#papa dunk

[sgreer123]

Dunks kids aesthetic

That gif IS baby Dunk 🥹

[knightofcassiopeia]

more papa dunk please 🙏 you’ve written him so domestic and i LOVE IT

His Two Shooting Stars

synopsis; a man fishing with his little ones. (and his little egg.)

genre; fluff

pairing; ser duncan the tall/reader

warnings; egg curses, that’s about it!

a/n; IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. love you all 😖💞

Mornings had always been quiet, ever since the cottage had become a suitable home for the likes of you and your hedge knight. Dunk had put a great deal of work into a home, a place he could call his own. He'd never had that, a home.

He never knew he needed one, not until he fell in love with you. Your dreams became his, and your dream was somewhere peaceful. Somewhere quiet, somewhere warmth could take root and bloom. A place to raise little ones. A promise your union would live for centuries to come.

Dunk still traveled far and wide across westeros, taking his squire where the people were in need. But he always had somewhere to return and someone always waiting.

And when he was home, there was no place he’d rather be.

There was a river not too far from the cottage. He and Egg frequently walked with their fishing poles, the sun barely peeking past the trees while the leaves crunched under their boots. Egg still wore his straw hat just so he wouldn’t be fiddling around with one hand on his fishing rod and the other tugging the rim upon his bald head. The sun was unkind at times, and he was a fighter.

In time, Rafe was honored with his own fishing pole and straw hat.

He left in Dunk's arms, the pole heavy against his shoulder yet his smile bright enough to make you weep. There was nothing more that could bring him joy. No toy, no hefty meal that could replace the warmth that was the time spent with his father and squire.

When Arlelle came, you'd take her in a whisker basket. You sat under the trees, sewing as your knight and your boys reeled in fish for lunch. Arlelle was a joyful babe, her eyes—blue as Dunk's—stuck on the falling leaves that adorned her basket. She reached out, a soft coo coming from her lips as she tried to take one.

"I got one!" Rafe's little voice shouted from his rock, his body springing up as he presented his fishing line to his father. At the hook a small fish wiggled. "Papa, I got one!"

"Attaboy!" Dunk laughed, the sound loud and deep as he abandoned post some feet away. He stuck his pole in the mud, his hands outstretched to look at Rafe's catch. As he marveled at his son's accomplishment, Rafe turned to look at you.

His joy was infectious, the sight making you smile while he waved to you.

"Let's get 'em off, now," Dunk pulled the fish from the hook, and he was careful with handing the slimy body to the boy. "Best show your mother."

"Mama!"

"Careful, little one," you were mindful of Arlelle, although she didn't seem too bothered. Her attention was fleeting, and she soon caught Rafe's tunic when he was close enough in front of you.

"Look," he presented the squirming creature.

"Caught it on my own, mama."

"You're just as fine as your father." You praised, "perhaps as great as Egg, someday."

The boy in question was grunting and pulling from his spot someways along the river. Dunk had gone to help him, muttering that it must've been a big one.

"For you, mama," the little boy thrusted the still-living fish towards you. You nearly slammed your head back into the tree from the sudden movement, but you saved yourself from such fate.

“Cook for supper?”

There was nothing except love in your voice. "Oh, dove.."

"By the Seven—love, look at this one!" Dunk called out to you, his breeches wet and arms curled tight around a fish as large as the expanse of his chest. “Boy, get the dagger—“

“Don’t move, ser,” Egg had pulled his knife, the blade raised above the fish’s head. Dunk tightened his hold, his body coiled before the knife struck. Slowly, the fish ceased its squirming. The boy and knight moved the fish onto leather, packing it so it was easier to take home. Dunk had a splatter of blood across his skin, but he was unharmed.

“Good catch, lad,” he congratulated his squire, a large hand coming to pat at the straw protecting his head. Egg grinned, and offered a helping hand.

Dunk stood and walked to you. He wiped the blood away, then his hands, before he bent to see Arlelle awake and babbling.

“What’re you doing, little lady?” He spoke softer, hands braced against his knees as his lips split into a smile. “Come, you ought to learn, too..”

“Dunk,” you sighed, the patch in your lap unfinished as you looked up. “She’ll grow restless.”

“She’s fine, love,” he promised, hands careful as he picked her up from the basket. “Won’t let a drop of water touch her.”

“Can I help?” Rafe asked, his catch still between his hands. “I help, papa.”

“Aye, let’s go teach your sister the ways of the pole.”

Rafe was right behind Dunk as they returned to the river. His smaller fish was dumped in the bag, and you couldn’t focus much on your sewing now, not with how the two plopped down on the grass. Rafe clung to his father’s leg as Arlelle was laid in Dunk’s lap, her upper half propped by his stomach.

“Your pole, ser,” Egg came to the three, and handed off the rod to Dunk. Then he sat down, opposite on your son. “My lady.”

Dunk rolled his eyes, “Arlelle, lad. Her name is Arlelle.”

You kept a watchful eye on the four, your motherly instincts not on board with your daughter being so close to the water. Yet the babe squealed in delight when Dunk flung his fishing pole and the hook flew into the water.

“Can you hold it, dove? Aye, I’ll help you.” His voice grew quieter, his hands gentler when he cupped his girl’s hands in his own. She wiggled around with blind excitement, her little lips pulled into a gummy smile.

Only a brief moment passed before there was a sharp tug. Rafe gasped, eyes going as wide as the plates in your cabinet when Dunk jerked back.

Egg stood back up, surveying the waters for what might’ve bitten. His finger then shot out, head whipping to look at Dunk. “Ser!”

“Auh—get your knife, boy!”

Arlelle whined as the atmosphere shifted. You came to retrieve her much to Dunk’s disappointment. But he’d sooner have you holding her than having her squished between him and the oncoming catch.

“Rafe,” you beckoned him to come to you, and the boy obeyed in an instant. You stood back with the children as Dunk wrestled. Egg was shouting at him, telling him to, “pull left!” and, “pull right, ser!”

The fish was reeled closer. Dunk got to his feet, bracing himself while Egg cheered. Its scales emerged—if only for a second—before the line snapped.

“Seven—“ Dunk stumbled, barely stopping himself before he cursed in front of you, his lady wife and your children. He grumbled quietly, taking the broken line in between his rough fingers.

“Seven fucks,” Egg cursed, more than upset the prize had been lost. His hat suddenly came off and he earned himself a swift swipe at the head.

“Watch your tongue, boy.”

Egg took back the straw hat with a huff, “apologies, ser.”

You guided Rafe back over, your steps slow to keep him paced. “I think we have more than enough, my love.”

Dunk didn’t seem to hear you at first. He was staring down at his pole, the hook lost in the river. An easy fix, he knew. Still, he thought what could’ve been, how Egg would’ve whooped and Rafe would’ve squealed. A fine catch it could’ve been.

“Love,” you sighed, letting go of Rafe’s hand to cup the other side of Dunk’s cheek. You guided him down, lips meeting his jaw. “Let’s go home. Fish still needs time to cook.”

Dunk snapped out of his thoughts. He turned, a deep sigh held in as he nodded. “Aye, it’s going to be a pain cutting up the big one.”

“Mmm-hm,” another kiss, this time on his lips. That made the disappointment soften. You were still proud, and the children were at ease. That was good enough for him.

Egg readied the leather bag, pulling with all his strength to drag it along. Dunk gathered the fishing poles and came to the boys aid.

“You did good.” The hedge knight offered.

“I didn’t catch anything, ser.”

“What is it you’re struggling to carry, then?”

“That—“ Egg looked up at him with confusion spread across his face. “You brought it to land, ser.”

“Yes, but it was your pole. Your throw,” he patted his back. “You did good.”

Egg couldn’t fight the smile those three words pulled onto his lips.

“..Thank you, ser.”

[knightofcassiopeia]

A New Companion

synopsis; early mornings with a newborn.

pairing; ser duncan the tall / reader

genre; fluff

warnings; none!

a/n; papa!dunk won, i hope you guys enjoy!

A soft coo roused you from sleep, the shuffling of a thin blanket dragging against willow louder than the crackling fire. Your head rose lazily, the daze of sleep half-blinding as the noise persisted. From beside you, you could make out your babe’s chubby arm waving about.

Dunk grumbled, his weary travels making him more than light when it came to resting. His heavy arm trapped you against the bedroll, a warm hand curled around you to keep you still.

“My love,” you whispered, speaking to he or the babe, he couldn’t tell. Not until you nudged him, “the beast is awake.”

“He’ll settle,” Dunk grunted, not willing to wake completely. Not yet, not if the moon still had the sky for itself.

“Oh, Dunk…”

He grunted again.

“Let me hold the sweet boy.”

Dunk couldn’t argue with you. Not when it came to the babe you shared. He silently obliged, moving his arm to you might turn and sit up. An eye cracked open, watching how the fire illuminated you as you reached for the babe in the whicker basket. He had yet to be named, but you had plenty of soft words to use for him. Beast, little one, little runt, chunk. All good-fitting, for now.

“Hello, little one,” you murmured, settling the babe over your chest. Careful not to jostle him, you laid back down. “You are an early riser, hmm? Yes you are..”

No matter if he tried to get more shuteye, Dunk didn’t want to miss a moment when it came to you and your child. It costed sleep, yes, it was a small price to pay. He watched you dote on the babe, and he reached out to place a hand onto his head. The child looked so massive in your arms. A mammoth. But he was a mere pea when it came to his father.

“Couldn’t wait until sunrise to take you from me,” he mumbled, his gaze filled with nothing but affection. Dunk loved you, loved his boy, and he’d spend the rest of his life ensuring you both knew it. Felt it.

The babe stirred, his coos amounting to whines. While he could be quite restless, there was only three things he ever wanted. His makeshift crib, which was the whicker basket, two pieces of pinned cloth for small clothes, and milk. Being his mother, you knew easily which of the three would be the answer.

“Easy, little runt.” Dunk kept his touch against the small head gentle. You moved more than the babe liked, one hand steady on his back as the other tugged at your shift. The whining persisted once Dunk lifted him an inch or two to help.

Finally the babe was able to latch onto your breast, his noises ceasing as he nursed. His fists curled, and Dunk watched with something kin to fascination. He was still adjusting to fatherhood, and didn't quite know how to act most of the time, but it was obvious how much he loved the little moments.

“He’s a healthy one,” he whispered, hand moving from the babe’s head to cover your own on his back. “Twice the size he ought to be.”

“He’s perfect.”

“Aye,” he smiled, still tired, still unable to pull away. “Who knew somebody like me could have a part in this..”

You tilted your head to the side, meeting him eye to eye. “You told me you wished for a child.”

“A wish, love,” he agreed, “most don’t come true.”

“Yours did.” You hummed, your free hand coming to his face. Dunk closed his eyes when your thumb rubbed at his nose, most likely ridding of the dirt. Bedroll or not, he always managed to dirty himself while asleep. “The Gods favored us, giving something so precious..”

Dunk moved his hand to cradle yours. His lips met your palm, a soft kiss meant for every word he couldn’t say. The gratitude he felt every moment you were by his side, the love he harbored far too deep in his heart. He’d spent much of his time showing you his loyalty, his unwavering trust. It never felt to be enough.

“Thank you,” he spoke into your skin. Thank you for giving me everything, and more.

Soon the child was satisfied and Dunk took him into his strong arms. He pushed up, settling back onto the tree behind your head. The babe fell into a blissful slumber in his father’s arms, unbothered by the rays of sunlight as it steadily rose.

The boy beside Dunk stirred. Egg was always an early riser, and the nights when your babe couldn’t settle so easily hadn’t changed that.

For that, you were grateful. You wouldn’t change a thing in this little life.

“Morning, Egg,” Dunk spoke to the boy as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Good morning, ser,” Egg yawned, his head turning to find you, “my lady.”

You nodded to him.

Then, he noticed the sleeping child. “Hello.”

“He’s asleep, lad,” Dunk was quieter.

“I know. It’s polite to greet him.”

“Suppose it is.”

“Someday in the near future he’ll be twice my size. I ought to be kind to stay in his favor.”

Dunk chuckled, “nonsense, he’s a babe…”

A small snort made his head turn. His brows furrowed as he caught you giggling to yourself.

“What’s—aye, tease all you want,” he looked back to Egg. “It’s proof he’s my boy.”

“Yes, ser.”

“He’s healthy.”

“No doubt, ser.”

“Quit—take your pole and catch us something.” Dunk commanded of his squire. Egg, the good child he was, got up to do as told.

“Come back with nothing and that’s a clout in the ear!” Dunk called out, “…and don’t wander too far off!”

“Love, the babe,” you lightly scolded, coming to rub soothing circles against the child’s head. His eyes were still closed, his little lip pointed out.

“Ah, sorry.” Dunk lowered his voice. “That boy..”

“Harmless teasing,” you kissed his cheek.

He sighed, “I know. Must it be so early?”

“It’s been colder. Must be affecting his moods.”

“The weather?“ Dunk didn’t believe that for a moment.

“A fire can only do so much.”

Dunk blinked, able to quickly determine where this was going. He and you had discussed it many times. Tried to, and failed, with finding proper shelter for you. He hadn’t given up, but it hadn’t been on his mind lately. Not as it should’ve been.

“I know.”

You moved away then, reaching for the wicker basket and fixing it proper. A silence fell between you, only the winds of the north blowing through your hair and his.

Dunk’s hand reached to touch your back. Then his knuckles, brushing against the fabric of your dress as he thought. He was no longer just a hedge knight. He was a father, your companion. And Gods be damned if he’d allow himself to let you slip away.

“We’ll look,” he promised, his voice becoming a soft rumble, “today and everyday until we have ourselves a home. Do you hear me?”

A hum.

“Babe’s going to grow, and he needs to be settled,” his arm wrapped around you once you returned to his side. Dunk held you close, his thumb stroking over your stomach.

“We’ll figure it out.” You agreed, sinking into him as he looked down at you. “For him.”

“For him,” he leaned in, catching your forehead in a kiss.

And for the rest of them, when they come.

[knightofcassiopeia]

when the twins came, dunk nearly fainted.

it was already nerve wracking, finding out you were pregnant once again. you’d gotten lucky with two small babes, but another? he worried. especially as the moons faded through cycle, and your stomach stretched farther than before.

dunk was proud, and he was sick with love, but he was also guilt ridden. if anything happened, if you couldn’t push through, or the child wasn’t healthy…

children. dunk should’ve known the gods wouldn’t allow nothing ordinary to grace him.

“gods be good,” he whispered, eyes going every direction with the two newborns in each of his strong arms. “gods be good, love…”

you were half dead on your martial bed. exhaustion overwhelmed you, but an eternal sleep would not take you.

dunk was a man of fried nerves, focus torn between the babes and you. even as they wailed with life, his attention couldn’t stray too long from you. he brought them to your arms, careful with the positions of their bodies before he joined you with his clumsy movements.

he curled around you, his massive frame becoming a fortress as if to shield you from the rest of the realm. his nose brushed against your ear, nuzzling with a need to merge with you.

“you’re a miracle,” he whispered, “a true miracle…”

you barely managed to turn your head, eyelids fluttering. he made the choice to press his lips to yours, giving you a gentle, warm kiss that spoke the words that refused to leave his tongue. if he tried now, he knew he’d weep.

“my miracle,” was all he could say as the cries of the twins simmered. “my beautiful miracle.”

my deepest apologies for not having papas helmet ii ready…power went out and so it was locked behind my pc. the app i use doesn’t sync to my phone so this is what i give you all. please enjoy! praise papa dunk.

[knightofcassiopeia]

it had been a complete surprise to fall pregnant for a third time;

rafe and arlelle had found their footing by now, their independence a fresh breath of air compared to the last few years. they were still little, of course, but they could do much on their own. rafe could handle pulling out a stool and scooping himself seconds at supper time. arlelle, although she still preferred you to do as such, could braid and pin her hair with her smaller hands.

it was hard for you and dunk to get used to at first, but once it all settled…

you couldn’t imagine going back.

“it’s going to be a boulder, mama,” arlelle whispered into your bump. she lay over you, craving the comfort she always sought after. your hand combed through her long hair, humming as the little kicks bumped into her cheek.

“suppose it is, if they grow any bigger…”

“was i this big?”

“oh, gods,” you laughed. “you were a titan.”

“aye, a giant compared to your brother,” dunk entered into the bedroom, holding a bowl for your waiting hands. he pressed a kiss to your temple before passing along the wooden dish into your grasp.

“it’s only natural, isn’t it?” your head tilted towards him, the exhaustion in your voice not lost on him. “the sprout is always bigger than the last...”

dunk looked just as weary, maybe more from the guilt alone. he tried to smile even if it didn't reach his eyes.

“lovelier, too,” he managed. “just as you.”

at the very least, it made you smile.

“stay,” you murmured, much to his dismay. he wanted to, gods, dunk wanted to curl up with you and your little girl for the rest of the afternoon. he knew better than to let the boys be on their own, though. sooner or later, without his presence, trouble would come.

“i can’t leave egg and rafe on their own.” he reasoned, “i have the boy on maester. if he falls…”

“egg won’t fall.”

“aye, but i wasn’t talking about egg.”

you squinted, the dawn of realization slow to register, “you—oh. oh, go. what’re you doing inside? go!”

dunk found himself chuckling as he kissed your head, even if your hand came to push his stomach. still, he didn't leave and reached to pat arlelle's back. she turned to press her other cheek onto your stomach, her eyes finding her father's back as he stalked out of the room.

it was quiet after he left, only the distant voices of egg and rafe from out where your steeds were filled the air. that was until arlelle called for you, “…mama?”

“hmm?” you were sipping on the bowl of stew he brought, the rim at your lips as you took another gulp.

“why didn’t papa make the door taller?”

because he’s not too fond of thinking, you wanted to say without second thought. he’s fond of pain.

“suppose he wasn’t thinking of himself,” you decided on, instead, “and your father isn’t a builder.”

“papa’s a knight!” she chirped.

“yes. yes, he is.”

“i want to be a knight, i think.”

oh, that made your eyebrows shoot up. “do you, now?”

“yeeeeees.”

arlelle picked herself up, crawling closer with outstretched hands. she took the bowl from you to fork a chunk of beef for herself. the child chewed slowly, mindful of herself. your hand slid to cup her chin, and you gazed upon her with adoration.

you couldn’t imagine going back to the wails of red-faced babes and sleepless nights. yet it if meant this, being there to watch them grow and thrive in the tranquility of your home, you would do it for the rest of your life.

steadily feeding my papa dunk truthers while i work on reqs…take it all

[knightofcassiopeia]

little terrors;

indulging a six-year-old girl was not what dunk ever imagined for himself.

dunk sat on the rug in front of the hearth, his back resting on the little legs that belonged to his daughter. he was careful with his weight, worried he’d crush her, but she always demanded he leaned back fully. she was odd, that one, wanting things most never asked for.

“aaaahhh, no!” she scolded for the thousandth time. “papa, be still!”

“i’m sorry,” he winced. “gods, girl—you’re going to pull my hair out.”

arlelle pouted, although he couldn’t see it. she was braiding his hair, twisting and tightening as she worked his long locks. her hands weren’t gentle like yours, and often times you had to come and pry her off to give him a rest. if it weren’t for you, he’d spend hours under her grasp.

and he’d have a lot less hair, no doubt.

dunk was a good father. a pushover, sometimes, for he was weak for his little girl. with your eyes and her sweet voice, he had yet to learn when to set his foot down with her.

even more so—she didn’t quite listen to him as well as you.

arlelle tugged his hair back, forcing him to tilt until his nose was in the air. he blinked at the ceiling, wondering what method this was. she always went on about all that you taught her, explaining in loose detail all she had to do to make him beautiful. she always asked him when she was satisfied with tending to his hair; if he believed he looked beautiful.

it always used to redden his skin, being asked such a question. now, he answered with pride.

“oh, arlelle,” thank the seven above, dunk almost groaned at the sound of your voice. “what are you doing to your father?”

“braiding, mama!” as if it was the most innocent thing in the world. dunk would’ve defended the notion, if she hadn’t taken his roots to yank. “making him feel pretty.”

dunk smiled at you as you came with the twins in your hold. they were both awake and drooling all over the sleeves that decorated your arms.

“right, she is,” he agreed, although that didn’t save him from arlelle’s fingers. she let go of the braid and ruffled his hair, seemingly deciding to start all over. his smile strained, and dunk braces himself for another onslaught of pain.

what was a man without the terror that was his daughter?

“give your father a break,” you commanded before she could take two handfuls.

“i need to braid, mama!”

“you need to go check on that thumping creature of yours. your brother might feed him on his own.”

arlelle blinked up at you—much like her father—at the mention of her rabbit. it was a needy animal that kept returning to the front door of your cottage, and arlelle always brought the little thing in with demands that it must be fed as the rest of the family.

suddenly, she scrambled off her stool and stomped to the door, careless for her father that now sat abandoned. yet his scalp stung with relief, and he pushed himself up to work the ache in his neck.

“good gods…”

“you’re not free,” you stepped closer, bringing the cooing twins to him. “they are restless.”

dunk took the pair into his strong arms, not minding the hefty weight of the babes as they settled into his lap. it was a whirlwind, having four children to care for and a squire to raise, but dunk did so without complaint. he loved his little family (little, the term was extremely loose, for you had to remind him that life wasn’t so little once arlelle was born) yet he couldn’t help himself from giving you longing looks. stares that asked for more.

“careful with how close you are,” you murmured. “they’ve discovered how fun it is to pull on hair.”

dunk flushed at that, because he’d already forgotten the pain of having little fingers pulling him around without restraint. he was too caught up on your hands, the delicacy of your touch.

“go figure,” he swallowed, looking down at the two babes. dunk shuddered as you came behind him and gathered his hair to tie back, at least enough so they couldn’t swipe at his strays. “thanks.”

you hummed, kissing the top of his head before you settled at his side. dunk kept his hold firm as they babbled and explored with their hands, grasping and pulling whatever they could reach. together, you tended to the twins with a quiet rhythm.

full fics coming later this week? mayhaps. stay tuned.

[knightofcassiopeia]

papa!dunk — late night talks;

“…would it be wrong of me to enter the lists?”

“hmm?”

“the children asked all day,” dunk’s gaze was set upon the leaves above you, his voice hushed and hands restless on your back. the tips of his fingers dug into the fabric and dragged down, gliding to soothe a spot you always complained of. “egg has been telling them stories again…no doubt some of me.”

“do you want to?” you sleepily mumbled, eyes blinking open—but it was faint. if he was too slow to answer, you’d surely fall asleep to his touch.

unfortunately, dunk’s thoughts couldn’t move any faster.

“i…i wish to try,” he answered long after your eyes closed. “it’s been years, now, and—surely i have a better chance now than before. but i worry…i don’t want to disappoint them. i’ve already disappointed myself before, and—love?”

your soft snore made him pause. he blinked at the night sky, processing you’d fallen to the abyss before he could catch you.

“aye,” dunk sighed, turning his head to kiss your head. “suppose it’s better to talk on the morrow.”

he allowed his eyes to shut, another deep sigh passing his lips as he tried to settle himself. dunk knew it wouldn't be easy getting rest, especially with his mind so active. if he could think of anything else, then—

a quiet mumble slipped by, and he found himself opening his eyes.

"mm...no," you shifted, nuzzling into his chest. "i'm listening..."

"you're half-awake."

"i'm still listening,” you yawned, “i am."

dunk huffed, yet he couldn't fight the tug of a smile pulling across his face. "can't ever win with you."

"oh, tell me something i don't know."

he chuckled before you finished, having known how you’d respond. his hand hadn't stopped massaging your back, but it came to a lingering halt as he thought a little harder. dunk was tipping between consciousness and sleep, too, even if he wouldn't acknowledge it.

"what do you think, then?" he asked, hand resuming it's movement after you grumbled. "if...if you heard what i said before, that is."

there was a moment of stillness, a moment with only the call of the forest. dunk waited, as he always did, with a sense of apprehension. his luck always came with a price.

“…i don’t like to see you hurt,” you said simply.

“aye.”

“and it’d do us no good to see our little ones disappointed.”

dunk swallowed. disappointed. of course, he’d almost forgotten the possibility of such. “aye…”

you titled your head back, managing to catch his gaze in the dark.

“perhaps another time, my love,” you decided. “let them have this first time with you.“

“their first time,” he repeated.

“i believe they’d much prefer to have you behind them at the stands.”

dunk considered your words, finding himself easing with your sense calming the storm in his head.

“thunder would go mad, seeing them so far,” he considered, and he was strangely comforted by the thought. “to leave you with them with all the townsfolk…”

he blinked. the more he allowed the idea to linger, the more his resolve became.

“i think you’re right.”

dunk stretched to kiss your temple, then your nose. your eyelids fluttered as his hand came to your shoulder, and he strained an inch to reach your lips. it caught you off guard, but you melted almost immediately into his warmth.

“sweet dreams, then?” you murmured against his lips, and he hummed. dunk pulled back to lay his head down, his arm tightening some.

“sweet dreams, dove.”

take my papa dunk crumbs

ps ARI IF U SEE THIS im cooking some dunkreaderling hcs for u…

[knightofcassiopeia]

Papa’s Helmet I

Your knight shook his head, trying to keep his focus on Rafe or else he’d forget about everything but you and your laugh.

From the moment Rafe could crawl, he’d become an absolute terror.

The toddler was a handful for the likes of you and Dunk. Often times he seemed to enjoy being so defiant. Dunk swore he must’ve been a deaf child with how he acted—but neither of you could ever stay dwelling in frustration and exhaustion. The babe was too cute for his own good, too happy to keep you and Dunk on edge.

His laugh was loud and electrifying. His smile was always wide, and his eyes crinkled just like his father’s.

You wouldn’t change a thing about your little boy.

“Where have you gone, little beast?”

You’d turned your back for a minute, hands full with fresh linens and a need to tidy up. Rafe had been left onto the floor with his blanket, as you trusted him not to wander. Besides he made too much noise and was clingy enough not to leave you this way. Or so you thought.

One moment your babe was on the floor, thrashing his blanket around and dampening the fabric with his drool. The next..

A clatter took you by surprise. You abandoned your station in a hurry, his blanket left on the floor and your gaze filled with worry. Nothing could happen, you’d told yourself plenty of times. Not unless Dunk left a knife out, or you gave Rafe a piece of bread to gum through. Both of which had happened, and both of which had left you and Dunk frazzled.

You were entirely new to this. Harmless could easily turn to disaster.

“Come now,” you spoke softly, hoping to coax him from where he’d gone. “Show yourself to mama…”

“Oi!”

The shout made you yelp. It had come from outside, and you knew without question it was your husband. He’d gone to gather firewood, perhaps polish and sharpen his weapons and…ah, of course he left the door open.

Picking up your skirts, you crossed out into the open. The cottage was surrounded by trees, secluded from the rest of Westeros and its cruelty. In this little place you called home, nothing evil would dare come close.

Ahead, Dunk stood with his back facing you, his fists planted at the hip and looming. You shuffled over, eyes already blown wide and heart pounding at the sight before you. Shamelessly your babe squealed against Dunk’s helm, gums bitting at the steel.

“Let go of that,” Dunk reached down, picking up Rafe with ease. “Since when did you learn to open doors?”

The sincereity of his words made you giggle.

“He’s learning fast.” Your knight shook his head, trying to keep his focus on Rafe or else he’d forget about everything but you and your laugh. “Soon enough I won’t be able to keep up…aye, you like that, don’t you? Terrorizing your old man…”

“My love,” your hands slipped around his arm. “You left the door open.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“As much of a fool I can be—“

You squeezed his arm. “Why would I open the door?”

“Because…” Dunk shut his mouth, his gaze falling back onto the babe in his arms. It was easy to make him blush, and you can see the redness creeping up from his neck onto his cheeks already. “…Nevermind that.”

You hummed, tugging on his arm until he leaned closer. Rafe reached out, a small whine slipping from him as he watched you kiss his father’s jaw. But you didn’t leave him neglected, and your lips sought his chubby cheek to blow raspberries into.

A fit of laughter pulled past his mouth, his body squirming in Dunk’s hold with delight. He sounded just like him, and Dunk couldn’t be anymore proud.

When you ceased your assault, Rafe took your face to keep you close. His eyes found his father’s, but he kept you right between his hands.

“Best get him back inside,” you suggested not long after, nose nudging against the babe’s own.

“I’m almost finished.” Dunk replied, fingertips rubbing at Rafe’s back. He was spoiled. There was no way around it. Dunk knew if it was possible, the two of you would do nothing but dote on him until he sprouted. Even then—he couldn’t quite imagine his boy all grown.

Too soon. Far too soon to think as such.

“He’s good company.” He chuckled. “When you’re not around, that is.”

“Is he?” You played along, eyes glued to the smiling babe. “Well, suppose it leaves me with less to worry over…”

“Aye.”

Reluctantly, you let go of Rafe and pressed one last kiss to Dunk’s jaw. “You’ll scream if he—?”

“I can handle him, dove,” Dunk snorted, the low rumble enough to keep you rooted at his side. “Could teach him how to carve now, least it’ll keep his attention.”

“No,” you groaned to his amusement. “Stop that.”

Releasing Dunk next, your hand came to whack his backside. It wasn’t harsh, more gentle than aggressive. But that didn’t stop him from flinching, nor his immediate reaction to spank you with enough force to have you stumbling towards the door.

“Oh, Dunk!”

Dunk felt the rush of blood divide both ways, flowing to the tips of his ears and down to his groin. Embarrassment and something else he’d rather not name.

“You did so first!” He called out, beet red and grinning. Dunk turned back to Rafe, who was slobbering all over his bicep.

With a sigh, he muttered, “let’s get you settled, little runt.”

He was careful with putting Rafe back onto the ground. Without hesitation the child began to move, his hands latching onto his helm once more to bring back to his mouth.

Despite knowing it was best not to allow a child to try and eat steel, Dunk left him be. As long as his boy was happy and under his watchful gaze, he knew all would be well.