by his venomous words.
“That’s not up to you to decide.” And with that, you turned around and returned to the camp, trying to walk as your insides weren’t churning.
Inconstant, unstable, hothead uncle?
Who can’t even take care of himself?
You stopped in your tracks for a second without turning. Din had used masculine pronouns with you. You tightened your fists.
Did someone tell him? Did he assume it? Or maybe he did know all along?
Confusion mixed up with anger, your armor weighing more than ever, one question drilling your skull.
Thank you so much for posting the list of who you do write for! I apologize if it was posted elsewhere and I didn't see.
I'll go ahead switch the request from Commander Fox to FTM Trans reader x Din Djarin/The Mandalorian smut.
Have an amazing day, and also have some flowers. 🌺💐🌹🌻🌷
It's no problem at all! All characters I write for are in my masterlist which is pinned at the top of my blog :] thanks for the request!
Di'kut (MDNI 18+)
Pairings: Din Djarin x FtM trans! Reader
Summary: while on a mission, tension grows and you trip in a bed of sex pollen. Din, unaware that you were not a man before, helps you out, and is in for a pleasant surprise.
Warnings: smut, unprotected (p in v) no bottom surgery, din is sweet at first, rough sex, manhandling, cunnalingus, sex pollen, oral, sweet aftercare
Word count: 3,184
You met Din Djarin through some ‘connections’ the both of you shared, aka Fennec Shan, who was a good friend of your mothers for the most part and started teaching you how to get into the art of bounty hunting. She was good at what she did so with her training you started getting good too. So one day you were getting desperate for credits, and this was after your mother had died so you had a bit more freedom on what you wanted to do with your body.
When your mother was alive you stole credits from her and saved up to afford a surgery you then snuck off planet to get, and it was a success and now you had a deeper voice and no boobs. YAY! You liked boobs… just not on you.
But since your mother was dead and you had no way to steal any of her credits (which is what killed her when she found out) you reached out to Fennec, and asked for a job that paid well. So that led you to now, and you had been happily working alongside The Mandalorian, Din Djarin for a few months on quite an array of jobs.
He had a weird little green child which you had to swear to also protect, but you didn’t mind, the green thing seemed to like you as much as you seemed to like it. Plus you gave it treats when Din wasn’t looking.
Every job you worked you split the credits earned, and instead of spending yours, minus when you bought your own rations or ship fuel, you had saved it all in a little safe compartment you had built into your ship.
When you met Din, his new ship was way too tiny to fit two people, plus he had the green thing in the back, who’s name you learned was grogu, so you started calling him that now. But regardless his ship wasn’t big enough so you stole your mom’s old instead.
But regardless his ship wasn't big enough for two people plus Grogu so you took an equivalent of a cab to your home planet and you found your mom's old ship, which was a small attack shuttle. You fixed it up easy enough and managed to get it up in the air and back to Tatooine to get some better repairs from Motto.
And soon you and Din were up in the air and headed to your next location that Din had the bounty for, courtesy of Fennec Shand. “So where are we headed exactly?” You questioned through the comms you and Din had established. “It's a forested planet, Fennec said the bounty there had built a hut in the middle of the dense swamp area but there are no places to land close enough, so there's gonna be a bit of a walk.” Din explained
You huffed, forestry planets were not really your thing despite having grown up on Felucia. It was always so hot and humid on those planets, so you tried to avoid them to the best of your ability…But this was the last mission you needed in order to get your final surgery. “Pulling out of Hyperspace'' Din announced, and you readied your ship, pulling out of hyperspace when Din did, following him down to the landing zone that he had found.
The area around was heavily forested with a swampy ground, which was gross and you could already smell it which made this experience a whole lot worse. You armed yourself and made sure all your weapons were loaded before you met up with Din and Grogu outside, who was safe in his floating bed. “Little bastard.” You muttered, and Grogu just cooed at you. “Ready?” Din asked, and you nodded, walking beside him as he led you through the forest with the tracking fob.
-
You couldn’t really remember how long you and Din were exactly walking for, but when the marshlands started getting deeper and you started wading through thick swamp water you knew that you were getting close.
The bounty target was not smart, that you knew for sure. He had obvious traps that you and Din easily disarmed, and when you got to the bounty he screamed and froze so you tied him up and handed him off to Din, who had the bounty tossed over his shoulder like he weighed nothing.
The action made you blush a bit, but you and Din continued walking all the way back to your ship, taking a shortcut this time now that you understood the terrain a bit better… But as you and Din walked, you noticed some pretty exotic looking flowers and plants starting to surround you, pollen floating around in the air. “Hey din, you go on ahead and put the bounty in my ship lockup… I wanna examine these plants.” You told him.
Din tilted his head to the side, hesitating before nodding and walking off with the bounty, bringing him back to your ship to put him in lockup like you said.
In the meantime you had started taking pictures of the plants with your datapad, analyzing them for your planetary databank. You walked away from a group of red and white flowers, not watching where you were stepping as your foot was caught on a root that was in the swamp water, and you let out a surprised yelp as the datapad flew out of your hands, landing on a bit of dry land while you had landed in a bed of heavy pollinated flowers.
It was all over your face and body, probably up your nose too because when you breathed in you sneezed, and started coughing. Your clothes were now soaked too, yippe fucking do.
You slowly pushed yourself up, wiping the pollen from your face with a grunt. You looked around, smiling when you saw your data pad unharmed. You went to stand up, but a burning feeling shot up your spine, and you fell back down to your knees, a sharp mewl falling from your mouth as the unwanted body part between your legs burned with what felt like the power of the sun. It hurt, but that familiar feeling of arousal made you ache more.
You crawled towards your data pad, small whimpers escaping your lips upon every move you made. You eventually reached the datapad, grabbing it and clutching it to your chest as you quickly tried to identify the pollen that was affecting you.
Your vision started to get blurry even as you tried to blink it away. “Fuck-” You whined out, watching as your datapad scanned the pollen and began analyzing… and the results that came back made you gasp, as well as the throbbing feeling between your legs.
“Shit-” you cursed, sex pollen was not something you wanted to encounter today, knowing that the only cure was sex, hence the name sex pollen. “Di’kut-” You cursed at yourself, curling your body into a fetal position, hoping it would relieve some of the pain and aches you were experiencing.
Just then you heard your com going off, a loud groan falling from your ;ips as you struggled to grab it from your belt. It was Din, that much was obvious.. but what on earth were you going to say to him? “Hey din guess what! i landed in a bat of sex pollen can you come fuck me so i can feel better?”
No! That was not what you were going to say.
You pressed the button on your com, biting down a desperate little whine, panting out what you needed to say. “Din i-i mph- i fell into some- so- hnng- trouble… i need your help, please” You bit down on your tongue to prevent a moan from escaping your lips, as one of your hands had miraculously found its way between your thighs, and started to try and relieve the throbbing pain that was coursing through your body.
“I’m on my way, hang tight Y/n” Din replied, and you let your com slip from your hands. “Fuckfuck- fuck!” You grunted, trying to remove your hand from between your legs but it wouldn’t budge- at least your body wouldn’t let it budge.
“Y/n? where are you?” You heard Din’s voice, deep.. sultry and gravelly… You couldn’t stop the whine this time, and he managed to hear it, rounding in on your location before he paused, seeing your hands between your legs, the wet spot growing larger the more you provided friction.
You were sweating, significantly more than you should have been. Your eyes were squeezed shut, but when you opened them you stared right at them, a glossy sheen reflected across your eyes, your pupils blown wide thanks to the pollen that was affecting you.
“We need to get you to a hospital.” He muttered, and went to grab you, but you moved away, and instead grabbed his arm and pulled him on the ground with you, before climbing on top of him. You were heaving, and trying so hard to snap out of the haze you were in, and you managed to do so, for a brief moment.
“Se-sex pollen… i fell- in-into sex- fuck! pollen.” You groaned, pressing your face into the cold metal of his chestplate, trying to relieve the heat in your face. “Shit.” Din cursed, and you could only groan in agreement.
The Mandalorian wrapped his arms around you, lifting you up as he got to his knees, and then to his feet, carrying you bridal style. “I’ll take you back to your ship, and we can deal with this together.” He muttered.
You didn;t know what he meant, but every time he took one step forward a soft whine, or a light moan left your lips, and you couldn’t tell, but he was starting to get aroused, hearing every little noise you made.
You reached your ship soon enough, and Din brought you to your small bunk room, laying you down on the bed as he stared for a moment as you writhed and tried to relieve yourself through your clothes.
He inhaled through his nose, and slowly started removing pieces of his armor until nothing but his helmet was left, and his underclothes which consisted of a thicker pair of light black trousers, and a long sleeved black tunic. Din took a step closer to you, but you didn’t look up, instead your face was buried into your pillows, muttering unintelligible words mixed in with moans.
Din gently cupped your face in his gloved hands, and you looked up into his visor, but to him you were looking directly into his eyes. “hey- hey… I'm going to undress you, okay?” He asked, and in your haze, you muttered a soft yes. You could say no anytime you wanted, but you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt for him, and you didn’t want to be in pain longer than you needed to be.
DIn was swift in removing your clothes, like he had done it hundreds of times before, and he probably has. But you trusted him, trusted him not to stick his dick inside you unless he was clean… Another thing you failed to mention to him was the fact that you were not biologically a male.
So when your pants and underwear were off and he came face to- well, vagina. He was a little surprised. “Your-”
“Trans-” You grunted out, gripping the sheets of your bed as you let your legs hang open in front of him, panting heavily. “I was- mph- saving up for surgery… this was the last job i needed.” You muttered through your haze. Din nodded, he didn’t judge, you were a fun person, you made him laugh, and smile even though you couldn’t see it.
“Can i-”
“yes! yes- please.” You whimpered. It's not like you haven't had sex before with that certain body part, and if it helped you, you were all for it. Of course anal was something you also enjoyed… for obvious reasons… probably.
You let your eyes fall closed while Din removed some articles of clothing. He removed his shirt, and undid the buckle of his pants before unbuttoning them too, before he paused. “Im- i’m gunna blindfold you.”He muttered, and you simply nodded, taking one last look at him before he took a piece of fabric and gently wrapped it around your eyes.
You heard a thunk not long after, and you assumed it was his helmet that he dropped to the floor.
You jolted when you felt his hand slide up your thigh before resting on your hip, jolting again when his second hand went in between your thighs to replace your hand. A groan fell from your lips upon contact, followed by a string of moans as he began circling your engorged clit with two fingers. Everything was heightened for you but even then he knew what he was doing…
Then he pulled his hand back, and a desperate whine fell from your lips, followed by a gasp as he grabbed your waist and flipped you around so you were on your hands and knees in front of him. “Din- what-”
You choked when you felt something wet press into your folds, and his fingers returned to your clit but this time you felt the sensation of skin, instead of fabric. Din was eating you out, licking and sucking up all the juices you created. You could already feel your orgasm building up in your gut, and Din could tell as your moans got louder, and more constant.
He was slow and articulate with his actions, not speeding up or doing anything to change what he was doing because he knew it would make you cum. And he was right as one loud moan left your lips, followed by a string of curses. He pulled his head back, and you could sense the grin on his face.
Your haze had lifted slightly with your first orgasm, but you knew you still had a ways to go… But you could think a little clearer, and it was nice to be able to form more coherent sentences.
“Fuck me.” You grumbled, turning to lay on your back, spreading your legs wide as if to entice him. “What was that cyare?” he asked you, teasing bastard.
“i said fuck me, Di’kut” You growled. Yes Din taught you mando’a, and it was fun to use, since you only called him an idiot every point of the day. “alright alright.” Din chuckled, his unmodified voice sent shivers down your spine, and straight to your core.
You let yourself relax, feeling the bed shift as Din’s weight was added to it. You felt his hands on your legs, a squeak leaving your lips when he pulled you down to him, your hips slotting against his almost perfectly. You felt his cock pressed between you, and you could tell that it was large, average in length, but thick.
perfect.
“You're clean?” You asked him, and he nodded, before realizing that he had blindfolded you so you couldn’t see. “Yes, I'm clean.” He replied, and took his cock into his hands, gliding the tip through your soaking wet folds before he pressed the tip to your awaiting entrance.
“Go ahead.” You muttered, and Din slowly pushed inside you. At first the stretch hurt, but the pollen kicked in and all that pain turned into overwhelming pleasure as he pushed inside of you, inch by inch until his hips were against yours.
You panted, and so did he as he allowed you a few moments to adjust and get comfortable before he slid out. You braced yourself, reaching up to his shoulders, feeling his broad and toned shoulders with your hands. And when he slammed into you your grip immediately tightened.
he was fucking you like- well you couldn’t even describe it. His style- the way he moved and pleased you was unlike anything you’ve felt before. He was rough, and dominant and yet all the same his touches were so gentle as he leaned forward and kissed up your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin on your jaw and collarbone, probably leaving marks all over your skin.
You moaned his name, repeatedly and it just stirred him on. He had one of your legs lifted up on his shoulder while the other he had wrapped around his hip. You started to get close again, and you tightened around his cock, hearing his own soft grunts and moans at the feeling.
“Din-” You choked out, digging your nails into the skin of his back and shoulders. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, huffing against your skin which sent more shivers down your spine. “I know… cum for me Mesh’la.” He grunted. And you did, like he commanded you too.
Another orgasm shot through you like a pod racer, and you whined and moaned his name, sliding one of your hands up to his hair, gripping it tightly, to which he moaned your name in response. So you did it again, and his thrusts got harder, and sloppier and you knew he was starting to get close too.
“Not inside.” You murmured, feeling him nod against your skin. He thrusted inside you a few more times before pulling out, and instead he replaced his cock with his fingers, rubbing his thumb against your clit while pumping his fingers inside of you. And just as he painted your stomach and chest with his cum, he brought you to yet another orgasm.
He pulled his fingers out of you, and leaned back to admire the mess that he had created. He smiled, and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek before getting off the bed. You laid there, unmoving as the effects of the pollen subsided, and you felt normal… well as normal as you could have been for just getting the daylights fucked out of you.
Din returned moments later with a damp cloth, and he gently cleaned the area between your thighs, followed by wiping his cum off your body. And as soon as his helmet was back on, your blindfold was removed, however at this point your eyes were still closed, and… you were snoring?
Din chuckled, cupping your cheek gently as he admired you, before dressing you in your underclothes, pulling on his own afterwards. Din was about to leave the room, but you had stirred, and watched as he turned to leave.
“wait-” you called out, watching as he turned to look at you. “We should do this again… after my surgery… and uh- without the pollen.” You chuckled, seeing the man tilt his head before he nodded.
“I’d like that… get some rest, i'll fly us back. My ship’s already docked on yours.” He explained, leaving to go start up your ship.
You smiled, and pulled your blankets over your body, chuckling to yourself. Who knew all it took was a little bit of pollen…
The long table is heavy with roasted meats, warm bread, bowls of stewed vegetables, wine poured into fine goblets. Candles flicker softly along the length of the hall, bathing everything in golden light.
Duncan sits stiffly beside you, back straight, hands folded carefully in his lap so he doesn’t disturb any lingering soreness. Every movement still costs him, but he refuses to show it.
You, meanwhile, are in an excellent mood.Right up until Aerion opens his mouth.
He leans back in his chair, smirking lazily, eyes flicking toward Duncan with open disdain.
“Must be embarrassing,” Aerion drawls, “to be beaten half to death by princes and still be paraded about like some heroic fool.”
You pause mid-bite.Slowly.Very slowly, as your head turns.
The room feels it, the temperature drops as Duncan tenses beside you and Egg is suddenly watching with much interest.
Aerion continues, enjoying himself far too much as if he can't take the sudden hint on how quiet the room went. “I mean truly — stabbed, crushed, knocked senseless. If that hedge knight had any pride, he’d crawl back to whatever ditch he came from.”
You set your fork down.Softly, you are still a Princess after all, then carefully you smile.A dangerous, sweet smile.
“It’s a shame you know...,” you say lightly, “that Duncan didn’t castrate you while he was at it.”
The table freezes.
Aerion blinks, as if he was trying to process of what you just said.You continue pleasantly.
“Because we truly do not need you spreading your seed across the realm.”
Maekar pinches the bridge of his nose, the man letting out a deep sigh.
You aren’t finished of course, your fingers poking at a stray strand of fabric.“Though I will say,” you add thoughtfully, “I rather enjoyed hearing you whine like a child having a toy taken away when he was beating you until you cried to yield.”
A squire chokes on his wine.
Duncan’s eyes widen.
Aerion’s face turns red.
You tilt your head, wine glass to your lips.“Tell me, brother,” you ask sweetly, “did you cry in your room afterward too?”
Dead silence.Then Aerion explodes because of course he would.“You insolent—!”
Maekar slams his goblet down.“Aerion.”
But Aerion is already leaning forward.“You think you’re clever, mocking me in front of everyone?”
“Oh no,” you reply calmly. “I think I’m accurate.”
“You little—”
“You cried,” you repeat pleasantly. “In front of knights. In front of princes. Over a man you called beneath you.”
Maekar pours himself more wine.A lot more wine.
“You will hold your tongue,” Aerion snarls.
You smile wider.“Or what? You’ll stab me too and still lose?”
Several knights look away to hide laughter.Duncan is doing a truly heroic job of not smiling.
Maekar rubs his temples.“Seven give me strength…”
Aerion rises halfway out of his chair.“You think Father will protect you forever?”
You lean back, completely relaxed.“He always does.”
That is what does it.
Aerion slams his hands on the table.“This is exactly why she should’ve been mine instead of parading about with kennel trash!”
Duncan stiffens instantly.Before he can speak, You are already on your feet.
“My gods,” you sigh. “You truly learned nothing while being beaten senseless.”
Maekar closes his eyes.“Enough.”
But Aerion keeps going.“She belongs with blood of the dragon, not some oversized oaf!!!"
That’s when Maekar finally snaps.“AERION.”
The entire hall jolts.
Maekar stands, pointing toward the doors.“Out.”
Aerion gapes. “Father—”
“Now.”
“But she—”
“OUT.”
Aerion sputters like an angry cat.“This is ridiculous—”
Maekar grabs a loaf of bread and points with it like a weapon.“Leave before I personally throw you through those doors.”
Silence.
Then chairs scrape.
Aerion storms toward the exit in a fury of silk and wounded pride.“This isn’t over,” he spits.
You wave cheerfully.“Try not to cry about it again!”
The doors slam.The hall is quiet for exactly three seconds.Then a knight snorts.Another laughs.Soon half the table is struggling to keep composure.
Maekar sinks back into his chair and drains his wine. "There is not enough wine in the realms to deal with this."
You sit back down, smoothing your dress.
Duncan leans slightly toward you, whispering in awe,“That was… magnificent.”
You smile sweetly.“Thank you.”
Maekar looks at you tiredly.“You enjoy provoking him.”
“Immensely.”
Maekar pours more wine.“I need stronger drink.”
Duncan, still trying not to laugh, gently squeezes your hand under the table.
Egg, from across the hall, grins proudly.“That’s my sister.”
And for the first time since the Trial, dinner is actually enjoyable.
500 word request Niece!reader who has loved Maekar from afar for years, finally getting to marry him, and he definitely shows her a good time.
fire in your blood
Maekar x Niece-Wife!Reader drabble
Note: You’re Baelor’s daughter in this, but otherwise undescribed.
Tags/Warnings: Targcest, Uncle/Niece, Age Gap, Older Man/Younger Woman, Smut, 18+
As a princess of the blood, the day of your marriage had long loomed above you like a great beast, but as your husband’s cloak was put upon your shoulder you only felt elation.
The whole night, you spent beaming at your new husband and your father alternatively, the biggest, most pleased smile splitting your cheeks. It was clear to all that you were a happy bride; but everyone had known this even long before the wedding.
It was known how your father Prince Baelor had finally given in and allowed you to marry his brother – a man you had spent your whole life infatuated with.
You were more excited than nervous when the time came to retire. Your septas had told you of what to expect, and your ladies had added – with impish smiles – that your uncle would surely bring you great pleasure, as there had to be a reason for his multitude of children.
“Husband,” you whispered against him as he began helping you undress. You adored that you could now call him such.
“Wife,” he echoed, the word rumbling in his chest, low and warm.
When you stood naked, you did not shy away from him – quite the contrary, you gravitated ever closer, like you had since childhood. Maekar was your sun, your moon and stars, the entire sky, be it night or day. You tugged at his laces impatiently, and he rewarded you with a pleased huff, assisting you in your endeavour until, he too, was bare as the day he was born.
He is beautiful, you noted, but he did not let you stare for long. Your uncle laid you against the silken sheets, caressing your skin, and you shivered despite the warmth of the hearth and the fire burning in your blood.
Maekar watched you squirm, rolling your nipples between thumb and forefinger until they stiffened. His touches had you squeezing your legs together to relieve the tension in your belly, and he quickly captured your knees to pry them apart, revealing your dewy center to his gaze.
Then, a slow drag of the blunt head of his cock through your folds ripped a moan from your throat.
“Kēpus,” you whimpered, “take me.”
He grunted, hips rutting once, but he did not enter you. “I need to prepare you first, tala,” he said, “otherwise there will be pain.”
A rather indignified, disgruntled sigh rose in your throat and you scrunched your nose. “Want to feel you,” you mumbled.
“Me too,” Maekar replied, voice shuddering as he slid his cock along your slit again and again, purposefully bumping a spot towards the top that had you biting your lip, “she’s so greedy for me. So wet. But we have to be patient. I don’t want you to hurt.”
He entered you with a finger, testing your tightness as he continued edging himself against you. After a few careful pumps, he added a second digit. His fingers were thick, thicker than yours, and two of his were already the equivalent of three, had you tried it yourself.
His thrusts, combined with the wet drag of his shaft between your thighs, were like nothing you had ever felt before.
“Are you gonna come for me, hmm? Do you want your kēpus to make you come?”
You nodded frantically, desperate for him to push you over, to let you reach this pinnacle, for the sweet ache – that tension inside of you to snap. Your legs kicked out, wrapping around his waist until he was only a change of angle away from fucking you in earnest.
“Fuck,” he panted and increased his pace, going harder and faster.
All at once, with little warning, your orgasm washed over you – the heavy slam of his pelvis against yours, the frantic plunging of his fingers into your cunt – melting into one single, mind-numbing sensation. You gasped his name, toes curling against Maekar’s back as fire raced through your limbs and your all-consuming need rose to a crescendo.
Distantly, as though far away, you noticed a foreign warmth at your abdomen, heated flesh throbbing. Once you had regained your breath, you looked down, only to find that Maekar had finished with you, ribbons of milky white painting your cunt and stomach. You frowned.
“I am no expert,” you said, “but should that not have been inside me?”
He flicked your forehead rudely, his face flushed as he panted around a curse. “Give me a minute, tala, and I will fill you plenty.”
“So what, we just wait?” you asked with a pout.
Maekar laughed, his lips curling around a smug smile. “I can think of something to pass the time that I am sure you will enjoy.”
He dropped to his knees, before placing your ankles over his shoulders. “Keep them there,” he instructed as he began kissing along your leg. “I’ll clean my mess.”
𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ it's not really smut it's an appreciation post for aging with a side of s-x
𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 858
cw: none?
You thought your passion would wane after the war. In that time, death was around every corner. Army camping grounds were chosen deliberately for safety, but the chance of an attack in the night was always possible. Tension took command of your brain; dread took your heart.
Victory quelled these anxieties. You could die tomorrow under the command of your general, your Targaryen prince, but tonight he brought you victory—so you lived it like it was your last. And they brought good wine for celebrations.
When times were hard, you sought the princely softness of his body to cushion yourself.
You sought his walls to sheathe your cock into and his body to warm yours by contact. Your energies should be better spent, but leftover adrenaline screams to be used.
You lose count of how many victories you celebrate, how many losses you grieve, and how many restless nights on the march you spend in the safety of Maekar's favor and the luxury of his bed.
Times grew soft, but after the war, Maekar's body grew harder. He has scars on his body, those you can count.
You thought your passion might wane, but it remains in this stare you share. Him on the bed, you on a chair.
It's early morning after another affair. You'd been watching the city and the Keep wake up from the window when Maekar woke up.
You hadn't noticed it at first, not until you felt his gaze burn a hole into your back, not until you looked back. He looks like a painting, like this, bare and spread upon his expensive sheets because he owns them. He's not shy about his body, but you don't stare too long, for his violet eyes have always captivated you.
There's no goodmorning spilled from your lips, not yet; there is only the stare exchanged between lazy, waking eyes. His violets convey a passion that only grew, taking their turn to drag over your body. You're naked on his chair acting like you own it, and his royal blood beckons him argue, but you'd captured his heart long ago: you own his heart, you own his everything.
His body is thicker. By sight, you can tell, but you feel it against you too when you press your bodies close to kiss. The kiss is slow, lazy, tired—the way you press closer is not. You feel his thighs enclose your body and his stomach press against yours.
In his youth, his skin was tighter, stretched across defined muscle. His figure was sharp, your hand could move in waves over his abs or biceps. He could run through a thousand men in one battle and still have the strength to fuck you once it was over.
He's gained weight, but you cherish it. War no longer requires rations, nor do sieges cause famine. For years, the royal family has sowed peace after winning the war, and the fruits of it have allowed him to live in the luxury of excess.
As your hands drag down his body and meld it like clay, you think about how you were a helping hand in the war, how, really, you're one of the reasons why Maekar can live in such a way.
You trail away from his lips to kiss lower down his body, jumping from scar to scar. As skilled a warrior as he is, one can never totally avoid injury.
Each scar has a story, but you can remember a time he didn't have any scars at all.
You were still apprehensive about your relationship. You were both men, he was far above your station as a royal prince, and you were but a soldier, and yet the passion that flowed through you...
You remember the guilt of forbidden love. You'd led entirely different lives, and by expectations of court, you should've been condemned to never cross paths, let alone form an affair.
The guilt washed away eventually, replaced by the knowledge that your love was right and mutual.
You remember kissing your own aimless path down his strong body in your youth, whereas now you have scars to guide the way.
You've less energy now, and that's a change for the both of you. It's not just that the war is over, that adrenaline has left you, it's that you're older.
So it's rather a surprise that you've the energy in this morning to fuck him once more, after the night you had.
It sort of makes you feel young. Maekar's hands scratch down your back, his beautiful voice releasing groans. Yours settle on his hips as you grind your cock into his hole strong and deep.
Sure, you'll never fuck like you're young again—that is, fast and hard and more than twice in a row—but you don't need that anymore, because you're sure now that Maekar is yours in an oath neverending.
You speak this oath against his lips, a soft "I love you", your first words of the day.
He returns them easily, just the same as you, with the passion you've been thinking about all morning, "I love you too."
Tags/Warnings: 18+, Smut, A/b/o Dynamics, Age Difference, Older Man/Younger Woman, Targcest, Uncle/Niece, Breeding Kink, Knotting, Mating Bites, Porn Without Plot
Summary: Your uncle's arrival for your upcoming wedding to Valarr triggers your first heat.
Words: 1.3k
Note: This is purely self-indulgent smut that I have written for myself for my birthday. Also, not edited at all.
Valyrian blood came not only with the ability to command dragons. For some, it came with heightened senses, greater strength, a generally domineering personality. In the Common Tongue, those of this disposition were called Alpha. Warriors, leaders, fierce protectors.
But where there was Alpha, there needed to be its contrasting force. Omega. Meant to calm others with their allure, their beauty, and eager to yield to someone worthy. Fertile. Able to proliferate the blood.
Those of the blood who did not inherit either were called Beta. They were the same as Common Folk.
Since the death of the dragons, the Targaryens had suffered a decided lack of Omegas, and Alphas had begun to dwindle as well.
Only one of King Daeron’s four sons, who had been a Beta himself, presented as Alpha. His youngest. Some had feared he would try to challenge Prince Baelor, as Daemon – born an Alpha and a bastard – had challenged Daeron the Good. But Prince Maekar loved his brother deeply and fought at his side to protect his claim.
His virility as an Alpha was proven when he fathered six children on his wife, though she perished after the sixth. Some said that it had been cruel to marry a Beta woman to an Alpha, for there was no way for her to keep up with his appetites.
Maekar’s eldest was a Beta, his second as well, the others too young still to tell their designation, if they had one. He had not remarried. Had spent his biannual ruts in seclusion, locked away for others’ safety.
And then, you happened. His oldest niece. No one had expected you to present as anything, but they certainly rejoiced when you did. A new Omega. The first in decades. You were promptly promised to Valarr, the heir’s heir. To bear the Beta man children who would hopefully be luckier than he and inherit your blood, strengthen the main line again.
You had developed your glands, matured into the willowy body so known for Omegas, but you had not had your first heat. No one knew when it would happen, only that it would be soon.
Whoever had allowed your uncle to come to the Keep for your upcoming nuptials to Valarr had been a fool. Only smart enough not to leave you alone with him, not to let you touch.
But with so few Alphas and Omegas around, they had forgotten. You did not need to be especially close, nor touch. The moment your uncle entered the castle, you could smell him.
It was the sweetest, most addicting scent you had ever known. And soon after, your body betrayed you. The slick that coated your thighs was thick and copious as you writhed in your bed, belly stabbing with the pain of emptiness. Your heat had come upon you, and you laid there, keening, needing, knowing that the only one who could help you was your uncle and his knot.
In between waves of arousal, you gathered all the pillows, blankets and fabrics you could find, building a nest atop your bed, something to be proud of – a good place to have pups, to be bred.
The moment it had happened, you had been sequestered in your chambers, two guards at your door, trusted men. Only women were allowed to come inside and attend you.
Two days passed like this. You did not know this, but Maekar was suffering as much as you, if not more. He had known, too, the moment he entered the castle, that you were meant for him. That he had triggered your first heat had only confirmed it.
As soon as his brother became aware of your predicament, Baelor had ordered him confined. Maekar had cursed at him, accused him of a lack of trust, but ultimately he had known that his eldest brother was right.
Oh, how right he had been. He should have done more.
Maekar watched you, watched how you took his cock, your cunt all too eager to swallow him, squeeze the life out of him.
Four guards – two at his door, two at yours, had not been nearly enough, once his rut had begun, triggered early due to what you had awakened in him.
Your mewls were heavenly, sinful, everything in between. They were his entire world. He rutted into you with a force that would surely bruise, but your heat would not let you feel it, working overtime to heal you quickly, to make you receptive and resilient.
Every thrust had his knot catching more, the ridges rubbing against your gummy walls.
“She wants me to breed her, doesn’t she?” he growled, leaning down to mouth over your throat, over your mating gland. Something deep down inside him knew he should not do this. If he bit you there, Maekar would make your womb useless to all but him. It would not bear pups for any seed but his. But just the thought of you, swollen with child – with children – that were not his, had him wanting to rage, destroy, and take you far away.
He would not let anyone separate you from him. As a last effort, Maekar tried to recall how small you’d been as a babe, how innocent, tried to grasp onto the image to stop himself from knotting you, from claiming you, but it would not hold.
Maekar could only see you as you were beneath him, grown, tits ready to fill with milk, hips wide, perfect for birthing. And you were moaning his name, begging him for his cock, for his knot, for his seed. “Please, kēpus, please, I want it, want your pups, please, need it.”
His groin was soaked with your juices, the evidence of how ready you were. With your legs drawn over his shoulders, pressed to your front, you were as close as you could be, panting against each other.
The longer he fucked you, the higher your wails became, the more incoherent your babbles, and he knew that you were close.
“Kēpus,” you moaned when your muscles tensed and the mindless bliss of your orgasm took you.
Your cunt clamped around him, spasming, and it was this which caused his knot to lock you together, his own release only two small rocks of his hips behind, flooding you with spurts of cum as his head lowered to your nape, and pierced the tender, inflamed skin of your glands.
The horror that raced down his spine was but a shadow compared to the joy, to the lust. It was like he was coming again, and his cock jerked, filling you even more. You would have overflowed, had his knot not kept it all inside.
He saw how your abdomen swelled with the sheer amount of seed he had released into you.
You could feel the fullness, too. You trembled around his cock, cunt still fluttering, trying to draw even more from him – everything he could give.
Maekar had never known this pleasure, this rightness.
On the rare occasions Dyanna had managed to coax a knot from him, it had not been like this. She had borne it out of love for him, but he always knew that it had been uncomfortable for her. Not with you.
You whimpered around it, and moved, fucking yourself on his still hard cock. Utterly insatiable. “More,” you demanded, breathless, “please, I need more, it needs to take, uncle, kēpus, please.”
When Baelor reached your chambers, Maekar had already begun taking you again, each thrust jolting your body, the bite mark at your throat sluggishly weeping blood.
He growled at his brother and bared his teeth, covering you with his body, but he did not stop rutting into you. Baelor did not meet his eyes, instead glancing somewhere over his shoulder, a faint, embarrassed flush on his face.
“Peace, brother,” he reassured, “we will not take you from her.” We can’t. You’ve claimed her. Your niece. Who had been meant as a bride for your nephew.
Hey! Long time reader, first time caller. How do you think they handle battle lust?
ooh hello!!! :)
BAELOR:
Baelor absolutely gets battle lust, but he’s disciplined about it in a way that somehow makes it hotter. He comes back from the field or the tiltyard covered in sweat and dust, adrenaline still singing in his veins, and he’s controlled about it. Finds you, cups your face and kisses you slow and hungry like he’s proving to himself you’re real and safe and his.
But you can feel the tremor in his hands. The way his breath comes too fast. The barely-leashed want radiating off him.
He won’t take you rough unless you blatantly make it clear that’s what you want. He’s generally too aware of his own strength, too careful with you even when he’s half-feral with need. But once you give permission? Once you pull him close and tell him yes?
He’s intense. All that controlled violence gets channeled into the way he touches you—firm, possessive, thorough, leaving no doubts you’re his. He needs to feel you, needs the proof of life and warmth and softness after hours of steel and blood. Fucks you like he’s trying to crawl inside your skin, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, eye contact throughout. Afterwards he holds you so tight it almost hurts, hands mapping your body like he’s memorising it. Battle makes him viscerally aware of mortality, and he handles that by worshipping you until the fear subsides.
MAEKAR:
Maekar’s battle lust is raw. He comes back from a fight bloody and wired and hard, and he needs an outlet immediately. Doesn’t even take his armour all the way off sometimes—just enough to free himself, enough to get his hands on you, enough to mark you. It’s rough. Urgent. A little desperate. He’s not trying to hurt you, but he’s also not gentle—can’t be, not with adrenaline still screaming through his system, burning through everything. He bites your shoulder and grips your hips hard enough to bruise. Fucks you against whatever surface is closest because he can’t wait, can’t be patient, needs this now. More likely to fuck you from behind too, more raw that way.
But here’s the thing: he always checks in after. Once the edge is off and he can think clearly again, he runs careful hands over you, looking for marks, making sure he didn’t go too far. Gruff, quiet mutters if he was rougher than intended. Then round two, slower, where he makes up for the urgency with thoroughness.
You learn to read the signs: if he comes back with that look in his eyes, you either get out of the way or brace yourself. You’ve learned to prefer the latter.
AERION:
Aerion’s battle lust is straight up dangerous. He gets off on violence in a way that’s honestly a little (a lot) fucked up, and after a fight he’s wired and vicious and looking for somewhere to put all that manic energy.
He doesn’t come to you sweet or tender. He comes to you sharp-edged and volatile, pupils blown, still riding the high of winning/losing. Needs to dominate something, needs to prove he’s still in control, needs to channel the violence somewhere it won’t get him killed.
It’s aggressive. He’s rougher than Maekar, meaner, more likely to leave marks deliberately. Bites hard enough to break the skin, holds you down. Makes you feel him, makes you remember this for days. There’s an edge of genuine cruelty to it—not because he wants to hurt you specifically, but because the violence is still singing in his blood and he doesn’t know how to be gentle when he’s like this.
But (and this is complicated) he also needs you specifically. Not just any outlet. You. Because you’re the only person who can take his worst impulses and not break, who can meet his intensity without flinching. After, when he’s spent and shaking, he clings to you with something close to desperation. Won’t say he needs you, but his body does the talking for him.
You’re not sure if you’re helping him or enabling him. Probably both.
DAERON:
Daeron doesn’t really do battle anymore if he can help it, but on the rare occasions he’s forced into it and survives? He comes back needing you in a way that’s more about reassurance than lust. He wants to be held. Needs softness and to remember there are things in the world that aren’t blood and screaming and the horrible clarity that comes from almost dying. He’s shaking—from adrenaline, from fear, from the effort of holding himself together.
Sex, when it happens, is slow and almost desperate. He needs closeness, needs to be inside you not because he’s aggressive but because he needs to not be alone in his own head. Buries his face in your neck and breathes you in like you’re air. Might cry after, quietly, while you hold him.
It’s the only time he doesn’t drink himself stupid. Turns to you instead, uses your body as an anchor to reality, clings to you like you’re the only solid thing in his world.
It breaks your heart every time.
VALARR:
Valarr handles battle lust with the same iron control he applies to everything else, which means he doesn’t handle it, he just contains it until he’s alone with you and can let it out safely.
He’s wound tight when he finds you after a fight. Controlled. Polite, even. But you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw is clenched, the barely-restrained need in his eyes. He asks permission first, always, even like this. “May I?” with his hands already shaking from holding back. And once you say yes, he just… cracks.
It’s intense but not violent. He’s passionate, almost frantic, like he’s been holding back for so long that now he can finally feel and it’s overwhelming. Kisses you like he’s drowning. Touches you everywhere, can’t get enough. Makes love to you with single-minded focus, determined to make you fall apart because he needs to feel in control of something.
Afterwards he’s embarrassed by his own loss of composure. Apologises for being too much, too uncontrolled. You have to reassure him that you liked it, that seeing him drop the perfect-prince mask is a gift, not a burden.
He never quite believes you.
LYONEL:
Lyonel’s battle lust is honestly really enthusiastic. He comes back from a fight grinning, blood-spattered, riding the high of victory, and he’s delighted to see you. Wraps you up in his arms, laughs against your mouth, tells you about the fight in between kisses.
Sex is energetic and fun. He’s strong enough to manhandle you exactly how he wants you even after the physical toll, and he does—against walls, over furniture, holding you up while you wrap your legs around him. He’s not trying to be rough, he’s simply enthusiastic and a warrior and doesn’t always remember his own strength. Lots of laughter, lots of creative positions, zero shame. He’s a Baratheon—they’re not subtle people I’m afraid 😭 If he wants you, he takes you, and he makes sure you enjoy every second of it.
Afterwards he’s affectionate and loose-limbed, pulling you into his lap, still buzzing with energy. Might go again and again. The man has stamina, and battle only amps it up.
You’re definitely sore the next day.
DUNK:
Dunk doesn’t really understand battle lust at first. He just knows he comes back from fighting confused and wired and wanting in a way that makes him deeply uncomfortable because he’s not sure if it’s appropriate. He tries to stay away from you after battles because he thinks you don’t want to see him covered in blood and dirt, thinks his desire is something shameful he should handle alone.
You have to go to him. Find him in the armoury or the bathhouse, still tense and restless. Tell him it’s okay, that you understand, that you want this too. He’s hesitant at first—so careful, so worried about hurting you. But once you make it clear you’re not fragile, once you give him permission to let go a little?
He’s surprisingly intense. Not rough, but passionate. Holds you like you’re precious but fucks you like he needs you. All that nervous energy channeled into making you feel good, into proving he’s more than just fists and violence.
Afterwards he holds you close and marvels quietly that you still want him even after seeing what he’s capable of. You kiss him and tell him you want all of him, including this.
He falls a little more in love with you every time.
DAEMON BLACKFYRE:
Daemon’s battle lust is very much glory-drunk. He comes back from a fight riding the high of victory, blood singing, convinced he’s invincible, and he needs to celebrate. Needs to prove he’s alive, needs to feel like a conqueror in every possible way.
Sex is confident, dominant, theatrical almost. He poses you how he wants you, takes his time, makes sure you know he’s just won. It’s not quite rough but it’s definitely possessive. He’s staking a claim, proving his prowess, enjoying the way you respond to him. He’s good at it, too. Knows exactly how to make you fall apart, and he’s smug about it. Will absolutely make you say his name, make you admit how good he makes you feel.
Afterwards he lounges like a satisfied dragon, pulling you against his chest, already thinking about the next fight, the next victory. You’re his prize, his reward, proof that he deserves the crown he’s reaching for.
It should probably bother you more than it does. But he’s too good at this for you to care.
BLOODRAVEN:
Brynden’s battle lust is less fire and more cold. He comes back from killing people with the same eerie calm he has always, but there’s something jagged underneath it. Something that needs an outlet before it turns inward and potentially dangerously poisonous.
He doesn’t ask sweetly. Just looks at you with that one eye and you just know. Know he needs this, needs you, needs to remember he’s human and not just a weapon. Sex is controlled but intense. He’s meticulous, intentional, determined to make you fall apart under his hands because control is how he handles the chaos of battle. He needs to orchestrate something, needs to prove he can create pleasure as easily as he creates death.
He watches you the whole time. Studies every reaction and files it away in that frighteningly organised mind of his.
Afterwards he’s quiet, thoughtful. Traces patterns on your skin. Sometimes tells you about the fight in clinical detail—who died, how, why. It should be disturbing. Somehow it’s intimate instead. You’re the only person who gets to see him like this: stripped of the spymaster persona, just a man who’s very good at violence trying to remember what softness feels like.
AEGON I:
Aegon’s battle lust is monumental. He comes back from conquest feeling like a god, and he needs to express that somehow. Needs to remind himself he’s still flesh, still mortal, still bound to the earth through desire and pleasure.
He’s not rough, but he’s overwhelming. Takes up all the space, all the air, everything around you. Undresses you slowly while telling you about the battle, what he saw, what he did. His voice is low and hypnotic and by the time he’s actually touching you, you’re already half-gone.
Sex is slow, deep, impossibly intense. He takes his time, makes it last for hours. Wants to savor this, wants to luxuriate in being alive and victorious and desired. He’s confident enough that he doesn’t need to rush, doesn’t need to prove anything. Just enjoys you thoroughly and completely.
Rhaenys and Visenya probably get the same treatment before or after you. He’s got the stamina of a man who’s conquered kingdoms—one woman is never going to be enough to burn off that energy.
You don’t mind sharing. How could you? You’re being worshipped by a living legend.
MAEGOR:
Maegor’s battle lust is violent, and it doesn’t have an outlet that won’t end in someone getting hurt.
He comes back from killing people covered in blood (sometimes his, usually theirs) so and he’s still riding that vicious high. Still wants to dominate something, to break something, to channel the violence somewhere before it turns inward and makes him do something even he’ll regret.
He doesn’t come to you. Not like this. He knows better.
Goes to the training yard instead and destroys practice dummies until his hands bleed. Spars with his Kingsguard until they’re limping. Finds some other outlet (any other outlet) because the alternative is coming to you while his blood is still singing with violence, and he’s self-aware enough to know that would be dangerous if he has even a shred of care somewhere in there for you.
You’re not sure whether to be relieved or insulted by it. He’s protecting you, in his own very twisted way. Keeping his worst impulses away from you because he knows he can’t be trusted like this, but sometimes (rarely) he comes to you after he’s already burned through the worst of it. After he’s exhausted himself enough that he’s no longer a threat. He’s still wound tight, still dangerous, but the edge is off enough that he can touch you without risking real harm.
Sex is still rough. Possessive. He grips too hard, bites too deep, holds you down with enough force that you’ll bruise. But it’s controlled roughness—he’s riding the ragged edge of his self-discipline, constantly monitoring himself to make sure he doesn’t cross the line into actual damage.
It’s intense and uncomfortable and more than a little frightening. You can feel how much he’s holding back, feel the violence trembling just beneath his skin. One wrong move and he could hurt you, and you both know it. Afterwards he’s silent. Won’t look at you directly. He leaves before dawn. Doesn’t apologise (Maegor doesn’t apologise) but you notice he’s gentler the next few times. As if making up for it in the only way he knows how.
You wonder sometimes what would happen if he ever truly lost control with you. Wonder if the self-discipline would hold.
You’re not sure you want to find out.
AN: If you want the Lady Stark (aka the sacred Jedi texts) feel free to let me know since I kept these super generic.
maekar targaryen x male, Velaryon, reader, his beloved returned home. He came back different, but still the same.
The last letter had gone through a few days ago. From that moment on, there was silence. Not a single message, not a single rumor, gossip, or echo of a message. Nothing that spoke of [Name] Velaryon. Makear was starting to worry. Though perhaps someone wise would have told him it was normal. Such things happen, especially when you have a vast fleet under your command.
Cursed be their ships. Cursed be his father, who had banished him to the sea.
Maekar cursed silently. For over a year, all he had done was curse everything and everyone he held responsible for taking [Name] Velaryon away from him.
He missed him, the children missed him. The letters weren't the same, even if they arrived frequently, along with small gifts, shells, and trinkets; they weren't the presence of his beloved man.
Maekar had a hard time coming to terms with this. After a long time, they had finally… come to an end. Thay relationshp. After years of dancing around each other, with half-words, hints, and furtive moments in the shadows, their relationship had finally somehow… become public.
They stopped hiding. And in that moment, [Name] was called to lead a fleet to fight in the Stepstones, defending the Velaryon family and the Crown. Maekar had never been so furious. He waited, waited for him.
“Are there any letters?” he asked early in the morning, the sun still hadn’t risen. The world seemed shrouded in the pastel haze of a summer morning.
The servant shook his head. He placed the breakfast tray on the table and left. Maekar still hadn’t left his bed. A few days ago, it had been a year since he’d seen his lover. He missed him. He wondered how he’d changed. Such experiences… change people.
[Name] was younger than him, not by much, but still a few years younger. Built like a knight, though [Name] had only competed in tournaments a few times. Strong, young, and beautiful, next to him – a bitter widower. Still – it worked for them. The younger Velaryon loved his children as if they were his own. Which gladdened Maekar’s heart.
He sighed when someone knocked loudly on the door to his chamber. He merely grunted permission to enter. The door swung open. Maekar turned his head lazily, barely interested.
And he froze. [Name] was there. At first, he barely recognized him. But it was definitely him.
"Surprise," he said quietly, as always, with a small smile on his lips. He entered the chamber and closed the door behind him. "I'm sorry I didn't let you know, but I wanted to surprise you." He sat down on the bed.
Those eyes he knew so well were looking at Maekar. The same eyes, the same smile, the same face…
"You've changed," Maekar said calmly, looking at [Name] intently from the top of his hair to his legs. He looked… still the same, but there was something new about him. His body was bigger, stronger. The muscles in his arms were more defined, the veins in his hands were visible. A few sun wrinkles lined his face. "Stronger, bigger. Not a young boy. I barely recognized you when you came in."
The smile on his face faded slightly. "I'm sorry, on the ship… there's a lot of work, it…"
"Fool, you don't have to apologize." Maekar shook his head. He sat down on the bed and took [Name]'s hand in his pale fingers. "You were gone for a year. Don't ever dare leave me for so long again."
The smile returned to young Velaryon's face. "I promise. I'll stay with you longer now. No force will drive me out to sea."
We're getting freaky in here. Ever since I watched AKOTSK I had this impending need of writing this piece (so it's very kind of self-indulging).
How would Baelor and Maekar react to you having a size kink?
Includes: Baelor Targaryen and Maekar Targaryen x f!lady in waiting!reader
Warning(s): size kink (you have it), kind of suggestive but not NSFW just yet, lots of feelings.
Baelor realized something was wrong with you long before you intended him to.
Or perhaps not wrong. Simply dangerous.
Because lately, every time he came too close to you, your entire body betrayed you in increasingly humiliating ways.
You noticed the breadth of him constantly now. The size of his hands when he passed scrolls across council tables. The way his shoulders filled doorways. The warmth of him whenever he stood behind you, large enough that his presence alone seemed to crowd the air from your lungs.
And Gods, when he touched you, even casually, you felt it everywhere. And, tragically for you, once Baelor noticed it, he could not stop noticing.
The realization had settled slowly over weeks. You liked how large he was. Not merely admired it, enjoyed it; craved it. And, perhaps, the most devastating part was just how innocent your reactions seemed at first, as though you did not fully realize how transparent you became around him.
Like now.
The Queen’s solar had emptied for the evening, leaving only soft firelight and drifting silence behind. Queen Myriah had retired already, and you sat curled sideways upon one of the chairs, sorting correspondence while Prince Baelor stood nearby reviewing council reports.
Or pretending to, because he had caught you staring at his hands three separate times in the last several minutes.
Your gaze kept lingering where his fingers wrapped around parchment, broad palms flexing absently as he turned pages. You looked up at precisely the wrong moment, because Baelor was rolling his sleeves slowly, exposing strong forearms corded subtly with muscle from years of swordsmanship despite the duties that now kept him behind council tables more often than battlefields.
Your throat went dry instantly. Unfortunately for your dignity, he looked up and caught you staring directly at his forearms.
Silence stretched, and then one dark brow lifted slightly. “You are distracted tonight.”
Heat climbed into your face immediately. “I am not.”
Baelor’s mouth softened faintly at the corners, though his eyes remained terribly observant.
“I am sure you have read the same document three times.”
You looked quickly back down at the parchment in your lap despite retaining absolutely none of it. “That proves nothing.”
A quiet breath of amusement escaped him. Heat continued spreading through your face. Baelor noticed that too. His mouth softened faintly at the corners before he set his own parchment aside and crossed the room toward you.
And gods, there it was again, that impossible awareness the moment he approached.
Baelor moved quietly for such a large man, but his presence still filled the space around you effortlessly. Broad shoulders blocked firelight as he stopped beside you, one hand resting lightly against the carved wood of the back of your chair that rose above your head.
You had to tilt your chin upward to look at him properly. That alone sent warmth curling low through your stomach.
Baelor saw the reaction immediately, his eyes darkened slightly.
“Ah,” he said softly.
Your heartbeat stumbled. “Ah, what?”
“You truly do like this.”
Gods. You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.
“I do not know what you mean.”
“You do.” His voice remained maddeningly calm. “You become very quiet whenever I stand over you like this.”
Your pulse turned traitorous beneath your skin. Because he was right.
The sheer size of him this close affected you in ways you struggled to explain even to yourself: the breadth of his chest, the quiet, gentle steadiness of his strength, the feeling of being surrounded completely by someone capable of overwhelming force who nevertheless handled you with unbearable softness.
Safe. You felt safe. And perhaps he understood that now.
Baelor’s expression softened visibly at whatever he saw in your face. Then, slowly, he crouched before you. Even kneeling, he remained large enough to make your breath catch.
“You should have told me,” he murmured.
“There was nothing to tell.”
A quiet laugh escaped him at that. “So, this means nothing?”
Before you could answer, his hands settled carefully around your waist. Warm and broad and completely spanning you.
The breath left your lungs instantly, Baelor felt it happen.
You saw the realization move through him all at once: the visible understanding, the dangerous tenderness entering his gaze, the sudden awareness of how deeply this affected you.
His thumbs brushed lightly against your sides. “You like when I touch you like this,” he said softly.
Heat climbed higher into your face and Baelor looked devastatingly pleased by that, something dangerously close in resemblance to smugness dancing in his eyes. Because underneath the teasing calm, you could see what truly affected him: that you trusted him, that you relaxed beneath his frame instead of shrinking away.
“You make me feel very small,” you admitted finally, voice quieter now. The words shattered something visible in him.
Baelor inhaled slowly, eyes softening almost painfully. Hands tightening faintly around your waist before loosening again with deliberate care. No one had ever looked at you like that before, like your vulnerability was precious.
His forehead lowered slowly against the crook of your neck, pressing against it with utter tenderness. The intimacy of the gesture nearly stole your breath.
“You have no idea,” he murmured softly against you, “what that does to me.”
Your fingers slipped instinctively into his dark silvered hair and Baelor exhaled shakily, his warm breath sending shivers against the soft skin of where your neck met your chest . Then, before you could fully gather yourself again, he rose smoothly to his feet and lifted you with him.
Effortlessly. Completely effortlessly. A startled sound escaped you immediately.
Baelor held you securely against his chest as though your weight meant nothing at all, one arm beneath your thighs while the other supported your back.
The room tilted slightly with the sudden movement. Your hands grabbed instinctively at his shoulders. And gods, the look on his face afterward nearly ruined you entirely.
No longer smugness. Wonder. Like he could physically feel how much you loved this.
“You should see yourself right now,” he murmured.
“You are enjoying this far too much.”
“Yes,” he admitted softly. “Because you are looking at me as though I have hung the moon.” He smiled tenderly, the tip of his sharp canines showing.
You hid your face briefly against his shoulder in embarrassment and Baelor laughed quietly beneath his breath before setting you again safely on the chair. His arms remained firm around you, body surrounding yours entirely in warmth and impossible steadiness alike.
You could feel how carefully he handled you despite all that strength and that was the worst part by far. Not merely that he was large enough to overwhelm you easily, but that he chose gentleness anyway.
The armoury always smelled like steel and oil and smoke. You liked it more than you probably should have, perhaps because it carried traces of him everywhere.
Prince Maekar spent more time here than he did in half the rooms assigned to him in the Red Keep. The space suited him too well —dim torchlight glinting off blades and armour, stone walls holding the lingering warmth of exertion, the air thick with the sharp scent of metal and sweat alike.
It felt honest, and so did he. At least here.
You found him exactly where you expected: near the long wooden table at the centre of the room, still dressed in training leathers darkened slightly with sweat, one large hand braced against the edge of the table while the other adjusted the leather wrapping at his wrist.
Gods, the sight alone nearly sent warmth through your entire body. Maekar looked enormous beneath the low torchlight.
Broad shoulders stretched tight beneath dark fabric, white hair damp from exertion and half-loosened from his usual tidied placement, pale strands sticking faintly to scarred skin and beard alike. Every movement carried heavy controlled strength, the kind that made lesser men instinctively move aside when he entered rooms.
And unfortunately for your dignity, you liked it far too much.
You had tried not to, you really had, but the first time Maekar absentmindedly lifted you above a table in the middle of a conversation just because you had not wanted to look him in the eyes and that movement left you at the perfect height for him, something in your brain was forever altered.
Now every little thing affected you: the size of his hands, the breadth of his chest, the way he crowded close without realizing how overwhelming he felt physically.
And recently, gods help you, you thought he had started noticing.
You leaned lightly against the doorway. “You are avoiding dinner again.”
Maekar glanced over immediately, then paused. That always happened now too, that tiny hesitation the moment he saw you. Like some instinct in him shifted instantly toward you before the rest of him caught up.
“I was occupied,” he answered.
“With trying to bludgeon innocent training dummies into submission?”
“They lost.”
You laughed softly and noticed how the sound visibly affected him. His eyes darkened slightly while something warmer flickered briefly beneath the usual severity of his expression.
Then his gaze lowered, straight to the way your hands gripped the doorway while looking at him, and suddenly you realized, much too late, that you had been staring again.
At his arms. At his shoulders. At the sheer impossible size of him beneath torchlight.
Heat crept into your face immediately. Maekar went very still.
“You are doing it again,” he said quietly.
Your heartbeat stumbled. “Doing what?”
“Looking at me like that.”
Oh, no.
You tried for innocence. “I do not know what you mean.”
Maekar stared at you for one long moment, then slowly, deliberately, he straightened to his full height.
Seven hells. It should have been illegal for one man to look like that.
The movement only emphasized the terrifying breadth of him, heavy muscle beneath dark fabric, towering height, the raw physicality of someone built more like a warhorse than a prince.
And the worst part? He was watching your reaction now. Carefully.
Your pulse fluttered traitorously beneath your skin and Maekar noticed immediately in the way you faltered. The realization moved visibly through him. Not arrogance, but rather something similar to shock. Like he genuinely had not expected this.
“You like it,” he said quietly. The words landed directly in your stomach.
You crossed your arms instinctively. “You are imagining things.”
“No.” He stepped closer. “I am not.”
Gods. Every step of his felt unfair.
The armoury suddenly seemed much smaller with him crossing it toward you, torchlight catching sharply against pale hair and violet eyes alike while his sheer size crowded warmth and tension into the air around you.
You held your ground anyway. Mostly because your knees might have failed if you attempted retreat.
Maekar stopped directly before you, close enough that you had to tilt your head back fully to maintain eye contact. And gods, that was part of it too: the feeling of being small beside him. Of being physically surrounded by someone so much larger and stronger while knowing with absolute certainty he would never hurt you.
Your breath caught softly and, unfortunately for you, Maekar heard it. The look that crossed his face afterward nearly ruined you. Slow understanding. Heat. Something dangerously close to hunger.
“You truly do,” he murmured.
His hand settled against your waist then. And gods, just one hand. One massive hand spanning nearly the entirety of your waist through the fabric of your gown.
Your entire body reacted instantly. Maekar felt it happen. You saw the exact second realization struck him fully: the widening of his pupils, the deeper pull of breath into his lungs, the way his fingers tightened instinctively before loosening again with visible restraint.
“You become nervous when I stand close,” he said softly.
“I do not.”
“You stop breathing properly.”
Your face burned hotter and Maekar looked devastatingly affected by that. Not smug, more like emotionally overwhelmed. Like the knowledge that you desired him this way genuinely unsettled him somewhere deep beneath the ribs.
His other hand came up slowly until both palms rested at your waist now, entirely surrounding you. The contrast nearly made your head spin: you looked tiny beneath him. Maekar noticed you realizing it too. And gods, something in him snapped quietly at the sight.
Before you could fully gather your thoughts, he lifted you. Effortlessly.
A startled breath escaped you as your back met cool stone beside the doorway a second later, Maekar settling you easily atop one of the lower storage tables built into the wall.
The movement had been so casual. So easy. Like your weight meant absolutely nothing to him. And gods, that affected you embarrassingly much.
Maekar stepped between your knees immediately afterward, large hands still firm at your waist while his chest pressed close enough for warmth to radiate through your clothes.
You could feel every inch of how much larger he was like this. The breadth of him. The weight of him. The sheer, overwhelming presence surrounding you entirely.
Your fingers caught instinctively against his shoulders. Solid, broad, immovable. Maekar looked at you then with an expression so raw it nearly stole your breath entirely.
“You like when I handle you,” he said hoarsely.
The vulnerability hidden beneath the observation shattered something soft inside your chest.
“Yes,” you finally admitted quietly.
He closed his eyes briefly, like the answer physically affected him.
When he looked at you again, something darker had entered his gaze now —unadulterated hunger tangled tightly with emotion.
His forehead lowered slowly against yours.
“You have no idea,” he murmured roughly, hands tightening carefully at your waist, “what that just did to me.”
It is the first time I am writing something this suggestive and I really don't know how it turned out. What do you think?
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