Been feeling uninspired lately. Went through my ideas folder. Found this gem. Wheezed.
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curvy/chubby! reader x Aragorn
Warnings: fem/afab reader, a little smut teehee
no cuz imagine curvy/chubby! Reader is arranged to marry Aragorn to make an alliance between both royal family’s, and he sees you and IMMEDIATELY his eyes dip down to your thighs and hips. You two got along great, there were close to no problems with your marriage! Except, well, the citizens didn’t quite like the thought of him marrying someone who had curves, instead of someone skinny. He told you not to pay any mind to them, because they didn’t know what they were talking about. I mean, damn, that man worships you!!
Like, you can’t tell me he isn’t into the idea of breeding. He practically begs you to give him an heir! <3 everytime he sees you sprawled out on your shared bed, with nothing on.. it does things to him. And my god is that man into some dirty talk. Usually it’s something along the lines of “taking me so well, my love.” “Yeah? You’re going to give me an heir? Gunna let me fill you up?” RAHHH but can you blame him?? You’re perfectly built to be a mother, he’s not gunna let that chance slip away!! <3
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Don't Go Where I Can't Follow
Notes: I finally watched The Bad Batch and I'm ready to write about the batchers into oblivion. Another one for Wrecker, my beloved, because he's actually the loml.
Characters: Wrecker x Reader
Warnings: hurt/comfort, mention of blood/injuries/fever but nothing explicit
The life of a clone is the life of a soldier. It's full of violence and blood and death, and there's not much hope. That's why he tries so hard. He does his best to make his brothers laugh, to be lighthearted and ridiculous because where else will they find a glimmer of happiness in this mess of a war?
Wrecker's eyes flicker over your face again for probably the hundredth time this past minute. Your chest is rising and falling in short, shallow breaths even though you're asleep. Your brow is furrowed, your mouth slightly parted, and it's not right. Because you're like him, you're his glimmer of light in the darkness, the person who makes him laugh the most, makes his heart beat double time, and now you're sick and there's nothing he can do.
You moan softly in your sleep and his brain flashes back to the moment you collapsed into Echo's arms two days ago, how washed out your skin looked, the unnatural heat radiating from your body, the glazed over look in your eyes. He closes his eyes against the memory, but it persists. He can still feel his stomach dropping as he recalls Tech peeling back your bloody shirt and inspecting your now infected blaster wound. He can still feel the panic filling his lungs, can still feel the irrational anger threatening to engulf him until there's nothing left but the smoldering remains of his heart. He could go back to the battlefield and tear those droids apart all over again, he could fly himself back to Ord Mantell and ask Cid why the hell she hadn't payed them enough to get the medical equipment you needed, why she sent them on that mission in the first place, why she'd put you in danger like that, why he let himself put you in danger like that, but... Wrecker knew, in the end, it wasn't really anybody's fault.
He reaches into the bucket of cool water by his feet and wrings out one of the strips of fabric before gently placing it on your forehead like Tech had instructed. He's never been quite so grateful for his brother's know-it-all-ness like he is now. If you make it out of this- no, when you make it out of this, he's going to hug Tech so hard, he'll never tell him to shut up ever again, never complain about all his rants and ramblings.
And Wrecker is so lost in his thoughts of desperate what-ifs and maybes that he entirely misses the moment when your eyes flutter open. Until you moan again, soft and hoarse and pained, and he realizes you're awake and Maker, he could cry.
"Hey," you croak.
"You're awake." He's smiling, laughing, and yes, he's crying too. He leans in and scoops you up in his arms like a man half starved in the midst of a banquet. "I-I thought I'd lost ya. Thought you were gonna be sick forever! I didn't know what t' do, I-"
"Wrecker!" Your tone makes him freeze and he tilts his head up to look at you properly. "Squeezing too tight," you frown.
Of course he is. He sighs, nods, and sets you back down on the cot (his cot) as gently as he can. You've been awake for five seconds and he's already squishing you half to death like the brute he is. Stupid.
"'m sorry," he mumbles as his eyes attempt to fixate on anything but you.
Your hand on his cheek is enough to ground him, although he still can't quite manage to look at you. But he leans into your touch, memorizes it so he can carry this feeling with him wherever he goes. In this moment, there's no war, no Empire, they're not on the run, there's just you and him together. The way it should always be.
"Hey," you say again, softer than before. Dare he hope you even sound tender? "Wreck. I'm okay."
He closes his eyes in an attempt to hide his tears. "But you weren't. We were so far from the ship and we didn't have any bacta left. I had t' carry you all the way back." It was the longest walk of his life. "Tech... I dunno what he did, but he fixed you up real good. Never thought I'd care about all the stuff he knows, but I think he saved you." The tears seep out along his waterline anyway. His voice cracks. "Didn't want ya t' go where I couldn't follow."
He feels your thumb brush over the swell of his cheek. It's a solid reminder that you're alive, but it doesn't fully chase away the paranoia that's been eating away at him the last couple days.
You take in a shaky breath and he allows himself to swallow his pride and look at you. What does it matter if you see him cry, anyway? Surely you already know he loves you?
Your smile is weak, but it dazzles him all the same. "Could never leave you."
When Tech comes in to check on your fever, he sees you asleep on your back, one arm looped loosely around Wrecker's neck while Wrecker snores lightly into your stomach. The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile. He's sure that one day the two of you will verbalize your feelings for one another, assuming you haven't already. He quickly scans your temperature and, satisfied that it's gone down considerably, makes for the cockpit again.
Yes, he muses, one day.
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