#where she could let down her guard and just feel at peace

[cinaminrolll]

me @ johanna mason

[astrcmoni]

⊹₊ ⋆ loved by you⋆ ₊⊹

MASTERLIST

synopsis: you come home after a long day out and noticed that your girlfriend seems a little stiff and frustrated, you take it upon yourself to bring her to relaxation…amongst other things.

genre: smut, fluff.

pairing: fem!reader x billie eilish

wc: 6.7k

warnings: cussing, reader!has some tattoos, belly piercing, and acrylics, soft top!reader & soft bottom!billie, fingering (billie receiving), scissoring, talk of cum, finger sucking, tender aftercare.

authors note: y’all i love me some tender aftercare, but let me know what you guys think, it’s my first time writing smut so i hope you enjoy💋

you wrap your fingers around the cool brass of the doorknob, pushing the door open with a gentle shove. bags in hand, you step inside, carrying the weight of a day spent pouring into yourself—a quiet symphony of self-love and solitude. the faint scent of vanilla and cashmere clings to your skin, trailing behind you like a whispered promise of peace. it mingles with the air as you move through the house, slipping off your shoes and setting your belongings carefully aside. a soft hum of satisfaction radiates from your chest, a quiet melody to the much-needed reset you’ve granted yourself.

the house greets you in half-light, bathed in the golden glow of scattered lamps that cast long shadows on the walls. it feels still—almost serene—until your eyes fall on billie, slouched on the couch like a storm waiting to break. her hoodie is tugged halfway over her head, dark fabric cloaking her features, while her fingers dig into her hair as if trying to pull thoughts free. her jaw is clenched, the sharp line of it catching the light, and her knee bounces in a restless rhythm, a tell of untamed energy searching for release.

the soft shuffle of your steps makes her glance up, her stormy gaze meeting yours. for a fleeting moment, the tension in her eyes eases, her guarded walls thinning as if your presence alone could calm the tempest. but just as quickly as it appears, the warmth fades. she exhales sharply, her lips pressed into a tight line, and turns her face away, retreating from the silent comfort you might offer.

“hey,” you call out softly, your voice a gentle ripple in the charged air. concern blooms in your chest, delicate but insistent, as you step further into her storm. “what’s going on?”

she glances up at you, her blue eyes clouded, the usual spark buried beneath layers of frustration and exhaustion. “nothing. it’s fine.” her words are clipped, brittle, a poor disguise for the weight pressing down on her. the sharpness in her tone, the tight set of her jaw, and the rigid line of her shoulders betray her. she’s unraveling, spiraling into the chaos of a day that’s clearly been too much.

you don’t press her. instead, you step quietly into her space, lowering yourself onto the couch beside her. the silence between you is thick but not unwelcome, a moment to let her gather herself. your hand moves instinctively, resting gently on her bouncing knee. the motion is small but deliberate, your thumb brushing slow, steady circles against her skin. her leg stills under your touch, but she doesn’t turn to look at you. her gaze remains fixed ahead, lost somewhere you can’t follow.

“billie,” you murmur, your voice soft and even, like a thread pulling her back to the present. “i need you to breathe.”

at first, she resists, the huff she lets out carrying a faint edge of defiance. but you don’t push. you stay where you are, leaning just close enough for her to feel the quiet, grounding weight of your presence. slowly, like the tide retreating, her breathing begins to shift. the jagged edges smooth out, each inhale and exhale growing steadier, softer. her shoulders, once drawn tight as a bowstring, begin to ease, the tension melting away bit by bit.

you don’t say anything else. you just stay there, your touch and the unspoken comfort you offer doing all the speaking for you.

once she’s calmer, you reach for her hand, the rough, calloused texture of her fingers grounding against the softness of your own. there’s something soothing in the contrast, a silent exchange of warmth and reassurance. you guide her toward your shared room with unhurried steps, the quiet between you filled only by the soft rustle of fabric and the faint rhythm of your breaths.

once inside, you ease her out of her hoodie, the heavy material slipping from her frame to reveal the tautness still lingering in her posture. replacing it with something softer, you move with care, your fingers brushing her skin in fleeting touches, each one meant to chip away at the tension clinging to her. her guard remains up, her body stiff under your hands, but you’re patient.

she sinks onto the bed with a quiet exhale, her movements deliberate and slow. sitting there, she looks up at you, her brown brows drawn together in confusion. the crease between them feels out of place on her face, a mark of the weight she carries, and that’s exactly where you begin.

your right thumb presses gently to the space between her brows, brushing slow circles there. “relax, baby,” you murmur, minding the delicate edge of your french tips as your left hand cups the side of her neck, your palm warm against her skin. her eyes flutter shut, and her brow smooths under your touch, the tension there melting as if coaxed away by your presence.

“you’re always frowning lately,” you whisper, your voice soft, a tender tease woven into your words. the corner of your lips lifts into a light laugh as your thumbs shift, tracing the sides of her temples with gentle precision. her sigh is barely audible, but it reaches you, a sign of the weight beginning to lift.

she lets her head fall forward, resting against the soft curve of your belly, her face buried in the quiet comfort you offer. your hands slide lower, fingertips grazing the base of her neck, exploring the edges of her tension with care. then, almost instinctively, your nails trace the faint, abstract lines of the tattoo peeking out from beneath her shirt. the designs feel alive beneath your touch, and though her body remains still, the small shift of her breathing tells you she’s beginning to let go.

her hands slide to your sides with unspoken intent, her fingers squeezing your skin gently, as if grounding herself in the moment. a soft moan escapes her lips when your fingers find the knot tucked beneath her skin, your touch firm but deliberate as you knead the tension away. her breath hitches, her body subtly leaning further into you.

"that feel better?" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, warm and intimate. she nods slowly, her hair brushing against your shirt with each movement, leaving strands untamed and wild. her lips find your stomach in soft, fleeting kisses-her quiet way of saying thank you without words.

your hands find their way to her cheeks, cradling her face as you gently lift her head so her gaze meets yours once again. her eyelids are heavy, lashes fluttering as her hazy eyes lock onto you. her lips, slightly parted, curve into a small, sleepy smile that sends warmth cascading through you. a faint blush dusts her cheeks, soft pink against the cool tones of her skin, as her gaze turns warm and pleading—a silent invitation, a wordless request for more.

your thumbs move instinctively, stroking slow, rhythmic patterns along the base of her throat and the sides of her neck. her skin feels warm under your touch, and you savor the quiet hum she releases, a low sound of surrender. with another soft moan, she reaches for you, her hands finding their place at the back of your neck as she pulls you closer.

her lips meet yours in a tender collision, slightly chapped but desperate, the press of them catching you off guard enough to draw a quiet gasp from your own. the kiss deepens, her lips enveloping yours with a neediness that feels almost fragile. her tongue swipes along the curve of your lower lip, tasting the sticky sweetness of your gloss. a faint but familiar flavor of honey and vanilla lingers, and she lets out a contented sigh as the taste floods her senses. it's intoxicating—her favorite indulgence—and in typical fashion, she chases it, unable to get enough of you.

breaking the kiss, you pulled back slightly, both of you breathing heavily as you tried to catch your breath. a delicate string of mixed saliva lingered between your lips, glistening in the low light like an invisible thread, refusing to sever the connection between you. still slightly hunched over her, you gently guided her onto her back, her body sinking into the bed as you crawled over her, the soft weight of your presence making her exhale deeply.

you leaned down, pressing light, lingering kisses along the curve of her cheek, trailing them down to the delicate slope of her collarbone. the gold chain of your necklace swayed with your movements, the small diamond 'B' charm—her initial—dancing above her skin, catching the faint light in its tiny movements.

her hands reached up instinctively, fingers curling around your necklace as though grounding herself in its presence. the cool metal of her own chains slid across her collarbones, clinking softly as they shifted to the side. her grip tugged you closer, and she kissed you again—deeper, slower this time, the desperation tempered by a quiet intimacy.

she was the one to break the kiss this time, her lips parting from yours as she dipped her head into the curve of your neck. her kisses were deliberate but messy, open-mouthed and soft, scattering heat along your skin. your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, delight unfurling in your chest.

but when her lips lingered too long, you gently cupped her jaw, easing her away from your neck with soft insistence. her gaze found yours, her spent, half-lidded eyes searching yours for clarity, a flicker of confusion flashing across her features. you silenced her silent question with a kiss—light and tender, a reassurance of your closeness. her shoulders relaxed beneath you as she melted further into the moment, trusting your pace completely.

"let me take care of you for once," you whisper, your voice a quiet blend of confidence and tenderness. she doesn't argue. instead, she sinks further into the bed, letting her body surrender to your featherlight kisses and gentle caresses, her breaths coming slow and steady beneath your touch.

you start at her stomach, planting soft kisses along her skin, your lips brushing over the smooth, warm surface as you slowly lift her shirt. the fabric gathers in your hands, revealing more of her as you work your way upward, your mouth leaving a trail of heat along her abdomen and up to her chest.

her hands find their way to you, slipping beneath your own shirt. the chill of her rings grazes your skin, stark against your warmth, sending shivers coursing down your spine. her fingers move deliberately, seeking out the band of your bra. when she finds it, she tugs on the strap with a low whine, her silent plea clear in the way she pulls, urging you to shed another layer.

you pause, meeting her gaze for a moment before sitting up to grant her request. your movements are slow, deliberate, as you pull your shirt over your head, letting the soft fabric fall to the side. you're left in your black bra, its cups dusted with subtle, shimmering gems that catch the faint light like tiny stars. the diamond—encrusted clasp at the front glints as it rests against your sternum, adding an almost regal touch to the simplicity of your look.

your golden necklace settles against your chest, the 'B' charm now still against your skin, a quiet symbol of the intimacy you share. the faint contrast between your bra and the black sweatpants you still wear from earlier makes you feel both casual and vulnerable, a quiet kind of beauty that seems to captivate her. her eyes trace over you with a mix of admiration and hunger, and though her lips remain parted in silence, her body speaks volumes in the way her hands move instinctively to pull you closer again.

her eyes flickered to the fresh ink adorning your right side, the design still vivid against your skin. curiosity flashed across her features, but before she could fully register the image, your lips were back on her stomach, trailing heat along her sternum. your fingers moved deftly, slipping up to cup her right breast through the fabric of her bra, your touch firm yet deliberate. the faint graze of your belly ring against hers drew a sharp intake of breath from her, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating between you.

her hands returned to your sides, her grip tightening as her fingers sank into your skin, eliciting a slight furrow of your brows at the intensity, still, you didn't pause. instead, your hands moved to the hem of her shirt, easing it up and over her head, the fabric sliding away to reveal her bare shoulders. her hair spilled messily onto the pillow beneath her as your fingers worked quickly at the clasp of her bra, the tension snapping free with a practiced ease.

with the last barrier gone, you leaned back into her, your lips finding hers in a kiss that was slower this time, more deliberate. her hand slid up to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, her fingers tugging just enough to send a pleasant shiver down your spine. her other hand rested on your hip, pulling you closer as though the space between you was unbearable.

your knees pressed into the bedding for balance, the soft mattress sinking under your weight as you tried not to topple onto her completely. the thought of it—of gracelessly falling and squishing her-flashed through your mind, and an involuntary giggle slipped past your lips. the sound broke the moment just enough to lighten the air, the vibration of your laugh brushing against her lips.

the corner of her mouth quirked up in response, and a faint moan escaped her, the sound low and rough as if pulled from the deepest part of her. her hands tightened their grip on you, her body arching slightly, and you could feel the soft hum of amusement mixing with the heat between you. it was intimate, raw, and completely her—a moment where even the smallest things felt like a quiet kind of magic.

you refocus, your gaze drifting to her chest before leaning down to press slow, open-mouthed kisses around her left areola. the heat of your breath lingers on her skin, and her body reacts with a subtle arch beneath you. finally, your lips close around her nipple, your tongue swirling in slow, deliberate circles over the pink bud. her taste is faintly salty, her skin warm as it yields under your mouth.

your free hand moves to her right breast, fingers molding over the soft curve as you begin to gently roll her other nipple between your fingertips. the contrast of sensations—the warmth of your mouth and the coolness of your touch—draws a shaky sigh from her lips.

"mm-fuck," she breathes, her voice low and rough as her head falls back against the pillow. her neck stretches, exposing the delicate line of her throat, her body surrendering fully beneath you. the sound of her voice sends a rush of warmth through you, and you can't help but smile against her skin.

you switch sides, your lips finding her other nipple as you repeat your actions, tongue flicking and swirling with the same deliberate care. the soft, wet sounds of your movements fill the quiet, her breath hitching with each flick of your tongue.

when you finally let go, it's with a light, teasing pop, the faint suction leaving her skin glistening. your lips curve into a smile as you glance up at her, her chest heaving with each shallow breath, her lashes fluttering as she blinks hazily down at you. there's something intoxicating about seeing her like this— completely undone, her vulnerability offered to you with quiet trust.

lifting yourself up slightly, you shift your focus lower, your lips trailing a delicate path back down her stomach. your fingertips follow close behind, the tips of your nails ghosting over her skin as they trace lazy figure eights along her abdomen. her muscles tense and quiver under your touch, a subtle but telling reaction to the sensations you're leaving in your wake.

as you reach the waistband of her grey sweatpants, your hands settle on either side of her hips. your thumbs begin to draw slow, teasing circles on her pelvic bones, the pressure just light enough to make her body squirm. her breath hitches, and the quiet desperation in her movements only draws a soft smile from your lips.

"please," she whispers, the word so faint it's almost lost in the shallow rise and fall of her chest. but you catch it—her voice trembling with raw need, vulnerability spilling out in that single syllable.

"hm?" you hum softly, your tone low and teasing as your eyes flick upward to meet hers. your eyebrows arch in playful curiosity, your movements never faltering as your thumbs continue their lazy strokes. her blue eyes lock onto yours, heavy-lidded and pleading, the kind of gaze that could bring you to your knees if you weren't already so close.

you tilt your head slightly, your lips curling into a faint smirk as if to say, you're going to have to say that again. her chest rises sharply, her mouth opening, but no words come out-just another shaky exhale as her hands clutch the bedding beneath her. the tension in the air between you feels electric, her silent plea only making you take your time, savoring every second of her unraveling.

"please, please. i-i need you," she stammers, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush, her usual confidence completely stripped away. the rawness in her voice stirs something deep inside you, a thrill at the vulnerability she's offering. her cheeks are flushed, the soft pink hue spreading across her skin, and her eyes are wide, pupils blown with need, the blue of her irises almost swallowed by the intensity of her desire.

you know your teasing is torture for her, and the thought only excites you more. her body reacts instinctively, hips arching up into yours in a desperate attempt to create some friction. but you're prepared for it. without missing a beat, your palm moves to her hip bone, pushing her gently but firmly back down onto the bed, holding her in place. the contrast of her warm skin against your hand sends a thrill through you, the subtle pressure making her whimper beneath you.

her breath quickens, and for a moment, the air between you is thick with tension. she looks up at you, eyes heavy and pleading, her chest heaving with each shallow breath. you can see the fight in her—the way her body yearns for more, yet she remains completely at your mercy. And, for the moment, you intend to savor every second of it.

“my baby wants me here?” you taunt as you cup her cunt, rubbing her slightly through the material of her sweatpants.

“yes, please..." she breathes out with need, her voice trembling, chest rising and falling erratically under your touch. the sound of her desperation echoes in your ears, and it stirs something deep within you.

you can feel the intensity building between you, and as much as you've enjoyed the teasing, you decide it's time to stop. with a slow, deliberate motion, you untie the string of her sweatpants, fingers brushing the soft fabric as you slide them down her plush thighs, savoring the curve of her skin under your touch.

not bothering to remove her panties entirely, you simply shift them to the side, your fingers grazing over the delicate lace as you expose her. the soft warmth of her sex meets the cool air, a delicate shiver running through her body at the sudden change. she lets out a sharp gasp, her back arching slightly as the coolness of the air kisses her skin, her body reacting instantly to the touch.

"look at that," you coo softly, your voice a low hum of satisfaction as you slide your left middle finger down her slit, coating it with her essence. the warmth and wetness of her response leaves you feeling a rush of anticipation, each movement slow and deliberate, savoring every second.

"oh-god," she breathes, sucking in a sharp breath as her eyes flutter, hazy with desire. she watches you through half-lidded eyes, her gaze fixed on your every movement, her chest rising and falling with shallow, erratic breaths. the sight of you biting your lip, the concentration in your expression, seems to send a shiver down her spine.

your finger moves languidly, tracing her slit with unhurried precision, the subtle pressure and teasing rhythm making her hips twitch slightly in response. each brush against her sensitive skin is calculated, drawing out her reactions, leaving her a little more undone with every passing second.

"my baby's so wet for me." you whisper, your voice thick with desire. she nods in agreement, her breath shallow and quick.

"yes, so wet just for you. my god, please," she pleads, the words slipping from her lips with a sense of urgency.

and you obliged, slowly entering your index into her, being mindful to not poke her. you take a slow, deliberate moment, allowing her to adjust to your touch. the atmosphere between you crackles with tension as you fingered her while your thumb rubbed against her clit simultaneously. every movement measured, every breath shared. your fingers trace a gentle path, mindful and careful, as you draw closer to the feeling of complete connection.

"mmm-you're so sensitive, my love," you whisper softly, the words leaving your lips like a caress, your voice thick with satisfaction. her hands find their way back into the roots of your hair, fingers threading through the strands, pulling you closer as her grip tightens, a silent plea for more.

you quicken your movements in response, white rings of her cum forming around your fingers as you continue. your fingers pressing into her with a steadier rhythm, each stroke drawing a louder gasp from her lips. her breath comes in shallow, uneven bursts, her voice a tangled mess of words and moans, a symphony of pleasure that mixes with the desperation in her tone. each sound she makes only drives you further, urging you to keep going, to bring her closer to the edge.

bucking her hips into your fingers, she lets out a soft whine, the sound trembling in the air as your movements begin to slow, the shift in rhythm intensifying her frustration. her body is aching, needy, and she craves more, her fingers still tangled in your hair as she pulls you closer, urging you to keep going.

"please, don't stop—please," she pleads, her voice breaking with desperation, the words escaping in a breathless rush. her eyes are wide and pleading, filled with a raw vulnerability that pulls at something deep inside you. she's unraveling beneath your touch, and she can't seem to hold herself together any longer.

"i'm not, baby, just wait," you console, your voice gentle but firm as you slowly withdraw your fingers from her.

she watches you with spent eyes, her chest rising and falling unevenly, her lips parted as she tries to catch her breath. you take a moment to untie the string of your sweatpants, the fabric slipping down your hips as you shimmy them off, leaving yourself in nothing but a pair of black panties. the movement gives her a better view of your new tattoo, a pair of delicate hummingbirds perched around a cherry blossom tree. the ink swirls across your skin, the rest disappearing into your back in an intricate design.

her fingers reach for the fresh ink, the cool touch of her rings against your skin sending a soft shiver through you. you gasp quietly as she traces the delicate lines of your tattoo, her touch both tender and reverent.

"pretty." she whispers, the word slipping from her lips like a quiet reverence, her gaze lingering on the fresh ink as if she were memorizing every detail.

you lean down to kiss her once more, her lips swollen and red, still slightly parted from the intensity of your previous kisses. the taste of her lingers on your tongue as you move, savoring the way her breath catches against your lips.

your fingers move with purpose, slipping under the waistband of her panties, the fabric soft against your fingertips as you slowly slide them off, exposing her to you fully. you do the same for yourself, sliding your own panties down, the fabric brushing against your skin before they're discarded onto the floor.

with a slow, deliberate movement, you align yourself with her, your body hovering just above hers, a breath away from the contact both of you are craving. the air between you is thick with anticipation, your heart pounding in your chest as you pause, just for a moment, to savor the closeness.

both of you breathed out a moan as you rubbed your pussy against hers, her cum sliding on your skin while you grinded on her slowly.

her hands rest on your waist, fingers digging lightly into your back as her hips buck up to meet yours, the throbbing pressure between you intensifying, desperate for more friction. the heat between your bodies is palpable, and her urgency makes your pulse race.

reaching down, your fingers gently grip the side of her neck, your thumb brushing lightly back and forth over her lip. she opens her mouth, eager, and latches onto your thumb, her movements slow at first, then gradually faster, bobbing her head up and down as she tastes you. her tongue swirls around your skin, the roughness of it contrasting sharply with the smooth glide of your acrylic nails, sending a shiver through you.

she lets go with a soft plop, her lips lingering against your thumb before it returns to rest against her lip, her eyes heavy with desire, a silent invitation for more.

you grazed your finger over her pink lips, the softness of her skin a stark contrast to the heat of the moment, before you gently turned her head to the right. the body mirror on the wall caught your eye, framed in sleek black, reflecting every intimate detail. you could see everything—the way her body reacted to your touch, the slight tremble in her breath, the hunger in her eyes.

"fuck—look at my pretty baby. you're so beautiful when you're not overthinking," you murmur, brushing your thumb tenderly over her jaw, your voice thick with admiration and desire.

sure, you'd fucked in front of mirrors before, the reflections always a part of the experience, but this time it was different. this time, she was beneath you, her body writhing with pleasure, and you couldn't help but drink in the sight of her. every movement, every subtle shift of her body, only made you love her more. you were lost in the moment, savoring every second of this connection, this intimacy, this power dynamic.

billie watched the both of you in the mirror, her hands resting on your thighs, both of your tattoos visible as you moved over her. your belly piercing swayed with each movement, the delicate clink of your bracelet, necklace, and anklets adding a soft rhythm to the moment. the sight of you above her, being so tender, so focused on her, was enough for billie to release the tension she'd been holding.

“ma, i’m gonna—” she hiccuped out as she orgasmed, her cum hot and warm as she released her built up pressure.

"i know, baby, i know." you coo softly, your voice low and soothing, as your hands find hers. the cool band of your promise ring clinks gently against her own, a quiet reminder of the bond between you. you keep your rhythm steady, guiding her through the waves of her release, feeling her pulse beneath your touch as you hover on the edge of your own. the tension in your body builds, the electric connection between you both drawing closer to its peak.

your movements come to a slow halt as you lean down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her head, before trailing light, almost reverent kisses along her flushed cheek. with a contented sigh, billie collapses fully into the sheets, her body surrendering to the moment as her eyes flutter closed, savoring the warmth of your presence, the lingering touch of you on her skin.

as billie's breathing evens out, soft and steady, you gently shift your weight, easing off of her. her hands fall limp at her sides, the faint tremor of the moment still lingering in her fingers. you take one of her hands in yours, brushing your lips softly over her palm, savoring the quiet intimacy between you. her eyes slowly flutter open, the exhaustion from her release softening her features. a slow, sleepy smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she gazes up at you, her expression a mix of peace and satisfaction, as if the world beyond the two of you has faded into a distant hum.

“don’t move,” you murmur, your voice soft but firm. she nods, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion as she watches you, too tired to protest. you lean over, gently tucking a blanket from behind her over her body, picking up her oversized t-shirt from earlier and tugging it onto your body—leaving her bare beneath the cool blanket, before slipping into the connecting bathroom.

the bathroom is dimly lit, the soft glow of the overhead light casting a calming ambiance as you move with quiet intention. you plug the bath drain, the gentle sound of water beginning to fill the basin, creating a peaceful rhythm in the otherwise still air.

reaching under the sink, your fingers brushed against the cool glass bottle of lavender epsom salt. with a soft sigh, you unscrew the cap and sprinkle it generously into the tub, watching as the grains dissolve, leaving a faint shimmer in the water, releasing their calming scent.

you then grab a handful of delicate lavender flower petals, their purple hue soft and delicate, letting them slip from your fingers as you scatter them over the surface of the water, the soft fragrance mixing with the warm steam in the air. next, you reach for a bottle of soap, squeezing a generous amount into the growing pool, and watch as the water turns a soft, inviting shade of milky white. you swirl your hand in the water, stirring it gently, creating soft bubbles that float lazily to the surface, the scent of lavender and vanilla hanging in the air, blending perfectly with the warmth that’s beginning to envelope the room.

reaching into a drawer, your fingers graze the familiar coolness of the lighter, the flickering flame catching the night’s stillness. you carefully light a few candles, setting them on the smooth, black marble base of the bathtub. their gentle glow dances in the dim room, casting soft shadows that seem to whisper secrets. the warm scent of vanilla rises in the air, mingling with the calming lavender, creating a quiet, tranquil atmosphere. with a contented breath, you turn back towards the door, ready to return to her.

when you return to the bedroom, she’s just where you left her—curled beneath the sheets, the rhythm of her breathing slow and steady, a soft lullaby that pulls at your heart. “billie…” you murmur, your voice a tender thread that weaves through the silence. your fingertips trace shapes across her cheek, the touch delicate, coaxing her from the realm of dreams.

“hmm?” her voice is soft, dreamy, as if the weight of sleep lingers in her words.

“come on, love, time to get cleaned up,” you whisper, your eyes finding hers. her blue gaze flickers open, the haze of sleep softening into a warm, sleepy smile at the sight of you. she meets your eyes with a quiet, trusting warmth, her features bathed in the soft glow of the candles.

she hums, barely audible, “okay,” her voice a sigh of surrender, her body pliant as you gently guide her up. there’s no resistance, only a quiet trust as you lead her towards the bathroom, her steps slow and uncertain, but still, she follows. the warmth you’ve prepared beckons, and she lets you carry her there, one step at a time, beneath the soft weight of the night.

“you didn’t have to do all this,” she whispers, her voice soft and hoarse, a trace of vulnerability lacing her words as you gently sit her in the tub, the warmth of the water surrounding her like a soft embrace.

you smile, the touch of your thumb against her cheek tender, as if trying to soothe away every ounce of weariness. “yes, i did. you deserve it,” you murmur, your words a quiet promise. reaching for a black hair tie, you gather her hair into a loose bun, fingers brushing the strands with care. you press a gentle kiss to her forehead before you step away.

you move quickly, the rhythm of the evening pulling you in its quiet flow. downstairs, you wash your hands, then start the water for pasta, the soft hiss of it filling the silence. you make your way to the linen closet, pulling out fresh sheets and a soft comforter, the fabric cool against your fingers. replacing the old with the new, the bed now seems like an invitation, waiting.

you dig through your drawers, gathering pajamas for both of you, and return to the bathroom, where she sits waiting for you. her eyes follow your movements, a small smile curving her lips as you shed your shirt, your skin exposed to the dim light. she shifts, making room for you behind her, her fingers absently playing with the delicate purple petals floating in the water.

the candlelight dances around her, casting a soft glow across her face, and for a moment, she looks like something from a dream—beautiful, ethereal, a goddess bathed in warmth. everything in this quiet moment feels like it has slowed to match the rhythm of your heart, and you’re grateful for the stillness, for her.

as you settle into the warmth of the bath, billie leans back, her head gently resting against your chest, the two of you melting together in the soft embrace of the water. your legs, tangled beneath the surface, form a quiet connection, grounded in the silence between you. for a while, neither of you speaks. the only sounds are the soft crackle of the candle flames, a steady whisper in the room, and the occasional ripple of water as your feet shift, the delicate sound of your anklets grazing against the porcelain tub.

you let your fingers wander, tracing light patterns along her arms, the movements slow and tender, as if giving her space to breathe, to gather her thoughts. patience is something you’ve always had for her—something she’s always admired. even in the tense, unspoken moments, you remain still, waiting for her to speak when she’s ready.

after some time, she sighs, a soft exhale of air that carries the weight of everything unspoken. her voice, when it comes, is quiet but steady, the vulnerability in it a tenderness that wraps around you. “it’s not just the project,” she confesses, her words fragile but honest. “i feel like i’m always trying to prove myself, like no matter what i do, it’s never enough. and then i think about what people expect from me, and it’s just… a lot.”

her voice fades softly, her heart laid bare, and in that silence, you hold her, letting her feel your steady presence as she breathes through the weight of her words.

you hum softly, the sound a gentle lullaby, and press a kiss to her temple, a moment of quiet connection between you both. with a tender motion, your left arm drapes over her, and she nestles into it, resting her head on your forearm. her fingers graze your skin, tracing the delicate cursive lines of the tattoo that wraps around it, each stroke of her touch like an intimate conversation between her and the ink.

“i get it,” you murmur, your voice low and soothing, a soft breath against the stillness of the room. “you’ve got so much on your shoulders, but you are enough. i don’t ever want you to think otherwise. but i need you to know—you don’t have to carry it all alone. i’m here, okay? whenever you need me, just let me know.”

she nods, a small, quiet movement, and her legs shift, resting gently over yours beneath the water. her fingers curl around yours, pulling them into her touch, tracing the new french tips on your nails with a delicate reverence. “i know. and i don’t say it enough, but… i’m really grateful for you. for this. i don’t think i could get through half of this without you.”

her words flutter around your heart, soft and tender, and something inside you swells—something warm and full, as though the weight of everything between you is lightened in that moment. you pull her closer, holding her a little tighter, as if to make sure she knows that, in this world, she is never alone.

as the water cools, you gently lift her from the tub, your hands moving with the same tenderness that has defined the night. wrapping her in a soft towel, you dry her skin, each motion slow, careful—treating her like something precious, like a secret only you know. the faint scent of lavender lingers on her skin as you moisturize her body, the warmth of your hands gliding over her, bringing her back to the moment.

with a soft hum, you dress her in the fresh pajamas you’d brought in earlier, each fabric fold smoothing over her skin like an act of quiet love. reaching for a brush, you run it through her damp hair, each stroke almost meditative, before weaving it into two neat french braids, the rhythm of your fingers threading through her hair like you’ve done this a thousand times before.

once you’ve dressed yourself, you lead her downstairs, her hand finding yours as you move. at the kitchen island, she sits, watching you with soft eyes as you finish preparing dinner. the soft clink of utensils and the rhythmic chop of vegetables fills the space, but the most prominent sound is the ease of your conversation, light and easy, as you tell her about your day—about the small moments, the little victories, and the quiet things that mattered. she listens, her gaze never leaving you, her hands folded in her lap, tracing the soft lines of your self-care routine with a quiet reverence.

when dinner is ready, you turn off the stove, and with a practiced hand, plate the pasta, the steam rising like a promise. you sprinkle it with cheese before presenting it to her with a quiet smile. you settle into the chair next to hers, a chuckle slipping from your lips as she pulls the leg of your chair closer to her own, the movement playful, the connection simple, but full of a thousand unspoken words. the evening, now wrapped in warmth, feels like the calm after a storm—everything settled, everything right.

billie curls into your side, her body fitting against yours like it was always meant to be this way. her head rests gently on your chest, the soft rhythm of your heartbeat the only sound that matters as she takes small bites of her food, the warmth of her breath mingling with the quiet hum of the evening. “you really take care of me,” she murmurs, her voice thick with drowsiness, each word a delicate confession.

you smile, a tender curve of your lips, and trace gentle lines up her side with your fingers, the motion almost hypnotic. “and i always will. you’ve got nothing to worry about tonight.”

a contented sigh escapes her, and she sinks even deeper into your embrace, the weight of her body relaxing against you, her warmth becoming a part of you. she feels the truth of your words settle within her, like a quiet promise. she loves you, and in loving you, she has found something so rare and precious—something she never wants to lose. being loved by you is the safest place she’s ever known.

in this moment, she understands something profound: that no matter the distance or the storm, you’ll always find your way back to each other. and just as surely, she knows she’ll always be there for you, too.

astrc’s tag list: hit my asks saying “add to taglist” if you want to be on my regular taglist for all billie content!

[xan-izme]

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬

Part 2: The Dead Ones

Tag list: @pix-stuff, @sweetconnoissurgarden, @craftymoonchaos, @jsprien213, @hebaoffside, @bunbunboysworld, @melonylla, @numbu5, @tatsuri-zomushiki, @formulas-bitch, @fantasyhopperhea, @otterluver05, @caged-birdies-blog, @minkyungseokie, @una1002289, @vanessa-boo, @welpthisisboring, @sirenetheblogger, @salfishers, @meeeeeeee-stuff, @eylsiankub, @lilithskywalker, @midnightprocrastinator, @lilyalone, @cloudserenity, @wizzerreblogs, @reallynotsoconfident, @deliajo, @bitternsweet, @astterrial, @jjggdfvvy

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---__---___---___---___---

You and Bruce were in his office, you let out a puff of smoke as you stood by the window. Taking in the view.

"You know, in Arkham, there wasn't any bars on the windows. More like, plastic glass, so blurry I couldn't even see the moon clearly." The cigarette shortened even more as you took a long drag from the cigarette.

Bruce watched you from his desk, an unreadable expression on his face. You look so. . . it's hard for him to see you as who you are right now. Deep down Bruce knew you'd change some way after Arkham. Which was his sorry excuse for not visiting you. Only reading three of your letters, and stopped, he felt shame when it came to you. For which one of you, he doesn't know.

There are times, he did feel shame of being your father. Horrible, he knows. He's the worst father alive. And that's when he feels shameful of himself.

You let out a small sigh before turning to Bruce, you see the complex expression he had.

". . . You know Daddy, I don't think I ever seen you smile."

You walked closer to his desk and took a seat on one of the chairs. Bruce just silently stared at you. You still call him Daddy. He wanted to feel happy at the fact one thing stayed the same with you. But the way you said it. You said it in such a mocking way. Like it was a joke. Him being your father was a joke to you. It hurt. He rather you call him Bruce in the most hateful way you could.

"Y/n, I'm sorry-" Bruce tries to apologize, but you cut him off with the wave of your hand.

"I'm not here to fish out any apology from you."

Silence fills the room. You sighed again, putting out the cigarette by dropping it into a glass of water. You stood up and approached the vinyl player, you start it up as Bruce raised his brow in confusion. You turn around to face him

"Come on daddy, let's dance." You approached the older man, grabbing his arm and tugged him to stand. Even with how random your request was, Bruce complied, and you two began to slow dance together, the feeling was foreign to both.

The slow music continued as you two danced. You let your head rest on your father's shoulder, staring blankly at nothing. Bruce squeezed your hand. You began to realize. You have never been this close to Bruce. Always 4 feet away.

"When I was a little girl, there was this daddy daughter dance at school. . . I always wanted to dance with you like this. But you were busy. I understood, but it still hurt" Your statement caused Bruce to hold you a little tighter. Before he could attempt to apologize. You spoke up to shut him down.

"Don't you dare apologize."

The two of you continue to slow dance. You closed your eyes as Bruce rests his chin on your head. Closing his eyes. The two of you swaying to the music.

This moment should be a peaceful, loving moment between a father and daughter. But it felt more like an ending to a story that was going nowhere.

"Daddy, I have a question for you."

Bruce hummed in acknowledgement, still holding you tight.

Your eyes slowly open. "Have you seen Mommy recently?" Your question caught your father off guard. Visibly frozen. You lift your head up and see his expression turn a little sour.

"Why?" He spoke, slightly offended. Your spending time with him, why not focus on him?

"She's been missing. For a month. Not even her own family knows where she is. . ."

"Well, I don't where she is. I haven't had contact with her for years."

You sighed and pulled away, turning your back to him. A sign to show you were upset with his answer. Bruce frowns a little at you pulling away, his arms stayed up, almost to reach back for you.

"She visited me, every week, for several years. So please, understand I need to find her." You really were hoping to see if Bruce knew anything. But of course, he disappoints you with nothing. Again.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

You got a text from Rex; your grandfather needed you back at the manor. You didn't have enough time to get your things from your old room, so you left Bruce in his office, walking to the front doors, where Alfred waited for you with your coat, along with Dick, Tim and.. . someone else you didn't recognize. But you focused on Alfred, and gently smile to the older man.

"Thank you for the food, Alfred, probably the one thing I missed the most while locked up." You spoke in a joking manner as you turned to let Alfred put your coat on for you. Alfred smiled a little.

"Thank you, miss."

You look up and give the three men a small nod "Dick, Tim . . . And?" You gave the third man a small look of confusion.

"I'm sorry I don't believe I got your name." You adjusted your coat as you stared up at the man and gave him your hand to shake. But the man just stared at you, Dick had to nudge him to snap him out of it.

The man snapped out of it and quickly took your hand and held it as gently as possible. You took notice of the scars on his calloused hand. He spoke in a nervous tone

"Jason, Jason Todd"

You instantly come to a pause.

"I- Uh, Jason Todd?" You know the name. Very well. But the name doesn't fit the face you remember.

But the look on everyone's face says it all, you know this family would not lie about this. You stepped closer to Jason, your hands hovering over his face, Jason could see your eyes glossed over with incoming tears that never fell.

" How. . .I thought you were dead. . ." You spoke in almost a whisper.

Jason lets out a weak chuckle.

"I thought you were dead too."

No words could express how much he missed you. When he came back from the dead, back into the family. No one dared to mention you. Even when he asked about you. They acted as if you were dead. But you were only a few miles away. Locked up. The thought alone angers him, he could have saved you sooner.

"Heh, I seem to get that a lot." You coil back and felt your phone buzz. Your ride was here.

"Do you have to leave Miss? It's late, why not stay for the night." Alfred tries to have you stay for at least a night.

"You just got here" - Dick

"The crime has gotten worse lately"- Tim

"Please. . .?"- Jason

You sighed as you opened the door,

"Sorry boys, no can do. Maybe another time." You gave them a small smile and turned to the car that was here to pick you up, but when you took a few steps down the staircase, you turn around where the entrance door was still open with Alfred and the boys stood.

"Oh, and Jason" Hearing you speak his name, Jason immediately perked up

"It was good seeing you. . . alive and all." You gave him a small toothy grin, before finally getting into the car.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Do you understand, how angry Jason was right now? After all this time thinking you were dead, his sweet little sister gone, you were alive, in a cage full of crazy's. He doesn't care if you took a few lives. You didn't mean too, it was an accident.

He was furious with Bruce for letting you get locked up for so long. Because you're staying with the Falcone's, a bunch of criminals that resort to anything if kept on the top.

"She was alive this whole time, and you knew."

Not only was it Bruce, but Dick knew to. Of all people to keep this away from him, Jason wouldn't think Dick of all people would lie.

"No one said she was dead Jay." Dick tried to calm Jason in some way.

"No one said she was alive!" Jason was quick to snap at Dick who just frowned at Jason's tone.

Your reappearance was indeed a shock to everyone and a lot of them are still trying to process it. As for the ones who never knew of your existence, they were trying to find out more about you. Your name has never been uttered, no pictures of you. Nothing. It was like you never really existed.

Thank Tim for that. Who had to remove you completely, so the Wayne name had less pressure on them. But now Tim is trying to gather what kind of rehabilitation you were in. He felt suspicious of your return. The way your eyes would bare into everyone in a sort of creepy way. As if analyzing them, Tim knew if he brought it up to either Bruce or Dick they would not listen to him. Especially by the way they reacted to your return.

So he was lucky Cassandra and Duke came to him first.

"The way she stared at me, I don't know man it gave me the creeps." Duke wasn't saying this out of meanness. You were genuinely making him uneasy every time you glanced at him, even more nervous when you gave him a smile.

Cassandra felt threatened by you. No one but her noticed how you stared at her the most.

"Something isn't right with her." Was all Cassandra said. Something was indeed wrong with you.

". . . Well, she just got out of Arkham, maybe she's a little. . . ?" Duke trailed off. Not wanting to say the word crazy just yet.

Tim silently listened to Duke and Cassandra's concern about you.

"Haven't you known her longer Tim?" Duke questioned.

Tim sat back in his chair as he let out a small sigh. You might have not noticed much, but he was always watching you. From the moment Bruce took him under his wing. You were small. Quiet, and simple. Not like that was a bad thing. At that time Tim wanted excitement, thrill. And you were none of those things, due to the fact you were practically a toddler.

But now, your different. Of course. It's a no-brainer Arkham would change you, he saw it coming. But your change was, unsettling. He hoped you would stay for him to find out more. But it seems your occupied with the Falcone's at the moment. Whatever it is, he's going to find out.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

"𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚊 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎?"

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Future Holds Me (billy hargrove)

Summary: You and Billy get interrupted by Max and Eleven.

Warnings: Fluff

WC: 1K

requested: by @fandom-princess-forevermore my beloved <3\\ You asked about domestic fluff for Billy Hargrove. It's simple for me: Billy and his girlfriend are enjoying some quiet, intimate time when Max and Eleven interrupt to talk boys or other stuff. They all bond, and when she returns to Billy, the subject of kids is brought up, and she pictures Billy as a cute girl dad.

Read on A03!

--

The soft glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of Billy’s bedroom, casting a warm light across the quiet space. You and Billy were tangled up on the bed, limbs intertwined as you lay in the comfortable silence. His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm while you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“This is nice,” you murmured, tilting your head to look up at him. His lips curled into a rare, soft smile, his usual cocky demeanor melted away in the comfort of your closeness.

“Yeah, it is,” Billy replied, his voice low and husky. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, making your heart flutter. Moments like this were rare, where he let his guard down completely, and you treasured them.

Before you could lose yourself completely in the moment, the door to Billy’s room swung open without warning. Startled, you both sat up, your peaceful bubble instantly burst by the two girls standing in the doorway—Max and Eleven.

"Hey!" Max greeted cheerfully, completely oblivious to the intimate moment she’d just interrupted. Eleven gave a small wave, her expression more reserved but curious as ever.

Billy groaned, flopping back onto the pillows with a dramatic sigh. “Seriously?” he muttered under his breath. “Can’t you two go bother someone else?”

Max ignored him completely, her attention already focused on you. “We were looking for you!” she said, her eyes lighting up. “We wanted to talk about boys.”

“Yeah, boys,” Eleven chimed in with a small smile, though her understanding of the subject was still a bit limited.

You laughed, sitting up a bit straighter. “Oh, yeah? Well, you’ve come to the right person.”

Billy rolled his eyes and sat up, clearly irritated at being interrupted. “You’re really going to leave me for this?” he asked, half-joking but with an edge of genuine annoyance.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. He grumbled something under his breath but let you go.

You followed Max and Eleven out of the room and into the living room, where the three of you plopped down on the couch. The conversation flowed easily, with Max teasing you about Billy and Eleven asking curious questions about relationships. It was fun, bonding with the girls, and you could feel the sisterly affection Max had for you, especially now that she trusted you with her brother.

“Do you think Billy’s…good boyfriend material?” Max asked suddenly, raising an eyebrow as if genuinely unsure. Eleven’s eyes widened with interest.

You chuckled, thinking about how soft and gentle Billy could be when it was just the two of you. “He’s a lot better than he seems,” you admitted. “He just doesn’t show that side of himself to everyone.”

Max made a face, clearly not convinced. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Eventually, the conversation shifted from boys to other things, and by the time you were ready to head back to Billy, you felt a deeper connection to the two girls. They waved you off, satisfied with their bonding session, and you made your way back to Billy’s room, where he was sprawled out on the bed, looking impatient.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled as you crawled back into bed beside him.

“Sorry, we got distracted,” you said, snuggling up next to him again. “They’re really sweet.”

Billy sighed, wrapping his arm around you again, though this time there was something more thoughtful about his expression. He was quiet for a few moments before he spoke again.

“You’re good with them,” he said softly, almost like he didn’t want to admit it. “With Max. And even with El. I’m not really…good at that kind of thing.”

You glanced up at him, surprised by the shift in his tone. “You could be,” you said gently. “You’re good when you try. Max looks up to you, even if she doesn’t show it.”

Billy’s expression softened, his blue eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “I dunno,” he muttered. “Sometimes I think maybe I wouldn’t be so bad at that…you know, having kids.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You had never talked about the future like this, not seriously. But now that he’d brought it up, you couldn’t help but imagine it — Billy as a dad, maybe even a girl dad. You could picture him with a little girl on his shoulders, her giggles filling the air as he pretended to be annoyed but secretly loving every second of it.

“You’d be cute as a girl dad,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Billy looked at you like you’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “A girl dad?”

“Yeah,” you said, grinning now. “You’d be overprotective and teach her how to stand up for herself. She’d wrap you around her little finger, and you’d let her get away with everything.”

He snorted, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you teased, imagining a little girl with his blonde curls and piercing blue eyes, running around causing trouble just like him. “She’d be your mini-me.”

Billy’s smirk faded a little as he considered it, his expression growing serious. “I don’t know if I’d be good at it. I never had a good example, you know?”

You reached up, cupping his cheek with your hand. “You’d be better than you think, Billy. You’ve got a good heart, even if you don’t show it to everyone.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were soft, filled with an emotion you rarely saw from him. “Maybe,” he murmured. “One day.”

“One day,” you echoed, your heart swelling with the thought of a future you hadn’t fully considered until now.

Billy smiled at you, a real smile this time, before pulling you closer. “Guess we’ll see.”

And in that moment, wrapped up in his arms, you couldn’t help but believe that maybe, just maybe, Billy could be the dad you pictured him as — protective, loving, and better than he ever gave himself credit for.

[mya-valentine]

Hi :D! Can I request Kinich with an s/o that is pure innocent and always see the good in other, to the point she doesn't mind Ajaw behavior, despite his awful behavior she thinks that he's cute and naively thought whenever he interrupt their date it's just Ajaw wanting attention or thought he's jealous because she stole Kinich away from him, spoiling Kinich's saurian with some affection like giving him juice to calm him down so she and Kinich can enjoy their date peacefully. Even if Ajaw insult her she just thought he's cute and not offended, jokingly said that Ajaw is like their child.

Soft Hearts and Sharp Tongues: A Date with Kinich and Ajaw

It was another sunny afternoon in the lush forests of Natlan, where the air smelled like blooming flowers and the wind carried a gentle, comforting warmth. You had been looking forward to this day all week—a special date with Kinich. He had promised to take you to a secluded spot near a riverbank, where the trees formed a natural canopy, casting dappled sunlight on the grassy floor. It sounded perfect, peaceful, and just the kind of place where you could enjoy each other’s company, away from the usual hustle of daily life.

As you walked alongside Kinich, your fingers intertwined with his, you felt an overwhelming sense of warmth and contentment. His stoic demeanor always made you feel safe, and you loved the way his soft gaze warmed only for you. His protector's instincts kicked in often, but today was supposed to be just about the two of you.

Except… there was Ajaw.

The moment you and Kinich had sat down on the soft blanket by the riverbank, a loud, familiar voice disrupted the tranquility.

"Look at you two, playing house again, huh?" Ajaw barked, his grating tone unmistakable. "Kinich, I can't believe you're wasting your time here."

You smiled warmly, not at all phased by the interruption. You adored Kinich’s companion, despite his crude and unruly behavior. While most people were put off by Ajaw’s loud mouth and constant sarcasm, you always saw something different—a creature who needed a little love, a little attention. Maybe he was just misunderstood.

"Ajaw!" you greeted him cheerfully, waving your hand like you were seeing an old friend. "It’s nice to see you! Would you like to join us?"

Kinich let out a sigh, visibly tensing. He had hoped Ajaw wouldn’t find you two today. "Ignore him," Kinich murmured softly to you, squeezing your hand slightly. "He’s just being… himself."

But you shook your head, unbothered. "I think he just wants some attention. Maybe he’s jealous I stole you away for the day?" You giggled innocently, oblivious to the look of disbelief that passed between Kinich and Ajaw.

"Jealous? Of you?" Ajaw scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. "Please. Don’t flatter yourself, girl. It’s more like I’m disgusted by the nauseating display of sweetness you two are putting on."

Your smile never faltered. In fact, you leaned in closer to Ajaw, as if trying to offer him some comfort. "Well, maybe you just need some juice to calm down!" you said, reaching into the picnic basket and handing him a small bottle of fruit juice. "It’s really refreshing. Here, drink this, and you’ll feel better."

Ajaw blinked, clearly caught off guard by your gesture. "Juice? I don’t need your pity juice," he snarled, though his words lacked the usual venom. It was as if he was momentarily confused by your kindness.

"Oh, come on, Ajaw, you’re like a little kid when you’re upset," you teased, eyes gleaming with amusement. "It’s like we’re your parents, and you’re our grumpy little child."

Kinich shot you a look of mild horror, and Ajaw’s face contorted with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "Child? You dare call the great—"

But you laughed, cutting him off. "I think it’s cute. You’re just misunderstood, and that’s okay! We all need love in different ways."

Ajaw was flabbergasted. How could you be so… unbothered? How could you look at his insults and see something cute? "You’re either incredibly naive or just plain stupid," he growled, clearly trying to regain his usual sharp edge.

"Neither!" you chirped, taking a sip of your own juice. "I just think you and Kinich are close. You don’t mean half the things you say, do you?"

Kinich ran a hand down his face, torn between amusement and exasperation. "[Name]," he started cautiously, "Ajaw isn’t… exactly the affectionate type. Don’t read too much into his behavior."

But you just smiled up at Kinich, your eyes bright with an optimism that seemed unshakable. "I know he’s rough around the edges, but I think deep down, he’s just trying to protect you in his own way. Maybe he doesn’t know how to show it properly, but I get it."

Ajaw’s feathers ruffled. "Protect him? The only thing I’m protecting him from is the mistake of spending his life with someone who doesn’t know when to shut up."

You just laughed again, unoffended as usual. "You’re so funny, Ajaw! You act so tough, but I know you’re secretly sweet. You’re just too proud to admit it."

Kinich couldn’t help but chuckle at your words, shaking his head slightly. "You’re too kind for your own good, you know that?" he murmured to you, though there was a deep affection in his tone.

As the afternoon went on, you and Kinich tried to enjoy your picnic, but Ajaw continued to linger nearby, throwing sarcastic comments your way. Every time he tried to insult you, though, you would respond with kindness or a lighthearted joke, completely disarming him.

You even offered him some of the fruit you had packed, much to Kinich’s amusement and Ajaw’s growing irritation. But strangely enough, Ajaw never left. He stayed within earshot, occasionally making snide remarks but never actually leaving you two alone. It was almost as if he wanted to be part of the day, even if he would never admit it.

By the time the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the landscape, you leaned your head against Kinich’s shoulder, smiling contentedly. "This was a perfect day," you said softly.

Kinich wrapped an arm around you, his lips brushing the top of your head. "I’m glad you think so. Even with… certain interruptions," he added with a pointed glance at Ajaw, who was still nearby, pretending not to care.

You glanced at Ajaw, your heart full of warmth. "Oh, come on, Kinich. He’s like family. You’ll see—one day, he’ll appreciate me."

Ajaw made a gagging noise in the background, but you only smiled wider. "Right, Ajaw?" you called out playfully.

"Over my dead body," he growled back.

You giggled softly, unbothered by his hostility. "Maybe tomorrow I’ll bring you some different juice," you mused. "You’ll like that, right?"

Ajaw glared at you, pixels puffed out in irritation. But for a brief moment—just a fleeting second—there was a glimmer of something softer in his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to grow on him.

"Whatever," Ajaw muttered, turning away. "You two make me sick."

But as he floated off, you and Kinich exchanged amused glances. You knew better. Ajaw would be back tomorrow, grumpy as ever, but maybe—just maybe—a little less resistant to the idea of being part of your unconventional little family.

For now, though, you were content to rest in Kinich’s arms, the peaceful river flowing beside you and the sunset painting the sky in warm hues. Despite Ajaw’s interruptions, today had been perfect, just as you had hoped. And, in your heart, you believed that even Ajaw was starting to feel the love.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[stevieschrodinger]

The stone wall is chilly at Eddie's back, but he relishes the relief it offers in the stuffy hall. Every brazier is lit, a hog turning over in the massive fireplace. The queen is entertaining again, dignitaries and minor neighboring royals visiting to celebrate another successful season. Plentiful crops. Peace. All that sort of stuff.

"He's here you know, I've seen him," Chrissy sidles up to him. She's done something to the skirts of her maids outfit, twisted them up somehow to the point of being vaguely indecent. She only does it to tease the Queen; everyone in the hall knows if they lay so much as a fingertip on their Queens beloved paramour they're likely to loose an arm. A punishment no doubt delivered by sir Steven, the queens favored knight.

"Of course he's here, our royal highness wouldn't be in public without his protection."

Chrissy hums, "you going to go find him?"

Eddie shrugs, "maybe?"

"Not after another kiss?"

Eddie rolls his eyes, "it isn't like that and it wasn't...he was very gentlemanly." And he was, it was so chaste, as soft as a butterflies wing. And then Steve had left and now Eddie is...uncertain.

"Bet you wish he wasn't though," Chrissy's tone is lewd.

"Easy for you to say, we can't all be the Queens bed warmer."

"Slattern."

"Sow."

They watch the crowed absently for a while, making merry, doing no doubt irreparable damage to the wine cellar.

"You have a feeling about him though," Chrissy idles. Wheedling.

"He can always see me," Eddie admits.

"What, always?"

"Well...he knows I'm there, somehow. Like he can sense me."

She turns to him, gesturing Eddie up and down, "what, even when you're all the way invisible?"

Eddie nods, "and when I'm a bird...he can tell, somehow."

"Really?" Chrissy leans in like Eddie's just revealed the most interesting thing ever, "but you look just like every other scraggly crow-"

"Excuse you-"

"Okay, so slightly above average plumage but not...discernible. I've seen you as birds loads of times, but it's not like I could pick you out of a crowed."

"He can."

"Huh. Well can't you just...cast a spell or something to find out-"

Eddie sighs deeply, "Chris-"

She raises her hands defensively, "I know I know 'My magic only affects myself an inanimate objects,'" Chrissy recites in what is an unfortunately accurate caricature of Eddie.

They're silent again, Chrissy nudging Eddie with a lethal elbow when Steve appears on the dais, checking in with Queen Robin. He's beautiful. No helmet tonight, and he's got the fancy armor on, in deference to the event no doubt. He has to look the part as head of the Queens Guard. He's so shiny.

Eddie sighs, lovelorn and pathetic.

"If you're going to do something you better do it soon, his parents have him betrothed to some noble someones daughter."

Eddie swallows thickly, "and it would be very sensible of him to pursue that. Pretty wife will produce pretty kids and they can live on their no doubt very pretty dowry. It's a good match, both of their stations would benefit."

"Eddie...you are the kingdoms wizard, the only magic user at court...you're not nobody." Eddie shrugs. "What if I told you...what if I told you I definitely know it's not what he wants."

Eddie drags his eyes away from where Steve is standing, scanning the room like a holy beacon of protection. "And how would you know that exactly."

Chrissy shrugs a shoulder demurely, "they are best friends. They talk to each other. And then Robin talks to me."

Eddie scoffs, "if that's what you call it."

Chrissy elbows him again, "look just...talk to him, okay?" She squeezes Eddie's arm through his robe before she moves away.

"I know it's you," Steve says into the darkness, the same way he always does.

Eddie, briefly, debates remaining hidden. He likes the cool air out here on the balcony, and his seat on the wall is comfortable. He lets himself reappear, despite his misgivings. Even though he's sitting right next to where Steve is leaning, Steve doesn't startle. Steve never startles.

Everyone else does.

"Having a good night?" Eddie asks, keeping his eyes out on the view, the horizon, the stars.

The leather straps that hold Steve's shiny armor shift quietly as he shrugs. Steve's always very quiet, everything about his armor well oiled and well cared for, "not sure yet."

That peaks Eddie's attention, and he turns, "what will be the decider?"

Steve smiles, beautiful, perfect, his hair flopping over his forehead, "if I'm about to get another kiss or not."

Eddie turns away, huffing, "heard there's a wedding in the offing."

"Not if I get a better offer."

Eddie huffs again, Steve's hands are warm where they come to rest on his shoulders, warm through Eddie's woolen cloak, warm against the chill of the late evening. Eddie swallows thickly, reaching up, and Steve tangles their fingers together where they rest on Eddie's shoulder.

There's a soft kiss to Eddie's curls.

"Your parents going to cause trouble?"

"They can try. I don't know if you knew this but my best friend is the actual Queen."

Eddie doesn't want to laugh, he doesn't want to give Steve the satisfaction, but it slips out regardless. Eddie starts to turn, swinging his legs over the wall, letting Steve help him to slide the rest of the way, robes catching on the stone.

"Come here, my little blackbird."

"Actually I'm a crow-"

Steve shuts him up with a kiss.

[tldrthor]

The Princess (and the chaos she brings with her) - steve rogers x fem!reader (1/?)

Summary: when Thor asked the avengers to guard a dear friend of his, they didn't think twice before saying yes. What they didn't know was that said friend is the princess of one of the nine realms, and a lost love of one Captain Rogers.

Part 1 // I thought you were dead // word count: 3.5k

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"(y/n), you have to eject, right now!" Steve screamed over the torrents of wind whistling through the ship. Schmidt was dead, gone. So was the tesseract. But it wasn't over yet. "I have to put her in the water!"

The girl behind him widened her eyes, battling against the elements to reach him. "There's no world in which I let you do that, Captain!"

"I'm not asking for permission!"

"Well then, I guess we go down together!" She painstakingly made her way to him, every step a feat of strength. Her previously neatly pinned curls no longer even resembled what they once were as her hair whipped around her face.

As Steve turned to face her, she somehow still looked angelic. He felt that right now, she was more heavenly than ever. He couldn't let her die with him.

"Buckle in." He commanded, as they began their quick descent. He looked at her, the first woman who had ever made him feel seen, the only person he had ever met who was as crazy as he was.

As the ice flew closer, he turned and placed a hand tenderly on her face. Tears welled in his eyes as his mind wandered to the future they could've had. God, they could have been amazing.

"I'm sorry, (y/n)." He whispered. She could only just hear it, even though they were right next to each other.

He pulled the yellow ejection lever on the seat she had just buckled herself into, watching as her eyes widened. "No! Steve, no!" She lifted her hands to stop him, to jam the lever, anything to stay with him. She wasn't quick enough.

Steve closed his eyes as her seat was ejected, hearing her scream his name. There was no world where he allowed her to go down with him, and he trusted that wherever she ended up, Stark and Peggy would find her. He hoped they would be able to find him, too.

He hadn't prayed in a long time, but as he went down, he bargained with God for her safety.

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"It is my honour to introduce the new and improved Captain America and the Howling Commandos exhibit, in honour of the 100th birthday of Captain Steven Grant Rogers." The crowd clapped as the senator stepped off the podium, motioning for Steve to take the mic. Bucky and Sam laughed at how uncomfortable the Captain was as he stood thanking everyone for an exhibit he never wanted. All part of the job, he supposed.

After the handshakes, and the photo ops, and the autographs and the meet and greets, the boys finally got relative peace to wander around the new exhibition.

"I can't believe you used to wear these stupid suits." Sam laughed, standing in front of the main exhibit. Bucky sighed, budging Sam's shoulder. "Says the asshole who wears a bird suit to fight." He retorts.

Steve laughed at his friends antics, but walked away when he noticed an addition to the exhibit he hadn't seen before. He stared, wide eyed at the name in front of him.

(Y/N): THE MISSING HERO?

Steve found himself drinking in every inch of the gorgeous photo underneath the text, her bright smile and barely visible freckles. The lighting highlighted the different hues in her immaculately pinned hair. She looked just like an angel, as she always did in real life.

Steve looked down, forlorn eyes investigating very few artefacts in the glass exhibit. Her folded uniform, found in her room after the plane went down. The blush lipstick you wore every day. Finally, an object that Steve didn't recognise. A golden ring, encrusted in unidentified jewels and a family crest no one knew. He frowned.

He had known her only a short few months, but he regretted never asking about her family. And now, it would haunt him that he never did until his last breath.

"They never found her, huh?" Bucky placed his covered hand on Steve's shoulder, a sadness tinged in his voice. He had only met (y/n) briefly, but he knew even then that Steve's heart rested in the palm of that woman's hand.

He had asked about her, once, but the look on Steve's face when her name was mentioned told him everything he needed to know.

"No. Howard searched for years, found nothing. Turned out that she had lied on her intake forms for the SSR, too. We don't even know if (y/n) was really her name." He took a beat. "We have no idea if she survived or not."

Steve didn't have to make the subtext clear, Bucky knew he worried that he had killed her by ejecting her from that plane. Bucky also knew there was no sense in trying to tell him she would have died either way, that the ice would've killed her.

"You okay?" Bucky asked, after another few moments of silence.

Steve nodded, looking at the photo. "I'm glad she's remembered. I just wish I didn't have so many unanswered questions."

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"So," Tony started. "Thor is arriving with the guest of honour later today, who we have agreed to protect here for the meantime. We don't have a lot of background for this one. The dark elves are the ones we're protecting her against, but Thor said threat could come from many areas. Do we have any questions?"

The team looked nothing short of bored. Well, most of them. Cap always had the good grace to sit up and look interested. Scott was straight up asleep.

"Is she important? How long will she be staying with us?" Steve asked.

"No idea, and uh, no idea. Anything else?"

"Is she single?" Sam asked, earning a laugh from some of the others. Steve shook his head disapprovingly, but smiled at his friend's levity.

As Steve stood up to go back to training, FRIDAY sounded around the room. "Excuse me everyone, my satellites have detected a bifrost signal heading for the compound imminently."

"Speak of the devil!" Tony clapped his hands as everyone headed out to the bifrost landing site (something that had been instituted after Tony's lawn got scorched one too many times).

Bucky smacked Scott upside the head to wake him up with a jolt. "Oh, where are you guys going?" He called behind them, jogging to catch up. Steve waited behind from him, laughing at his groggy friend.

A bright light connected with the grass just beside the landing site. Tony's hands covered his eyes as he mouthed are you fucking kidding me. When the light cleared, Thor stood tall in his usual armour.

"My friends!" His voice boomed, "I present to you, my fellow avengers, the honourable princess of Alfheim, jewel of the Alfar and ambassador to Asgard." Thor's voice boomed through the halls of the compound. "This is my friend, (y/n)."

Beside Thor stood a girl. She was breathtakingly beautiful, with a heavenly stature. She looked like she could have been carved from marble by the hands of God himself.

A light Asgardian pink dress was covered by a golden chest-plate which fit her body like it had been moulded just for her. It was covered in intricate etchings of suns and stars, which caught the light and shone brilliantly. She wore golden jewellery, which was nothing like the avengers had ever seen. Golden ear cuffs covered her pointed ears, with her long hair pulled into an up-do, emphasising the golden, bejewelled tiara on her head.

"Princess?" Sam squeaked. Wanda smacked him, with a look that screamed don't embarrass us.

Tony tilted his head in confusion at the guest, who he could almost swear he recognised from somewhere. "Thor, you did not inform us that we were looking after the ruler of a planet. We would have been more prepared."

"I am not ruler yet, Mr. Stark." The girl cast her eyes up at Tony, as she smiled sweetly. Her voice was honey smooth, and anyone who heard it felt themselves being charmed by it. "I have heard much about you all from Thor."

"Should we bow?" Bruce whispered to Tony, who shrugged his shoulders. Thankfully, (y/n) took the lead and shook each of their hands.

She looked around at each of the gathered avengers. Thor made his introductions to the rest of the group. "Where are the others?" Thor enquired.

"Here!" Steve smiled at the site of his old friend, his view of the princess obscured by the large man. Bucky and Scott tagged behind him, also happily greeting Thor.

"Captain, it is very good to see you. Please, let me introduce you to the Princess (y/n)." Thor stepped aside to introduce them, but his eyebrows knitted together in confusion when neither of them moved, almost frozen in place.

"Uh... hi." Scott side-stepped the Captain and caught the eye of their guest. "My name's Scott Lang."

The girl tore her eyes away from the captain, unsure really on what to do. But her training kicked in, knowing that being rude was one of the worst sins a princess could commit. "Hello, Mr. Lang. I am (y/n)."

"Holy shit." Bucky breathed out.

The rest of the avengers watched the rather silent exchange with confusion. It was very unlike Steve to get so tongue-tied, and he would never be so rude as to not introduce himself.

"Captain Rogers..." The girl spoke first, confusing them further. "I believed you dead." Tears had welled in her eyes, intriguing the observing crowd even more.

"I thought you were dead." He breathed. "What... what is going on?"

Bucky interjected. "Um, hi. I'm Bucky, we met briefly in '45."

She smiled softly at him, but her eyes betrayed her confusion. "Sergeant Barnes, of course! Didn't you... also die?"

"Yeah, we've all got a lot of explaining to do." Bucky laughed as the absurdity of the situation caught up to him.

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

Thor's eyes darted between his friend and the captain. When Thor asked the avengers to guard her from the war on Alfheim, he knew some hijinks would ensue. This is not what he expected. He knew you had spent some time on Midgard before and when you returned you were emotionally distraught. He had simply figured the war you had fought with the Midgardians had taken it's toll.

He eyed both the Captain and you, suspiciously. You were his dear friend, but you had never talked to him about any mortal love.

"So, Princess. You've been here before." Tony enquired.

The Princess licked her lips nervously, glancing at Steve, who had barely moved a muscle, his eyebrows furrowed. "Yes, Mr. Stark. I spent some time here during the second world war. I left Midgard when Johann Schmidt was defeated, and haven't returned since."

"Tell us about your world, Princess. I've never heard of it before." Natasha, the red-head in the corner, asked the guest.

"You have heard of it before." The princess smiled, explaining. "I believe we are now known as a fantasy character here - you call us elves." She pointed to her pointed ears as each avenger clung to her words.

Thor smiled at his Midgardian friends' curiosity.

"The Alfar still live amongst you, they are simply unseen. I believe you may know Tolkien?" At the mention of the author's name, everyone's ears pricked. "He was one of my father's greatest friends and many of his book settings were inspired by Alfheim."

"What!" Scott exclaimed. "That's insane."

"Really, Ant Man?" Bucky responded, pointing out that they were all ridiculous, when you thought about it. The world was crazy now.

The princess chuckled, and rose from her seat at the conference table. "Thank you very much for your hospitality, Avengers. I would quite like to rest in my chambers, if you would be so gracious to allow me."

"Um, yeah... consider yourself allowed." Tony stumbled over his words. Very unusual for him, and it did not go unnoticed by the others. "Dinner is at seven."

"Thank you, Mr. Stark. Captain Rogers," She addressed the Captain, who looked up quickly. His face was pale, and he nervously twiddled his thumbs. "Would you be so kind as to show me my rooms?"

He popped up, almost comedically fast. "Yes. Yeah, sure. Um, this way." He walked out quickly, darting his eyes back to make sure the princess was following him.

She followed, gracefully. Her skirts fanned out behind her as she walked. The avengers in the room could scarcely take their eyes off her as she faded from sight.

As soon as the door closed behind them, the room devolved into chaos. People shouting theories and questions left, right and centre. Mostly, everyone was just bewildered. Bucky and Thor discussed how they had both known the couple separately, and whether each had talked about the other.

Natasha watched as Tony sat quietly on his tablet for a few seconds, searching for something she could only assume was relevant to the discussion at hand.

"Bucky, what's the deal there?" Clint asked.

He was interrupted by Tony. "Aha!" Stark called, silencing the room. "I knew I recognised her from somewhere."

He projected a photograph to the wall, and the avengers gasped.

The photograph consisted of Steve and Bucky front and centre. Bucky had his left arm wrapped lazily around Tony's dad, Howard. And Steve was looking directly at the girl next to him, holding her to him by the waist. It was the princess. The gaze he looked at her with... it was like nothing they had ever seen from him.

"They didn't just know each other, they were in love." Bucky replied to Clint's question, a hint of sadness underneath his words.

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(Y/n) followed Steve along the large corridors of the compound, her smaller legs working double time to match his long strides. They walked in silence, for the most part. It wasn't the comfortable kind.

"Captain." She spoke first, again. As she called for him, he stopped walking abruptly, turning slowly. He met her gaze and then cast his eye down.

"(y/n)... I mean, um, Princess." He responded.

"(y/n) is sufficient." She whispered, almost guiltily. "I can't believe you're alive..."

"I can't believe you're alive," He retorted. "I searched for you, when I woke up. They couldn't find any records of you other than your enlistment form, and they found you had lied. People think you're just a ghost story..."

He took a breath. "I can't believe you're here and... an alien princess?"

"I know it's hard to believe, I hope you understand why I couldn't tell you back then." She laughed. "When I found that you and Sergeant Barnes were dead, I couldn't face being here anymore... I returned to Alfheim."

As she thought back on it, a tear sprung to her eye. On seeing her reaction, Steve couldn't help himself but place a friendly hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles. She briefly froze at the contact, but quickly, she moved her own hand down his arm until she was holding onto his hand with both of hers.

So much went unsaid, but the contact confirmed what they had both most desperately wanted to know. Would it be the same?

"If I had known that you and Sergeant Barnes were alive, Captain..." She admitted. "I would have returned in an instant, I give you my word."

He smiled, rubbing a thumb over the back of her hand. A red blush hugged her cheeks as he did so.

It was typical of him that he couldn't concentrate on the moment, "Why are you here?" He asked. "What are we protecting you from?"

She sighed. "The Svartalfar, or the dark elves. You may know them - they attacked Thor in the Midgardian city of London some years ago now." He nodded in recognition.

"They are determined to conquer Alfheim, and have set their sights on my family. They have already managed to get close to killing me."

She pushed the collar of her dress down, showing a large, angry, red scar just above her collarbone. His hands flew up to trace the scar. She gulped at the close contact, her eyes meeting his.

His expression gave away his concern, knowing that Thor had suggested she was in a lot of danger. "Don't worry, Princess. You're safe here." He smiled, softly. "We'll protect you with everything we've got."

"Thank you, Captain."

"It's just Steve." He unhooked their hands, and gave her his arm. She linked her arm in his, and he resumed wandering down the halls to her rooms. "Do you have any bags?"

"No, I fled to Asgard with nothing when I needed healing. The Asgardians were kind enough to offer many gorgeous clothes for me to bring, but I figured they were a bit conspicuous."

Steve laughed, "Yeah, they might be."

They walked for a little while longer, before Steve entered a room to the side. It was rather basic compared to what she was used to, but it would more than suffice for the meantime.

"This is your room." He stood by the door as she entered. "I'm just down the hall if you need anything. I'll get Tony to send you some less conspicuous clothes. See you at dinner."

"Thank you, Steven." He laughed at her inability to be too informal with him. He nodded at her, and turned to walk down the hall to his room.

As he entered, the photograph of her from the Smithsonian caught his eye from the nightstand. He picked it up, tracing her features with his finger - unable to stop the smile spreading across his face. Who would've thought? Not only was his girl alive, she was also alien royalty. Sometimes, just sometimes, he adored his strange, strange world.

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"Sir," The agent walked into the dark room with purpose in her every step. "The Princess has been spotted."

The man in the chair looked up at the mention of his target. "Show me" he ordered. He watched as agent transferred the images on her tablet to the big screen, showing grainy, far away surveillance of the avengers compound.

As low quality as the image was, the woman arriving with Thor in the distinctive Alfar dress and armour was certainly the princess.

"Oh, my dear..." The man's deep voice dragged out. "You have walked right into our sights."

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a/n: let me know what you think! if you can't tell, this is basically the set up for a longer series... i'm really excited to explore this character and get deeper into the relationships!

i've never really written in the third person POV before, so let me know if it's something you like or not, and i can switch for the next part.

please like/reblog if you enjoy! let me know if you would like to be tagged in the next part <3

[starless-nightz]

Hi!! Could you possibly write head cannons for Jinx x Fem!reader whose house is very cozy and very Maximalist? Like if you enter her house you're not leaving, either because you've managed to fall asleep or you're memorized by all the lights and decorations. This is silly but after Act 2 it's deserved I think.

Jinx with a fem! S/O thats has a very cozy and very maximalist house

note -> JINX MY LOVE AHHHHH, planning on writing a Jinx X fem! reader one-shot that would be dropping on saturday (aka on the release of act 3)

warnings -> none.

content includes -> fluff, silly, she loves your house.

The first time Jinx steps into your home, she’s absolutely stunned. It’s like stepping into another world—warm, inviting, and so full of life that it’s the exact opposite of what she’s used to.

Jinx absolutely loves your house, she loves how cozy and colorful is, its much more comfortable than her lair, she might even take some inspiration from you.

The lights are her favorite part, whether they’re fairy lights strung up everywhere or stained-glass lamps casting warm, colorful glows, Jinx is mesmerized.

She’ll spend a good ten minutes just lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling, giggling.

Jinx’s usual chaotic and messy energy is oddly calmed by your space, she doesn't know why but it just makes her feel so calm and at peace.

There’s something about the way it feels like a hug in house form that makes her slow down and just exist for a while.

Jinx is practically living with you at this point, spending most of her time in your home and coming back every single night.

You don’t mind it of course since you get to spend more time with your wonderful girlfriend, even giving her a spare key to your home so she can come in when you aren't there.

Since she started practically living with you Jinx would add her own touch to your home, there would be some doodles on the walls and lamps, but nothing that would ruin the cosy feeling.

Jinx thrives in your maximalist, cozy space, finding it to be the perfect antidote to her chaos and her hallucinations. Your home becomes the one place where she can truly let her guard down and just be.

[naomis-daydream]

love & basketball // paige bueckers

summary: y/n and a particular uconn player get a little to close for comfort on the court, adding fuel to the fire of allegations that the two were more than rivals, quite the opposite in fact.

warnings: none?

a/n: that one game of dijonai and nalyssa? yeah.

✧

your nose scrunches in discomfort as your chin connects with the harsh wooden floor of LSU’s gymnasium. you shake your head at the sting, taking a deep breath before the blow of a ref’s whistle rings you back to reality, signaling a foul on UConn by player number five.

you two had been going back and forth the entire game. you had been crowding her shots with your defense, she’d been faking you out every time you’d think you had her. it was an entertaining game to watch, and even more interesting to play.

your team was down by six, you knew if you got a foul on UConn, you could match the score easy with two free throws. it was hard at first, if you’re being completely honest. you had to get one of the most talented college basketball players to fall into your trap. paige is a good player, a smart one, but so are you.

which brought you here, feeling the pressure of two arms wrapping around your waist, two hands planted to pull you up slowly.

you use the ball to push yourself off the ground, coming to a stand as you push your hips back slightly. paige doesn’t miss the way your ass brushes against her pelvis as you rise, sliding her hands down to your hips to steady you as you passed the ball to the ref.

she leans over slightly as the two of you approach the free throw line, whispering a small, “you good?”

you turn your head slightly but don’t avert your gaze towards her completely, giving a short nod because jogging to meet your teammates for your two frees.

paige was tantalizing, anyone with eyes could see that, but you weren’t gonna let a little slip up throw off the rest of your game, especially this close to march madness. she knew this, which is why her lips pulled into a sly smile as she took her place beside her teammates and across from yours.

nika glances at paige with raised brows, an incredulous expression laced across her face, to which the blonde puts both hands up in defense, mumbling something about simply “helping you up.” the defensive guard shakes her head, facing away from paige and to the center where you got ready to take your shot.

the arena falls silent as you dribble in place a few times, lining up your shot before sending it. you see uconn’s defense attempt to block it, but its through and through. same goes for your second shot, swishing through the hoop as the student section erupts with cheers. you leave your arm in the air, three fingers waving as the clock starts again.

you look back at paige as you begin to jog to your next position, smirking.

oh this was gonna be a fun game.

-

you slowly gather your belongings into your gym bag as the rest of the girls file out, voices overlapping about celebratory plans. you opt to stay back, enjoying the peace and quiet of the empty locker room after a win.

they were no doubt on their way to a local bar or the team dorm hall to round out what’s been an eventful night. it was a close game, 92-89, but LSU managed to pull through.

your post-game plans, however, involved a little less noise and a lot less people. only one, in fact.

as you exit the athletic building, you spotted just the girl you hoped to see, leaning against the brick wall, eyes focused on her phone.

“you know,” you say as you approach her,” you really shouldn’t be out here all by yourself.”

her head pops up, eyes meeting yours from your position a few feet away from her.

“or what, a pretty girl might run up on me? try and steal another dub?”

“i ain’t steal nothing from you, you just gotta work harder if you don’t want me to take it.”

“ohhh,” she laughs, cocking her head to the side, “it’s like that?”

“yeah, it’s like that,” you reply, stepping closer to the girl.

the two of you hold each other’s gaze, eyes only focused one the other. you let your eyes linger over different parts of her face. the blue in her eyes, dust of heat on the apples of her cheeks, and her lips that were pulled into a smug smile.

“you came here to taunt me or are you gonna give me a hug?”

you couldn’t ignore the smile that spreads across your face as you close the gap between the two of you, wrapping your arms around her waist as hers drape over your shoulders, pulling you in deeply.

the two of you sway a little, rocking further side to side as the hug continues. you only stop when you almost fall over. a fit of giggles escape your lips as you regain balance, a few falling from your girlfriend’s as well.

as your laughs subsides, you pull back, just enough so you can see her face, the only noise being the hum of the outdoor lights surrounding you. you stood there for a moment taking each other in, enjoying one of the limited occasions you could do this face to face.

“you know that foul was bullshit, right?”

“oh, whatever!” you say, moving your hands to her lower abdomen as you push her away.

“you guys needed those two points to match us, it’s alright. just know it won’t happen again.”

“if you really wanna talk about what shouldn’t happen on the court, let’s talk about that little stunt you pulled, hm?” you ask, as a dragged out “alright,” leaves the other girl’s mouth.

“i was just tryna help you up.”

“oh, that’s how you help everyone up?”

paige smacks her teeth, shaking her head as she responds, “don’t act like you weren’t tryna push all up on me.” to which you roll your eyes.

a silence falls over the two of you once again. it’s comfortable and soothing, a stark contrast from the early spring chill that occupied the air around you. and again, you admired each other, doe eyes and warm-hearted smiles covering your faces.

paige lifts one hand to your chin, turning your face towards the light. she could see a small bruise on the underside, a slight frown on her face.

you can tell she feels guilty about the fall, even more so now that she sees the redness forming as a result. you wrap your hand in hers, holding it tenderly. “hey, you didn’t bruise me up too badly, okay?”

“yeah, i know,” she mutters, but her eyes are still fixed your chin.

“if you really wanna make it up to me, you could kiss it better,” you suggest.

her furrowed brows turn to raised ones, a smile lingering as a soft, “oh yeah?” leaves her lips.

“mmhm,” you nod, cupping her face, “c’mere.”

✧

[aealzx]

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Update Post

Prologue | AO3

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“Woah-! Hey- What?” Tucker sputtered, hands flying out to his sides as though he needed to stabilize himself. Needless to say the abrupt teleportation instead of gradual vertical travel caught the Phantom group off guard. Danielle had started floating about a foot off the ground, and Jazz and Sam were looking around uneasily as a computerized voice announced what sounded like a series of serial numbers with ‘and five visitors’ attached to the end. Danny could only look over his hands curiously, as though he weren’t sure if he was still tangible or not. That hadn’t felt like going through the Ghost Portal, it had been much… lighter in feeling almost. And while he personally couldn’t remember going through the break in realm borders that had brought all of them to this realm, the others could attest it was much more gentle and peaceful feeling. But being gentle apparently didn’t excuse the surprise teleportation.

“Was that a teleporter?! You didn’t say anything about teleporting,” Tucker continued to fuss while Sam just tried to roll the tense feeling out of her shoulders and Jazz let out a slow breath to steady herself.

“Oops. Must have slipped our minds,” Stephanie noted, giving them a wink. And if she hadn’t currently had a mask over her nose and mouth Danny wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d added a tongue to that expression. He also didn’t miss how some of them looked mildly apologetic despite all the material shrouding part of their faces. They apparently hadn’t meant to startle any of them with that, so he couldn’t hold it against them.

“Have to admit, I was expecting a long drive,” Danny chuckled mildly, tucking his hands into his pockets. It hadn’t been that bad, and his relaxed response about the situation somehow blanketed the others with a layer of calm. Something that made Bruce’s lips press together in concern. At least Danny’s reaction hadn’t been forced that time. He really didn’t seem to have been bothered at all by the experience.

“This is a lot more cost effective on top of being faster,” Tim responded with a mild chuckle, deliberately not mentioning that it also would have been impossible to drive to the Watchtower.

“That’s an understatement,” Duke laughed, exchanging a look with the others. Their mannerisms caused Sam to narrow her eyes suspiciously, but before she could dwell on the matter too long Jon was unable to contain his excitement.

“C’mon! C’mon! Let’s go!” Jon beckoned, grabbing Danny’s hand from his jacket pocket and tugging him forward. It caused Danny to stumble for the first few steps, but he managed to keep his footing easily enough. Jon at least wasn’t pulling him too quickly, so Danny allowed him to drag him down the hall for now. He wouldn’t be able to keep up that pace the whole time, but for now he didn’t mind indulging in Jon’s overflowing excitement.

“Easy there, Superboy,” Stephanie chided, jogging lightly to catch up as the rest of the group started following them. Danielle even dropped back to the ground to walk with them, at least mildly curious to see where they were despite Sam and Tucker’s nervousness. This place felt a bit too clean, but at least it didn’t smell sterile. Just strangely unused. Like they were in a place restricted from the public. It made them wary, but at least they were with people that they felt they could trust. Everyone that had come with them from Bruce and his family seemed relaxed even if they also seemed like they were anticipating something. A fact that was lightly betrayed by Stephanie pulling her phone out to train the camera on the group, specifically Danny.

It caused Danny to snort, immediately looking away shyly even as Jon continued to drag him along. “What’s with the camera?” he huffed, trying to make light of the situation even though he wasn’t really fond of being recorded.

“It’s your first time in the Watchtower!” Stephanie answered, as if that reminder was the only explanation they needed. When Danny just raised a brow she gave in and gave a little more of an explanation. “The others wanted to see your reaction too, so I gotta record it for them. Don’t worry. Secure connections only,” she assured. She would be lucky to keep the video anyway considering they were in one of their most secure locations.

Danny didn’t see why everyone was apparently interested in his reaction towards being in a big fancy building, but just rolled his eyes and shrugged slightly. “I guess it’s fine,” he relented, just a little reluctantly. They had done a lot for him already. He could indulge them in having a prank video if they had to have one.

“Maybe she thinks because we’re from the countryside that we’ll be amazed by some big fancy corporate building,” Sam muttered to Tucker, her voice not quite low enough for the others to not hear her in the small space of the rather empty hallway. Jazz promptly shushed her and whispered for her to be nice, which earned snickers from Danielle and Duke.

“I dunno. A big city’s big fancy building might be impressive. We’ll give them some benefit of the doubt,” Danielle teased, not even bothering trying to lower her voice.

Stephanie just giggled when Jazz sighed in mild frustration, raising a hand to her head. “Don’t worry, Jazz. Sarcasm is a love language,” she assured, waving a hand dismissively. This wasn’t supposed to be a stressful trip, so it would be good if Jazz didn’t feel like she had to control everyone like they were children on a field trip. ‘When Jazz just gave her an apologetic but grateful look, Stephanie gave her a thumbs up and glanced to see how close they were to their first destination. “And you’ll see soon enough just how impressive our big fancy building is,” she partially announced, realizing they were just one more turn away from the communal dining area they had decided to bring them all to first.

As Jon subconsciously sped up, Stephanie quickly jogged far enough ahead of him and Danny so she could get a good view with her camera. The scene behind her was one she had seen many times before, so she didn’t even glance at it, focusing on her recording as Jon dragged a mildly protesting Danny out from the hallway.

“J- Superboy, not so fast,” Danny was starting to request, obviously feeling bad for having to put a damper on the lad’s energy.

But Jon had already let go of his hand in favor of running ahead to pose in front of them, holding his hands out to display the view they had walked into and chiming a cheerful,“Tadaaa~”

Danny didn’t need any more direction to shift his gaze further into the room, a particular sight pulling his gaze far past the tables and chairs and straight to the not actually a wall directly opposite to them. Without Jon to pull him forward Danny had slowed to a stop, his eyes widening significantly as he sucked in a tight breath of awe, his entire being captivated by the most beautiful sight he’d ever laid eyes on. He barely registered the rest of the group filling into the room after him, gaze locked on the expanse of space stretching out over more than half of the room’s walls, unobstructed by any form of pollution or atmosphere beyond simple planes of perfectly cleaned glass. Inky blackness mottled with blues, violets, pinks, flashes of color curled into clouds of distant galaxies. A freckling of stars scattered over the expanse, flaring bright in the absence of their own sun on this side of the Watchtower. An unearthly canvas of celestial artwork with a crisp clarity no camera on earth could capture.

“Woah… Interesting choice for a wall screen display,” Tucker commented, momentarily breaking through Danny’s daze while having noticed the same thing. How could he not? It was taking up 90% of the wall across from them, even curving to encompass more of the dining room full of tables, chairs and a modest kitchen area.

“That’s not a screen…,” Danny breathed in an almost reverent breathlessness as his body was kept still until now only by the small strain of disbelief telling him there was no way that was real. But as he was starting to subconsciously pick out different aspects of the universe that he could recognize, nestled in the black curtain exactly where they should be, he absently started to walk slowly towards the window.

There was no way.

But there was also no way anything like this could be fake.

“Correct. That is not a digital display,” Damian confirmed when no one else seemed willing to break the silence.

Danny had taken several steps away from them by now, stopping only because he realized he was leaving the group as he glanced behind him to ask for another confirmation to banish his doubt. “That’s a window!”

“Thaaaat’s a window!” Duke drew out his response, a huge smile as he watched Danny slowly realize his childhood dream had come true.

“We’re in SPACE!” Danny blurted, one last confirmation to solidify what he already knew. Energy from somewhere he didn’t know building in his form and causing his hands to raise halfway.

“We’re in space!” Stephanie chimed cheerfully along with him, no longer able to keep her giggles down any longer and giving a small jump. Something that caused Tim to reach over and take her phone to keep the recording steady while she bounced up and down.

“JAZZ!” Danny hollered, completely unable to hold back the pure elation that had built up into his entire existence, spilling over as soon as his doubt was confirmed to be unfounded. “WE’RE IN SPA-AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” His repeated exclamation broke into a single, overwhelmed scream of joy as he swung his hands in front of him, new found energy spilling out in a display of childish glee as he jumped up and down a few times.

Jazz couldn’t help snorting, blessedly distracted from the fact they were no longer within the range of Earth’s gravity by her brother’s childish bliss. She didn’t know what to say, not quite able to believe it herself just yet. But she didn’t need to say anything, for Danny’s hands stopped waving in the air to momentarily clutch his hair as he whipped around to look out the window again. And then he turned to her once more to scream a shorter “AAHHHHHAHA!!” of joy before abruptly leaping fully into the air, bolting across the room to plaster himself against the window higher than any of them could reach from the floor.

“Oh my gawd,” Sam gave an ugly snort, covering her mouth with her hand, Danny’s departure from them breaking her from her own daze.

“Oookay, now I know why you guys were being all secretive about where this place was,” Tucker chuckled, only partially able to catch a few words that Danny was rambling as he pointed out different parts of the universe he could pick out.

At least until he turned to look at them and shout, “I CAN SEE MARS WITH MY EYEBALLS FROM HERE!” before looking back out the window, adjusting his position and pointing. “AND THERE’S BETELGEUSE AND RIGEL!”

None of them could really tell what Danny was pointing to, only those who knew what he was talking about already and could find the planet and stars on their own could see them. But it didn’t stop them from laughing.

“Yeah, we wanted to surprise him,” Duke confirmed, chuckling while watching Danny float around the window almost like a trapped moth drawn by light, rambling something or other about a red star and a blue one and the difference between the two.

“And I admit it was pretty worth it,” Tim added with a grin. Had Danny switched to talking about supernovas now? And something about Betelgeuse partially exploding? This kid really knew his stuff apparently.

By this point Danny had flitted around to various parts of the window, trying to get a better view while he was able to. The glass was clean, and since he was in his ghost form he wasn’t leaving any fingerprints when he was smashed against the glass. But it still made it hard to see other angles, and he found himself wondering if he could survive if he went outside. He could become intangible after all, and that had saved him from being affected by rather extreme environments already. And the biggest dangers of space were the lack of oxygen and no air pressure. Things that also didn’t matter when he was intangible.

So after a moment of consideration Danny’s impulsive brain reasoned he could at least test his hypothesis, and he stuck his hand through the window.

“Did he just-,” Jazz started, squinting as she thought she could see Danny flexing his hand on the other side of the window. It was a little hard to see considering how clean the glass was, but he was unusually focused on his hand.

And then, after realizing he was indeed fine if he stayed intangible, Danny slipped through the glass all the way.

“DANNY!” Jazz almost screeched, running forward despite having no idea what she would do about the situation. So much for anonymity, but luckily no one else was there yet to hear her.

Naturally Danny couldn’t hear her, but despite that still turned around to wave at them, gesturing to himself and then the literal space behind him in just as much if not more excitement than when he’d first realized they were in space.

Bruce could only sigh away the sudden spike of panic that had increased his heart rate as his main charge just launched himself into the void without a proper spacesuit, and moved forward to rest a calming hand on Jazz’s shoulder. Raising a finger to his communicator, he linked into the channel buzzing about a ‘foreign entity outside the Watchtower’ alert they had all just gotten, addressing that issue first. “It’s fine, it’s just Phantom. He’s new. Green Lantern, can you come keep an eye on him? It’s his first time in space,” he reported, gruffly cutting through the buzz of startled chatter.

“Ohhhh, the visitor today. Gotcha,” Hal’s voice chimed back. “I’ll be right there.”

“Could have warned us he’d go outside,” Barry chided with a chuckle. “Good thinking to bring him this early if he’s that excited though. Where are the rest?”

“With me,” Bruce confirmed, looking down to make sure the other four were indeed still with him. Jazz still seemed about ready to pop from stress, but Bruce’s gaze was caught by the sight of Danielle literally vibrating where she stood, staring up at him with huge eyes.

“....Can I go explore the ship?” Danielle half squeaked when she noticed Bruce finally look at her. She was trying to be patient, and not cause trouble, so that they could see she could be well behaved and therefore wouldn’t have any issues at all with her request.

Bruce could only stare for a moment. Right. Danielle was a lot like Danny. She hadn’t openly expressed as much interest in space as Danny had, so they hadn’t thought she would have been that excited over it. But it seemed she was more interested in the Watchtower itself right then than going out to explore the surroundings like her brother.

“I can take her,” Duke offered, noting Bruce’s reluctance, and Tim nodded in agreement to join them, passing Stephanie’s phone back to her

With a slightly heavy sigh, Bruce just nodded in reluctant relent.

“Yeeeeesssssss,” Danielle hissed, grabbing Duke’s and Jon’s hands and running to the nearest hallway, Damien trailing behind them. Jon gave a mild squawk at being grabbed, but otherwise laughed and eagerly joined in on the trip.

“Is he okay?” Jazz finally managed to wheeze, still staring at her brother.

“He’s fine,” Bruce assured, figuring Danny had been smart and made sure he would be okay before throwing himself into space, and also seeing that the lad was showing zero signs of distress. It wasn’t at all surprising to see he was able to be out in space without specialized gear either. There were a few other people that frequented the Watchtower that could do the same after all. One of which was now visible through the window, approaching Danny. “Green Lantern will keep track of him and make sure he stays safe,” Bruce added, gesturing to the green clad hero.

Seeing someone else out in the void with her brother did a lot to calm Jazz down, and Sam and Tucker even relaxed without having realized they had been tense.

“Hey there kiddo,” Hal greeted when he was close enough to Danny to be noticed. He was keeping a polite distance from the lad at first, and making sure Danny noticed him just in case he was someone that startled easily. “I’m Green Lantern, and I’m just here to keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t get lost.”

To Hal’s minor surprise, Danny just waved excitedly at him in greeting before gesturing to the Watchtower window, then the expanse of space to the opposite direction. The way he was waving his hands and his eyes were expressing Hal imagined he was animatedly trying to say something. But he apparently didn’t have any method to make sound be heard by others, so his words were effectively muted. A fact Danny soon noticed, and paused to rest a hand on his throat.

“You can tell me about it later,” Hal assured when Danny paused, realizing no one could hear him. “My abilities are what allow me to talk out here. Wanna see the rest of the Watchtower? I can show you around,” he offered. He might be able to figure out a device that allowed him to hear the lad, but for now he figured he could focus on letting the boy explore. Kids were easier to manage when they weren’t heavily distracted by something after all.

Hal ended up chuckling in amusement when Danny immediately began nodding enthusiastically. Raising a hand back to his comms, Hal faced the others inside and waved. “We’re gonna go sightseeing,” he reported to Bruce, giving a thumbs up as well to confirm that Danny was just fine. “I’ll bring him back when we’re done.” 

“Just make sure you don’t run him too hard. He’s recovering from injury.” Bruce responded in caution, not wanting Danny to wear himself out to the point of reversing some of his recovery progress.

“Gotcha,” Hal nodded, turning back to Danny and gesturing for him to follow. “Ready?”

Danny nodded again, and had to blink and rub his eyes when he realized they had started to water. He wasn’t upset, just pleasantly overwhelmed. Which caused him to giggle silently when the salt water bubbles wiggled sporadically in the void after getting brushed away from his face. He had to poke one just for fun before eagerly darting after Hal.

“Awh, he’s crying,” Stephanie giggled, having noticed Danny’s predicament before he was out of sight.

“He’s very happy,” Cass beamed proudly.

“That he is. Mission success,” Stephanie agreed, raising a hand to high five Cass and celebrate their accomplishment.

________________

I was too impatient to wait for my beta reader's internet to want to work |'D So there might be more typos or wonky stuff than usual.

I'm so happy that people immediately realized this was going to be a Danny in space chapter X'D

Random facts/music share. I struggled so hard writing this at first because I can't write without music and all the music I had was not the right mood. So I ended up spamming Battle Scars by Paradise Fears while writing the first pass of this. It was the only song I had that had the right vibes X'D Alternatively when drawing the pic I spammed The City Holds My Heart by Ghostly Kisses

Also I was caught off guard with how many people loved Danny's space pants in the last pic X'DDD I wish I knew of some real ones or a way to submit custom ones for people to get, but I have no idea about that.

___________

Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, 

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics, @ehobep, @paranoid-ira

[likeamaya]

can i just say that as someone who got interested in the sonic universe only after the movies i LOVED the series?

seriously i read SO MANY complaints about the series from sonic’s fans and they make it sound so damn serious.

it was fun, it was nice and most importantly we got to see knuckles having fun and getting friends with wade and his family.

LOOK AT HIM. THE DEFINITION OF CUTENESS.

he has always been on the run, he has been ALL ALONE since his father and whole tribe died. he is not used to a normal, peaceful life. and he obviously feels overwhelmed because, despite sonic and the wachowski’s best intentions, they simply can’t understand how strange and different this all is for him.

and thanks to wade he got to feel a bit more comfortable and carefree. wade didn’t tell him what he was supposed to do to get accostumed to earth. instead, he showed him how much fun it could be if he let his guard down. and so knuckles got to act silly and open up to someone who, despite the obvious differences, he could relate to.

so yeah, there obviously were times in which i was like “where the heck is me boy?”.

but when i read people defining the series as “ridiculous” or “trash” i get pissed. it was good enough, sonic’s veteran fans gotta chill.

ALSO

she called him “one of her kids”. KNUCKLES WACHOWSKI CONFIRMED. WE KEEP ON WINNING Y’ALL.

[darlinluxx]

𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 ౨ৎ

pairing : kang sae byeok x fem!reader

fluff

warnings : none

summary : you and your girlfriend decide to take a late night walk in the summertime

a/n : missing summer :( also in this she won the games cause why not

if you have any requests, feel free to message me <3

𝐓he city hummed with a low, thrumming energy, even at the late hour. the air, thick and heavy with summer’s humid breath, wrapped around Saebyeok and you like a warm blanket. streetlights cast pools of amber light, painting long, distorted shadows that danced with your footsteps.

Saebyeok, usually so cold and stoic, felt a strange sense of relaxation seep into her bones. the familiar tension in her shoulders eased a fraction, replaced by the quiet comfort of your presence by her side. she glanced over at you, her heart doing a small, unexpected flip.

You, with your soft, expressive features and a cascade of hair that framed your face, was the antithesis of everything Saebyeok was. where Saebyeok was sharp edges and guarded glances, you were gentle curves and an open heart. you wore a flowing, floral dress that seemed to catch every stray breeze, making you look like you’d stepped out of a summer painting. the contrast, Saebyeok mused, was both jarring and utterly perfect.

You linked your arm with Saebyeok’s, your touch light and reassuring. “it’s so nice out, isn’t it?” your voice was soft, like the rustling of leaves.

“yeah.” Saebyeok said quietly, her voice low. but a small, almost imperceptible smile played on her lips. she wouldn’t admit it, but she was happy. back in the bleakness of the games, any notion of peace or beauty had been a distant dream. now, here she was, walking hand in arm with someone she genuinely cared about, under a starlight sky. the absurdity of it all wasn’t lost on her, but this time, the absurdity felt good.

you two walked in comfortable silence, the only sounds the gentle slap of your shoes against the pavement and the distant rumble of a car. Saebyeok watched you as you occasionally plucked a stray leaf from a low-hanging branch, your fingers delicate and graceful. she thought about how you had been a lifeline, pulling her out of the darkness that had threatened to consume her. you’d seen the vulnerability beneath Saebyeok’s tough exterior, the pain she tried so hard to hide, and had held on, refusing to let go.

“are you okay?” you asked, tilting your head. your eyes were full of concern

Saebyeok looked away, embarrassed that she’d been caught staring. “yeah. why wouldn’t i be?”

you chuckled. “i just thought you liked a little pensive.” you stopped walking to face Saebyeok, your gaze unwavering. “you don’t have to pretend with me, you know? i know things are still hard.”

Saebyeok’s jaw tightened. she hated that you knew her so well, hated that you could see right through her carefully constructed walls. but she also appreciated it, deep down, with a firefly possessive protectiveness.

“it’s different,” Saebyeok admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “being like this. normal.” the word felt foreign on her tongue.

you reached out and took Saebyeok’s hand, your fingers intertwining with hers. your touch was a silent promise - a promise of understanding, of acceptance, of love. “normal is beautiful, Sae. and you deserve all the beauty in the world.”

Saebyeok couldn’t quite meet your gaze, her heart feeling like it might burst from her chest. she was used to violence, to betrayal, to having to be strong. but this, this soft vulnerability, this quiet intimacy, was both terrifying and undeniably intoxicating.

the two of you continued walking, the silence no longer heavy but filled with unspoken words and shared emotions. you passed by a brightly lit corner store, and you squeezed Saebyeok’s hand. “let’s get ice cream,” you said, your eyes sparkling with mischievous delight.

Saebyeok, despite herself, found a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. it wasn’t the forced, predatory smile she had worn in the games. it was a real smile, a genuine expression of joy.

she nodded, letting you lead her towards the store, the humid air suddenly feeling lighter, the city’s hum suddenly softer, and a sense of something akin to peace settling deep within her soul. the world outside could be cruel and unforgiving, but here, in the gentle warmth of your love, Saebyeok found a refuge, a haven where she could finally just be. and in that quiet summer night, walking hand in hand with you, she finally understood that maybe, just maybe, she could truly be free.

[starogeorgina]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

Pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen x reader

Warnings: Swearing

1.05

You and Aegon stand side by side at the stables, watching as Ghost and Sunfyre fly together over the castle grounds; at times their bodies look joined together as they swirl in circles so closely, the gold and ivory blending together beautifully.

“Perhaps they can be our children.”

Aegon scoffs, “The queen wants a grandchild from your womb, not one with scales.”

Your wedding would be held in a week, and Alicent was nothing but persistent that you give Aegon an heir immediately, specifically a male heir, which terrifies you. What exactly would happen if you had a girl? It’s not as if you could choose what gender the babe would be. You didn’t like feeling this type of pressure, and neither did Aegon; he was becoming moody and drinking more than normal.

He observes your cream saddle being cleaned by a stable boy and groans. “How come you don’t need to attend your lessons today, but I do?”

“Because I got permission. Besides, you really need to practice High Valyrian.”

Aegon rolls his eyes. “I know the basics.”

“Our dragons deserve better than basic.“

Sunfyre was the only breathing creature Aegon truly loved; being with his golden dragon was the only time he looked at peace, content even. Even the dragon keepers were mesmerised by how close their bond was.

“And it might be fun; we could speak in a room full of people without them knowing what we are saying.”

“Like badmouthing the guests at our own wedding?” He jests.

“Exactly,” you laugh.

You step up onto the gate so that you can look into the pen. You had always been interested in horses, but it was only recently that you were permitted to go out riding outside the castle walls with a member of the king's guard accompanying you. Your grip suddenly tightens on the gate when you feel it start to move.

Aegon laughs; he was shaking the gate. “Don’t tell me you got a fright.”

“I didn't,” you notice the staff in the stables glancing over. “Aegon behave."

“I have been thus far,” he grins.

“Prince Aegon,” Ser Criston makes his presence known. “Best be going before you’re late to your lessons.”

Letting go of the gate, Aegon mumbles something under his breath, then sulks as he walks away. Ser Criston raises his brows, and you jump off the gate. The knight tries to keep his face straight, but it’s clear he found it funny when a small smile creeps onto his face.

The knight places his arms behind his back. “Time to go, princess.”

—

“Is something wrong, princess?”

“No…”

Usually you enjoy horseback riding, but something Aegon said stuck inside your head and was distracting you. It hadn’t taken long to reach the grounds where tourneys were held; you were surprised to see decorations in preparation for a large celebration had already begun. You watch as three young men struggle to move a large sculpture that’s in the shape of a house Targaryen symbol.

Ser Criston moves so he is in your line of view. “Princess, is it your betrothal that’s troubling you?”

“No, Aegon has been... well, Aegon.”

“You’ve been unusually quiet lately,” he says softly.

“Has it ever occurred to you, Ser Criston, that if a girl is young enough that she needs permission to leave her lessons, that she’s too young to be a bare child? Because it has to me.”

He sighs, “To the left, I wish to show you something.”

“What is it?”

He doesn’t reply. You watch for a few seconds as his dark horse takes him further towards the forest. When the knight and his horse become much smaller than your own, you decide it’s time to start following him.

—

“Just like this?”

“Bend your elbow a little lower.”

A wide smile spreads across your face when the stone you toss towards the lake skims over the water instead of sinking. Instead of going the normal route, the knight took you down to a small lake you'd never known existed. It was a warm day, but the light breeze was enough to keep you comfortable.

When you first saw the knight tethering smooth stones, you doubted this would be enjoyable, but you were wrong. “I must admit this is rather fun.”

“My father taught me to skim stones when I was a boy.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Yes, my mother died when I was young, and it was just the two of us until I became a foot soldier.” He fidgets with the stone in his hand before skimming it over the water. “It can be difficult with fathers; I’ve seen many men regret how they’ve treated their children once they've grown old.”

“I doubt King Viserys will lose much sleep over it. We haven’t spoken since Driftmark.”

There’s a rustle in the bushes close by, but when you look over, a baby deer appears. Its dark doe eyes stare at you until a larger deer comes up behind it, probably its mother. The two of them scurry off quickly to find isolation away from humans.

“I wasn’t at court long before Queen Aemma died, but from what I remember she had a soft face, and she was known to be kind.”

“I’m scared I’ll end up like her,” you admit. “I could fall pregnant quickly after marrying Aegon and die in the birthing bed within the year like she did.”

Ser Criston picks up another stone to throw. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t believe Prince Aegon would make the same decision King Viserys did.”

—

You storm into the king's royal apartments, anger radiating through you so violently that your body shakes. King Viserys notices you and smiles, “Ahh, there’s my daughter.”

“Is it true?”

Otto Hightower and the maester share a look. Your father turns and nods at them, and they both hurry to leave, the few servants in the room doing the same.

Your father looks defeated already. “Is that true?”

“How my mother died. You said it was my fault, but it wasn’t.”

“Do not test me, daughter,” he says harshly. “I will not have my late wife’s name brought up in some childish way.“

You couldn't contain your tears as you struggled to speak. “How could you do this to me?” You choke out between sobs. “Both you and Rhaenyra let me believe my mother died giving birth to me, but she didn’t. She gave birth to me naturally, and then Baelon got stuck, and you chose to let the maesters cut her open so you could have a son.”

“Who told you this?”

Ser Criston was the only one who told you the truth—the whole truth—that queen Aemma was butchered while conscious. You weren’t going to get the knight into trouble by admitting it was him.

“Is that all you care about? What do other people think? What about me?” You may have sounded selfish, but he needed to know what this guilt has done to you. “I’ve blamed myself; I thought I killed her, and not once did you tell me otherwise.”

When he says nothing, you shake your head and go to leave, but hesitantly, the king calls after you. “Rhaenyra never knew; I didn’t want her knowing the truth.”

Your heart hammers in your chest. Learning that he cared more about what your sister thought than you was nothing new.

“Your mother used to laugh because the moment it was announced she was with a child, Rhaenyra declared that she was to have a sister; she wanted to name you Visenya, but Aemma disagreed. They went back and forth many times.”

“I’ve always loved my sister, and yet she’s always looked at me and saw the monster that took her mother from her.”

“No, that’s not true,” his eyes start to glisten. “If Aemma had lived, she would have doted on you; she would have cherished and loved you.”

“Perhaps you would have as well, if she had lived.”

—

Curled up in your bed clutching onto one of your pillows, you continue to sob and only open your eyes when there’s a knock at your door. A few seconds later, it’s opened by your lady-in-waiting, who was sitting with you previously.

“Who is it, Flora?”

“Prince Aegon.”

You think about moving but decide it’s too much energy and remain in the same position. You weren’t upset anymore; all of your sadness had turned to anger hours ago, but you had nowhere for that feeling to go.

Flora lets him in, and soon Aegon spots you. He rolls his eyes and sighs, “I could hear you crying from down the hall.”

You say nothing. Aegon comes over and sits somewhat awkwardly next to you on the bed, lifting the pillow your head is resting on and placing it onto his lap. When he feels you relax into his touch, Aegon starts gently brushing your hair with his fingers, which, in contrast to his wild, unkempt hair, was soft and smooth.

After a few moments, you finally speak, “My septa told me true strength lies in silence.”

“The blood of the dragon runs deep, and I fear it is a burden to feel things so deeply.”

Intrigued, you tilt your head to face him. “Do you feel things deeply?”

“No, but I don’t like seeing you distressed. It reminds me of when Sunfyre hurt his wing.”

“Oh.”

He makes a tsk sound, “Viserys is a fool.”

“He is the king.”

“And the king is a cunt. There are no victors for those who want his approval or attention.” Aegon leans down till his lips are ghosting your ear, “The way to stop hurting is by not letting anyone in.”

“That sounds awfully lonely.”

He shrugs, sitting upright and straightening his shoulders. Perhaps Aegon was right, but you liked the thought that one day he would let you in.

[darksturnz]

BETWEEN THE CRACKS

CONTENTS:・teeth rotting fluff-heavy plot (again..) ・star!reader ・mild language ・mentions of death/hospitals・artist!chris ・mild language + more WC: 3.6k masterlist: here

slightly a part two to this, and once again, highly recommend you listen to this on repeat as that’s what i did.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, painting faint streaks of gold across the small, cluttered room. Star stirred, her body caught between the pull of sleep and the growing awareness of something unfamiliar. Warmth.

Her eyes fluttered open, her breath catching as she realized she wasn’t alone. Chris’s arm was slung loosely around her waist, his hand resting on the fabric of her shirt like a promise he hadn’t meant to make. His face was inches from hers, his expression uncharacteristically peaceful in sleep, the usual tension smoothed from his features.

For a moment, she froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She’d spent years perfecting the art of keeping people at arm’s length, of never letting anyone close enough to see the cracks beneath the surface— besides madison of course. And yet, here she was, tangled up with Chris Sturniolo of all people—the guarded, gruff boy who never smiled, never laughed, and yet somehow felt safer than anyone she’d ever known.

Her gaze flicked over his face, taking in the faint scar along his jawline, the way his dark lashes rested against his cheekbones. He looked softer like this. Human, even. It was a stark contrast to the sharp edges he usually wore like armor.

She swallowed hard, unsure of what to do. The rational part of her wanted to slip away, to put distance between them before he woke and they had to confront whatever this was. But the softer, quieter part of her—the part she tried so hard to ignore—didn’t want to move.

Her hand rested against his chest, and she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. It was grounding, in a way, and terrifying all at once.

Chris shifted slightly in his sleep, his arm tightening around her for just a moment before his eyes opened.

Star froze again, her breath hitching as his gaze met hers. For a split second, there was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, a glimpse of something raw and unguarded. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a sort of quiet confusion.

“Morning,” he muttered, his voice rough and low from sleep.

Star blinked, the sound of his voice snapping her out of whatever trance she’d been in. “Morning,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Neither of them moved. The silence between them felt heavy, but not uncomfortable—more like the weight of something unspoken, something fragile.

Chris glanced down at her hand still resting against his chest, his brows furrowing slightly. A faint, almost self-deprecating smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t mean to, uh, hold you captive,” he said, his voice gruff but tinged with awkward humor.

Star felt her cheeks flush, but she didn’t pull away. A ghost of a smile flickered across her lips. “You didn’t,” she murmured, her voice quieter than she meant it to be. “I didn’t mind.”

That quiet admission settled between them like a secret, one neither of them was ready to unpack.

Chris finally shifted, breaking the silence but not the closeness entirely. “m’gonna make coffee,” he muttered, his voice softer now, as if the moment had chipped away some of his usual defenses.

Star stayed where she was, staring up at the ceiling as the sound of his footsteps retreated into the kitchen. Her chest felt tight, her thoughts swirling with feelings she wasn’t ready to name.

This was dangerous. She knew that. Letting someone in, even a little, was a risk she couldn’t afford to take. And yet, as she traced her fingers over the wrinkle in the sheet where Chris had been, she couldn’t help but feel the faintest flicker of something that felt an awful lot like hope.

The coffee maker sputtered weakly, its rhythmic bubbling filling the small trailer as Chris leaned against the counter, staring blankly at the chipped mug in his hand. He wasn’t sure why he’d said what he had back in the room. Didn’t mean to hold you captive. It wasn’t like him to really joke—at least not in a situation like that.

But Star did something to him. Slowly, without permission, she had slipped past all the defenses he’d spent years building. He didn’t know how to navigate it, the strange pull he felt toward her. It was terrifying. Maddening. But when he heard her footsteps padding softly into the kitchen, a part of him—the part he didn’t like to acknowledge—felt calmer.

Star lingered in the doorway, watching him. The faint smile she’d worn earlier had faded, replaced by something quieter, more thoughtful. “You okay?” she asked, her voice soft.

Chris turned his head, meeting her eyes. There was a vulnerability in her question, like she wasn’t just asking about him but testing the waters to see if it was okay for her to stay. He nodded once, setting the mug down. “Yeah. You want some?” He gestured to the coffee maker.

She shook her head. “I’m good.”

The moment stretched between them, warm and unspoken. Chris cleared his throat, turning back to the counter. “Lila should be up soon,” he said, his voice gruff again.

“Right,” Star murmured. She hesitated before stepping closer, leaning against the opposite side of the counter. “Do you think she’ll want pancakes?”

Chris raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “She always wants pancakes.”

Star chuckled softly, and the sound did something to him—something he didn’t have words for.

Lila emerged a little while later, her brown curls a tangled mess and her eyes puffy with sleep. She dragged her blanket behind her like a cape, rubbing at her face as she padded into the kitchen.

“Morning, Bug,” Chris said, his tone softer now.

Lila mumbled something incomprehensible, then perked up when she saw Star standing by the stove. “Star!” she exclaimed, her voice brightening.

Star turned, crouching slightly to meet Lila’s excited gaze. “Morning, Lil.”

Lila giggled, abandoning her blanket to run over and wrap her arms around Star’s legs. “Are you making pancakes?”

Chris smirked from his spot by the counter. “Told you.”

Star rolled her eyes at him before turning her attention back to Lila. “Only if you promise to help me flip them.”

Lila gasped, nodding vigorously. “I’m the best flipper!”

Chris chuckled, the sound low and brief, but it made Star’s chest feel strangely warm. She caught his eye for a moment, and something passed between them—a silent acknowledgment of how natural this felt.

After breakfast, the three of them settled into their usual rhythm. Lila spent time coloring on the living room floor while Chris worked on a sketch at the small table near the window. Star watched them from her spot on the couch, feeling an odd sense of belonging she hadn’t felt in years.

It was Lila who broke the comfortable silence. She climbed into Chris’s lap, her coloring book in hand. “Can we go see Mommy today?” she asked softly, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

Chris set his pencil down, his expression softening. “Yeah, Bug. We can go.”

Lila hesitated, twisting a curl around her finger. “Can Star come too?”

Chris blinked, caught off guard by the request. His eyes flicked to Star, who sat very still, her gaze carefully neutral. He hadn’t expected Lila to ask, and he wasn’t sure if Star would even want to go.

Star hesitated, her stomach twisting. The last time she’d been in a hospital, her mother had died. Just the thought of stepping into those sterile halls again made her chest tighten.

But then Lila turned to her, her wide eyes filled with hope. “Please, Star? Mommy would like you,” she said softly.

Chris didn’t say anything, but he watched Star closely, his brow furrowed as if he was trying to figure her out.

Star exhaled shakily, forcing a small smile. “Yeah,” she said finally. “I’ll come.”

The hospital was as stark and sterile as Star had expected. Every step inside felt heavier than the last, memories pressing down on her chest like a weight she couldn’t shake. She kept her gaze fixed on Lila, who walked ahead with her small hand clasped in Chris’s.

When they reached Evelyn’s room, Star hesitated just outside the door. She could hear the steady hum of machines, the faint murmur of voices, and her heart began to race.

“You okay?” Chris’s voice broke through her spiraling thoughts.

She glanced at him, nodding quickly. “Yeah.”

Chris studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before pushing the door open.

Lila ran ahead, her voice bright. “Mommy!”

The woman lying in the bed was pale and frail, her breathing shallow as she smiled weakly at her daughter. Star lingered by the door, unsure of where to stand or what to do.

“Hi, sweet girl,” Evelyn murmured, her voice thin but warm.

Chris crossed the room to stand by her bedside, his hand resting lightly on Lila’s shoulder. He glanced back at Star, his gaze expectant.

Star swallowed hard and stepped forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Hi,” she said softly, her voice trembling just enough for Chris to notice. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Evelyn’s eyes flicked to Chris, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “You must be Star,” she said. “Lila talks about you all the time.”

Star blinked, surprised. “She does?”

Lila nodded enthusiastically. “Uh-huh! I told Mommy how you make pancakes and how you help me with my drawings.”

Star felt her cheeks flush, but she smiled. “Well, you’re a pretty great artist, Lil.”

Evelyn chuckled softly, the sound weak but genuine. “You’re very sweet,” she said, her eyes lingering on Star for a moment before shifting to Chris.

Chris stayed quiet, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, but his gaze was fixed on Star. He watched the way she interacted with his mom—how gentle and respectful she was, how she seemed to genuinely care. She didn’t notice Chris watching her, but he couldn’t look away. There was something about the way she fit into this moment, into his life, that scared him and comforted him all at once.

Star sat on the edge of the chair near Evelyn’s bedside, her posture tentative but open. She folded her hands tightly in her lap, unsure if she should lean closer or stay where she was. The machines hooked up to Evelyn hummed softly in the background, their rhythmic beeping both comforting and unsettling.

Lila was perched at the foot of the hospital bed, her sketchbook open as she chattered away about her latest masterpiece. Star leaned in to admire it when Lila held it up, a messy swirl of crayons resembling what Lila insisted was a butterfly.

“It’s beautiful,” Star said softly, smiling at the little girl.

“It’s for Mommy,” Lila announced proudly.

Chris shifted by the wall, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You better get it framed, Mom. Bug’s a professional now.”

Evelyn laughed quietly, her gaze flicking from Lila to Chris. “I might just do that,” she murmured. Her voice was tired, but there was something about the way she looked at her son—pride mingled with sadness.

Star could feel it—the heaviness in the air, the weight Chris carried every time he walked into this room. She glanced at him briefly, catching the way his jaw clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides as if he wanted to do more but couldn’t.

After a while, Lila climbed into the chair on Star’s lap, distracted by her coloring book. Evelyn turned her attention to Star, her soft gaze curious but kind.

“So, y/n,” Evelyn began, her voice gentle, “how long have you been putting up with my son?”

Star blinked, caught off guard by the question. She glanced at Chris, who rolled his eyes but didn’t protest.

“Um… a few months now,” Star replied, a small, nervous smile tugging at her lips. “He doesn’t make it too hard.”

Evelyn chuckled, though it quickly turned into a cough. Chris straightened, his brow furrowing as he stepped closer to the bed. “Mom,” he said quietly, his voice edged with concern.

“I’m fine,” Evelyn assured him, waving a weak hand. She turned back to Star, her expression softening. “It’s good he has someone around. Lila talks about you like your family.”

Star froze, her chest tightening. Family. The word felt foreign, like something she couldn’t quite hold onto. She forced a small laugh, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Lila’s easy to love,” she said, her voice quieter now.

Chris caught that—the slight tremor in her voice, the way her eyes shifted down to her hands. He didn’t say anything, but he stayed close, his presence steady even if his words weren’t.

As Star talked with Evelyn, Chris found himself studying her. She was nervous—he could tell by the way her fingers twisted the hem of her hoodie, the way her shoulders tensed every time Evelyn asked her a question. But she didn’t shy away.

She met his mom’s gaze, listened intently, and responded with a quiet respect that wasn’t forced. Chris wasn’t used to that. Most people tiptoed around his mom, either out of pity or discomfort. But Star just… was.

And it was the way she was with Lila that got to him the most. She didn’t treat her like a kid to be humored but like someone worth listening to, worth spending time with. It reminded him of how his mom used to be before the illness took so much from her.

That feeling in his gut—the one that twisted and ached every time Star was around—was back. He didn’t know what to do with it, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall, trying to look indifferent.

When it was time to leave, Evelyn hugged Lila as tightly as her strength would allow, kissing her forehead and whispering something that made Lila giggle. Chris bent down to press a quick kiss to his mom’s cheek, murmuring something Star couldn’t hear.

As they walked out of the room, Star lingered for a moment, glancing back at Evelyn. The older woman smiled at her, her gaze warm but knowing, as if she could see straight through Star’s guarded walls.

“You’re good for them,” Evelyn said softly.

Star felt her cheeks flush. “They’re good for me,” she murmured with a soft smile before turning to follow Chris and Lila.

The walk back to the car was quiet. Lila held Chris’s hand, skipping slightly as she hummed a tune Star didn’t recognize. Chris opened the passenger door for Star without a word, his hand brushing hers briefly as she climbed in.

The car ride back was quieter than usual. Lila dozed off in the backseat, her head lolling against the window, her sketchbook clutched tightly in her lap.

Star stared out the window, her thoughts swirling. The hospital had stirred up memories she hadn’t wanted to face, but it had also given her something unexpected—connection. She glanced at Chris, his profile sharp and focused as he drove.

“Your mom’s really kind,” she said softly, breaking the silence.

Chris’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, but his voice was even when he replied. “Yeah. She is.”

Star hesitated, her fingers playing with the frayed hem of her jeans. “Thanks for letting me come,” she said quietly.

Chris glanced at her briefly, his expression unreadable. “She liked you,” he said simply. “Kinda knew she would.”

Star’s chest tightened at the admission. She wanted to say more, to ask what he meant, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she rested her hand lightly on the console between them, her fingers brushing his briefly.

Chris didn’t pull away.

The trailer was quiet when they got back. Chris carried Lila inside, her small body heavy with sleep as her head lolled against his shoulder. Star followed, closing the door softly behind her. The familiar warmth of the space wrapped around her, a stark contrast to the sterile chill of the hospital.

Chris gently laid Lila on her bed, brushing her curls back from her face. She stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent before curling into the blankets. Star hovered near the door, unsure if she should help or stay out of the way, but Chris glanced back at her.

“Can you grab Bug’s stuffed bunny? s’over by the couch,” he said quietly.

Star nodded, moving to retrieve the well-loved bunny that Lila never slept without. When she handed it to Chris, their fingers brushed, and she caught the faintest flicker of a smile on his lips.

Chris tucked the bunny into Lila’s arms and adjusted the blanket over her shoulders. “Night, Bug,” he murmured.

“’Night,” Lila mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

Star watched from the doorway, her heart twisting at the tenderness in Chris’s actions. He moved so easily between his rough edges and these softer moments, and she felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite name.

When Lila was settled, Chris turned off the light, leaving the door slightly ajar. He stepped into the hallway, his gaze meeting Star’s briefly before he nodded toward the porch.

“C’mon,” he said, his voice low.

The air outside was crisp but not cold, the faint scent of pine and earth lingering in the night. Star leaned against the wooden railing, her arms crossed over her chest as she looked out at the dark expanse beyond the trailer park.

Chris stood beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet settling around them like a blanket.

“You okay?” he asked finally, his voice soft.

Star hesitated, her fingers tightening around the edge of the railing. “Yeah,” she said, though the word felt heavy in her mouth.

Chris didn’t push, but his gaze lingered on her profile, studying the way her jaw tensed, the way her eyes stayed fixed on the horizon as if she was afraid to meet his.

After a long pause, Star exhaled shakily, the words falling from her mouth before she could stop them. “The hospital…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “It brought back some things.”

Chris stayed quiet, giving her the space to continue.

“My mom died in a car accident,” Star said, her voice trembling slightly. “She was trying to bring me an essay I’d left at home. She knew how much it meant to me, and she…” Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in her eyes. “She didn’t make it to the school. A drunk driver hit her on the way.”

Chris’s chest tightened. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t realized the weight she was carrying every time she stepped into his home, into his life.

“I haven’t been back to a hospital since,” Star admitted, her voice quieter now. “I couldn’t. Until today.”

Chris’s hand twitched at his side, and before he could think better of it, he reached out, his fingers brushing hers. “I didn’t know,” he said softly.

She looked down at their hands, her lips pressing into a faint, sad smile. “It’s not something I talk about, I hear about it enough from my dad” she murmured. “But… being here, with you and Lila—it’s different. Your place feels safe. And I don’t have a lot of that in my life.”

Chris’s throat felt tight. He wasn’t good at this—at knowing the right things to say. But he couldn’t ignore the pull in his chest, the way her words settled deep inside him.

“You’re always welcome here,” he said quietly.

Star turned to face him fully, her eyes searching his. The vulnerability in her gaze made his heart ache.

“Chris…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do without this. Without Lila. Without you.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, he didn’t move. But then, before he could talk himself out of it, he stepped closer, his hand brushing against her cheek.

“y/n,” he murmured, his voice rough but gentle. “If I kissed you right now, would you stop me?”

Her lips parted slightly, her breath hitching. For a moment, she didn’t answer, the weight of the question settling between them. Then, she shook her head, her voice soft but steady.

“I’d really, really like it if you kissed me.”

Chris’s chest tightened, and he didn’t hesitate this time. He closed the small distance between them, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was as much a confession as it was a promise.

Star’s hands found their way to his chest, gripping his shirt lightly as she leaned into him. The kiss was slow, tentative at first, but it deepened as the weight of their unspoken feelings spilled over.

When they finally broke apart, Chris rested his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her skin.

“You scare the hell out of me,” he admitted quietly.

Star laughed softly, her hands still pressed against his chest. “You’re not exactly the safest thing either.”

Chris’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, and for once, he didn’t try to hide it.

“You should stay,” he said softly. It wasn’t a question.

Star nodded, her voice barely audible. “Okay.”

Chris exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as he stepped back, holding the door open for her.

Star followed him inside, her heart still racing.

Maybe this was dangerous. Maybe it would hurt later.

But for now, it felt safe.

AUTHORS NOTE: the “i’d really really like it if you kissed me” line was sooo ib something @bernardsbendystraws responded to an ask to. i seen it on my feed and it literally screamed star & chris idk! anywho they kissed, fr this time and this has opened so many doors to potential blurbs, you’re getting fed.

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife @mattsmunch @pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111 @pvssychicken @mattslolita @stvrnzcherries @dottieboo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @bluestriips @sturniolo-fann @coquettechris

[potchi-fics]

councilor

i | ii

summary: a councilor reader and councilor sevika finally meet again after not seeing each other for years.

      a councilor is what you are gonna be from now on. may torman hoskel rest in peace, but he was as useless as a paralyzed kid given a bicycle– you suppose he did one good thing: voted for peace, but all in all, he did very little for being someone higher in ranks.

“madam,” your assistant, you consider her a friend, “it is almost time for your meeting.”

       you take one last glance at yourself in the mirror, you are wearing an elegant black silk dress adorned with silver accessories, and paired with black heels. you step outside to find your assistant waiting at your door holding a paper and pen. she nods at you as greetings.

your heels click against the tiles as you signal her to walk beside you, “how are you feeling today, alexandria?” 

“i must be the one asking you that,” a chuckle escapes from her, “councilor.”

your eyes roll at the title, “not yet, child.”

      you are decades older than your assistant, you have taken her under your wing; guiding and teaching her ever since she was a child. today is the day you get assigned to be a councilor for your house, for your nation. and, you vow to do and be better than the so-called councilor torman hoskel. just the thought of the useless man taints your good mood, your lips forming a thin line. too busy judging the dead in your mind, you do not notice that you have reached your destination: the councilors’ chambers.

“nervous?” your gaze travels from the door to alexandria, seeing her offer a comforting smile.

however, you only smirk cockily, “you should know by now that i do not do nervous. wait for me, will you?”

      and with that, you open the doors, swinging it open and catching the attention of the other councilors. they quiet down as you walk inside, offering them fake sweet smiles: what a bunch of low-class backstabbing morons.

you know what they are, a bunch of money and power-hungry freaks who do not care for anything other than themselves, sharks are what they are. you let your eyes roam around the room, taking in familiar faces— though you could only recognize a few, councilor shoola, former councilor caitlyn, and councilor salo. your smirk widens at the sight of the latest addition to the councilors, happy to see councilor sevika.

“welcome, councilors,” your attention is brought back to the center when you hear caitlyn’s booming voice, “thank you for making time for this meeting. as you all can see, a new figure will be sitting at this table in turn to replacing councilor torman hoskel.”

      in cue, all of the members stare at you, their eyes already judging and scrutinizing your entire being. you strut to where your seat is located, beside councilor salo: just my luck. you lock eyes with every single one, lingering your gaze on a certain zaunite a little longer. 

“anything you would like to say, councilor?” caitlyn asks you.

however, you only shake your head and dismiss the question, “with all due respect, i would like to keep this short.”

“quite rude, aren’t you? but i agree, i believe that there are more important things to talk about, zaun to be specific.” councilor salo laced his voice with disgust at the word zaun but before he could continue, you stepped in.

you bark a laugh, “well, you didnt see me calling you rude when i noticed you guesstimating me earlier, break a leg in getting better, councilor salo.”

      before it could escalate, caitlyn cleared her throat and concluded the meeting. she briefly mentioned that this day was for them to get to know you better but you dont think that’s happening anytime soon due to the scene you displayed earlier. to be fair, you always stand your ground. you see caitlyn approach you, along with her guard dog behind her.

“ms. kiramman,” you offer them both a nod of acknowledgment. 

vi snorts, making you raise your eyebrow, “sorry, but i just find it funny when you said break a leg on getting better.”

“stop,” caitlyn tries to scold her but its no use when vi’s barely holding in her laugh, “that certainly was unexpected. im looking forward to seeing your plans in action, councilor.”

“i was only…” your voice trails off, you take a seat on the side of your chair, “biting back, ms. kiramman. tell me, ms. kiramman, do you think that this council of ours can change the predicament we are in?”

she takes a moment before answering, “i am… unsure, but im looking on the bright side of it. ive heard about you, councilor, i know that you will do everything in your power to have what you want, that is why i voted for you to be seated in.”

“oh?” you cross your legs, the slit in your dress offering them a sight of your smooth leg, “buttering me up, ms. kiramman?”

      not only did caitlyn take the bait, you see vi take a peek at your exposed limb. you lean back and smile teasingly at the two, raising your perfectly sculpted eyebrow once again— causing the couple to flush bright pink. they bid you goodbye and it amuses you how they manage to bicker, you giggle knowing you were able to fluster them. you crack your knuckles and stretch your back, your eyes landing back on her.

councilor sevika.

oh, but she is already looking at you. oh, indeed. you uncross your legs and without breaking the eye contact, you saunter to where she is— only stopping when you are right in front of her. you address her.

“councilor shoola,” a hand darts out to propose a handshake. “it is nice to finally meet you. i believe our nation had been involved in a trading a while ago?”

councilor shoola accepts your handshake, “yes, yes, you’re correct. im also looking forward to working with you. i apologize for cutting our meeting short, but i need to talk about something with council–”

      you do not let her finish, you give her way, silently saying that it’s okay— she nods her head as a thank you and makes her way, leaving only you and sevika alone. 

your voice drops an octave lower, “councilor sevika, it is a pleasure to finally talk to you. i have heard many great things about you.”

“yeah?” her gruff voice weakens your knees, “bet it’s just me killing someone.”

      her eyes roll because that’s how the topsiders are, always mislabelling and spreading rumors. they were right of course but they don’t need to generalize her people. 

so grumpy, you think to yourself. “believe me, councilor, i have. also, aren’t you excited to see me?”

      you flutter your eyelashes at her, making yourself look just a tiny bit smaller. but all you get is a roll of eyes and a huff. but you do not let this bother you, you are here to work too after all.

“for what it is worth, sevika,” your arm moves to touch her bicep, “it is great to see you here, representing zaun.”

      her arm feels like it's on fire, and your touch feels like it's on fire. she looks down at your hand on her arm for a second before subtly shrugging it off. 

she stares coldly at you, “yeah, well, i need to do something or my home will fall apart.”

“yes, i am aware. and, for you to be able to achieve that, you will need help.” sevika shakes her head to interfere but you continue, “you will need resources, councilor, you will need funding and i will give it you— i will help you get it.”

“i do not need your hel–”

this time, you glare at her— your eyes seeming to glint dangerously under the light, your arms crossing, “shut it, councilor, you need me.” 

      you take a couple of steps towards her, uncrossing your arms and putting a finger underneath her strong jaw, you slowly lift her head. you mouth the words you need me; tapping her cheek and turning around to leave the room— not even caring to bid your farewell. she sees you talking with your assistant, and getting one last look from you before the door shuts behind you.

since when were you so commanding and assertive. sevika’s core clenched at your tone, her breath hitches, and her pupils dilating.

oh.

[sansaorgana]

— BLESSED (II)

PART ONE || PART THREE

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!half-Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — You find out your husband's true identity when Eregion is under attack. It is hard to tell which one is worse – the betrayal that you feel or witnessing how influenced by his evil your daughter already is.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I said there would be a second part, so here it is. But as usual, I could not stop writing and... there will be a third part, too! 🤣 Basically, in this part, Sauron is walking inside the rooms rapidly nearly all the time, which is something I realised later while re-reading the fic but I couldn't edit it since it made sense for the plot (and he was doing that a lot in canon, too).

WARNINGS — Reader's father is dead (he was human, so she outlived him), manipulating, gaslighting, lowkey toxic and abusive marriage between the Reader and Annatar Sauron, he gets angry at his daughter once or twice but he is not violent towards her (should not trigger anyone but I wanted to mention it just in case) + he is manipulating his daughter a lot, Celebrimbor has gone mad-mad, Reader being put to sleep against her will, trigger warnings from S02E07 (Sauron murdering the guards etc.)

WORD COUNT — 5,240

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

BLESSED (II)

You were sitting inside your chambers in the evening all alone and embroidering for your daughter. Your only company was a slowly burning candle as you focused on the beautiful gemstones that were appearing thanks to your needle. Almárea had always been interested in the craft of smithery and it was no surprise. Her grandfather had been an excellent smith and so was her father. Uncle Celebrimbor perhaps was not related to her but she had been growing up around him. And, recently, her new favourite thing to do was to spend time with him in the forge, learning everything she could about the craft. She was there at the moment, too.

And where Annatar was, you had no idea. Most likely with them or helping to run the city. Ever since Celebrimbor’s health had been getting worse, your husband was helping you with the administration matters around Eregion, for which you were the most grateful. He did not wish you to overwork yourself.

You heard a booming sound from the distance, which startled you slightly. However, you gave it no second thought. But when the sound began to repeat itself, you stood up and approached the window worryingly. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the fire burning in the distance and you spotted a cannonball coming closer and closer to Eregion.

You could see it all in slow-motion how it hit one of the towers of your city. You let out a scream and covered your mouth with a trembling hand. The very foundations of the tower you were in shook and made you hurry for the doors, desperate to find the ones you loved the most.

But before you could reach them, they opened widely and Annatar stood in them. He was oddly calm but oh, of course he was – an emissary of The Valar would not be ever scared and his calmness would bring nothing but peace in the times of trouble.

“We are under attack,” he announced and you grabbed his sleeve to squeeze the fabric and pull on it, holding onto him like a child. “Stay here.”

“But… Almárea… She’s in the forge with Celebrimbor…” You sobbed and yelped at the sound of another cannonball hitting Eregion.

“Do not be afraid,” Annatar put his arm around you and walked you back to your chair where he was trying to sit you down but you refused.

“Almárea and uncle Celebrimbor… I must go for them…”

“I shall go,” Annatar assured you and finally managed to sit you down by the table. “My love, stay here.”

“Should we not evacuate?” You asked, looking up at him with glistening eyes. Whatever he would say, you would listen, do and follow. You trusted him with your whole life.

“When the right time comes. Until then, stay here, so I do not lose you in the crowd,” Annatar instructed and left your chambers.

You wiped your tears with a shaky hand and felt the ground under your feet shaking once more. A while after his departure, you realised that his request was deeply concerning. Staying inside this tower could mean death to you, after all. There was no guarantee that the next cannonball would not hit your tower.

You moved up once more and ran to the doors but they were locked, which made you furrow your brows. You kept pulling the handle but without any success. Even when you used all of your force, they did not move an inch.

The sounds of cannonballs and people screaming in terror were reaching your ears from afar as your anxiety grew. How could your husband ask you to stay inside in a moment like this – especially with your daughter being far away from you? Your heart could not rest until you were sure that Almárea was safe.

You hurried to the balcony and looked up at the tower next to yours. The fire inside the forge was still on, you noticed. But you kept waiting and waiting for your husband’s return and there was nobody coming.

You were circling around the room nervously, trying to think of a way out. Almárea was all you could think of – your sweet daughter, your purpose in life, your little blessing. You had to be with her, you had to protect her.

And as you nearly broke down in tears of helplessness, you felt another cannonball hitting nearby. The force of that hit was so strong that you fell over, feeling the floor underneath you tilting slightly. When you dared to open your eyes, fearing what you would witness, you realised that half of the tower you were locked inside was in ruins now. Including the wall in front of you, which allowed you to run out without using the locked doors.

You did not think of anything else, leaving all your properties behind as you gathered your skirts and managed to get to the corridor, coughing heavily from all the dust.

The staircase was wobbly and you knew each step could cause you to fall down but you were too determined to overthink that. Step by step, as fast as you could, you ran downstairs and hurried across the courtyard, bumping into other screaming and terrified people, until you reached the doors to Celebrimbor’s forge.

What you witnessed, shocked you dearly. Because despite the siege around you, you spotted your uncle and daughter working on some design cheerfully.

“Almárea!” You called out for her, making them both turn around with widened eyes. “Uncle! What are you doing?!” You hurried to their side and put your arms around your daughter protectively. “Can’t you see and hear what is happening outside?! We must leave, this very moment!”

“What are you talking about, child?” Celebrimbor chuckled at you as if you were the crazy one. His eyes were full of joy but you also spotted a haze in them, a deep fog as if he had lost his mind. Your heart ached for him because his state had been worsening for weeks now.

“Uncle… Please, we must go,” you reached out to hold his wrists but he winced and pushed you away.

“No! I must not stop my work. What are you talking about, (Y/N)? Look at the state of you, you look like a slattern,” he pointed out and his words hurt you deeply. Of course you looked like a slattern. There was a siege happening and you crawled yourself out of the tower’s ruins to get here. “Almárea, your mother must be feverish,” he addressed your daughter.

“Almárea, my darling, we have to go and we have to take uncle with us,” you tried to explain it to her in the simplest way but she took a step back from you as she shook her head and the bow in her head bounced slightly.

“No. Daddy asked me to stay here and watch over uncle Celebrimbor,” she explained.

“Almárea, that is very noble but we are under attack,” you were trying to remain calm despite the noises reaching your ears from the outside. You knew that you had no time to argue. “Whatever your daddy asked you to do, it has no significance now.”

“But he has been here only recently,” she answered and you opened your mouth slightly, surprised. “He told me to keep up my work,” she added, proudly. “Uncle, go back to your craft. Mummy is sick indeed,” she addressed Celebrimbor and he nodded at her before giving you a dirty look and going back to his designs of the Rings.

“Almárea, it is not safe, we must leave. What are you doing to him?” You asked her, unsurely. You were scared to hear the answer as you crouched down to be on her level.

Your sweet, little daughter. Your blessing. Why was there so much malice in her eyes now?

The doors of the forge opened rapidly and you stood up at the sight of Annatar rushing inside. At first, you did not recognise him because his kind and loving face was twisted in anger as his soft eyes reminded you of nothing but black, empty abysses.

“What are you doing here?!” He barked at you. “I saw the cannonball hitting our tower, I rushed there and it was empty. Do you have any idea how worried I was?!” He raised his voice at you but you could not hear any concern in it – only fury.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and put your hands on Almárea’s shoulders.

“It is you who should explain yourself to me,” you tried to sound harshly but it was coming to you with great difficulty. After all, it was your husband, whom you loved and respected greatly. “Why is Almárea here and what is she doing to my uncle? You promised me you would come for them and we would evacuate together,” you pointed out.

“Not until the Rings are finished,” Annatar answered. “Almárea, are you keeping up the good work?” He addressed her softly.

“Yes, daddy,” she nodded her head with a grin and Annatar smiled before approaching Celebrimbor.

“How fares your progress?” He asked him.

“It would be better if your wife was not distracting me. She is feverish, you should take her back to your chambers and put her to bed. Call for a medic if you must,” Celebrimbor mumbled out.

“Is everyone going insane here?! We are under attack!” You exclaimed out of desperation.

“Almárea,” was all your husband said before she nodded and tilted her head

Suddenly, you felt dizzy. You let go of her arms and stumbled, grabbing the edge of Celebrimbor’s desk. You laid your free hand on your forehead and felt how hot the skin was.

“Oh, I… I… I do not feel well,” you whispered.

Annatar hurried to your side and slowly wrapped his arms around yours to help you move away.

“My gentle darling, you have a fever. You must have had a nightmare,” he told you sweetly. “I told you to stay in bed.”

“You… You did?” You asked but your mind was in a haze.

“Please, lay down,” Annatar helped you to get comfortable on a chaise longue in Celebrimbor’s study. He caressed your forehead and you could hear him walk away since your vision was too blurry to see anything. “Almárea, your mummy needs to rest,” you heard him whisper before your eyelids got too heavy to keep them open and you drifted off to the land of dreams.

You had no idea for how long you had been sleeping. Could be hours and could be days. When you opened your eyes again, you realised with terror that the forge was a mere shadow of its own glory. It was in ruins now and everything was dull, grey and full of dust. You stood up rapidly with your heart pounding inside your chest from the anxiety – Almárea and her safety were all you could think of.

And there she was, sitting boredly on top of Celebrimbor’s desk. They both had clothes and faces dirty from the ashes but he kept working cheerfully as your daughter was looking down at him and swinging her legs.

“Oh, mummy,” she smiled at the sight of you. “I am glad you woke up. I am so bored here and daddy keeps saying I must go on until uncle’s work is finished,” she sighed and jumped down onto the floor.

“What… What are you doing? What are you doing exactly?” You asked her, carefully. Your head was still heavy from the sleep induced upon you and your memories of what had happened were foggy.

“Daddy says uncle Celebrimbor must finish the Rings for men but he would be scared of what is going on outside, so while daddy helps to run Eregion, I am here, making sure uncle Celebrimbor has no idea about anything,” she revealed and you gasped.

At that moment, the doors opened and Annatar walked inside. His skin and robes were not dirty at all as if he was above the siege. For the first time in your life, you were scared at the sight of him as you swallowed thickly, so deeply confused.

“The Rings. Are they finished?” He asked and closed the doors behind him. Then, he spotted you being awake and turned around slowly with a puzzled expression. “Almárea, why is your mother awake?”

“I was bored, daddy,” Almárea whined and you watched Annatar’s face muscles twitching as he clenched his jaw and gave your daughter a look so scolding that she approached you to seek safety.

“She is only a child, what do you expect?” You asked him. “You have burdened her with a task that is too heavy for her. It would be too heavy for anyone. The measures you are taking to finish the creation are unholy,” you took a deep breath in and moved a little closer to your uncle with Almárea still clinging to you. You were trying to shield poor Celebrimbor from your husband. “Make it stop. Let us flee.”

Celebrimbor looked up at you, his eyes so full of fog and mist that it made you shed a tear of compassion as he smiled adoringly at you with nothing but pure joy. He had completely lost his mind now.

“No emissary of The Valar would do this,” you turned your face around to lay your eyes on your husband again as more tears streamed down your cheeks. He looked both – hurt to be accused and angry to be caught at the same time. The most confusing reaction you could expect. “My husband would not do this,” you added, nearly inaudibly.

At that, he snorted. And you only sobbed some more.

“Free my uncle’s mind, I beg of you,” you shook your head.

“He is not under my control,” Annatar smirked and looked down to meet your daughter’s gaze. He nodded and she squeezed her eyes tightly as she focused on something. When her eyes opened again, you looked back at your uncle but he remained working. “Her powers are too strong. He might be forever broken now,” Annatar pointed out with a glimpse of… pride. “Come to me, my child,” he opened his arms and Almárea tried to move but you tightened your grip around her.

“No. You will not go near that man ever again,” you said to her, harshly. Each word caused a pain, like a knife cutting your heart into pieces.

You loved Annatar but you had to protect your daughter from him because the man in front of you was… Was simply not the man you had married. Perhaps the burden of the Valar was too heavy for him. The task they had given to him had driven him and your uncle to madness.

Perhaps it was all your fault – by choosing to stay with you as your husband, he had to choose this form and stay in it, losing some of his godly powers. And his new flesh was simply too weak to handle all the power he had been blessed with by the gods.

His empty eyes glanced at you with so much hatred and fury that you felt smaller than a mouse at the moment.

“I am her father,” he reminded you, coldly. “Almárea, come here,” he ordered.

And you were simply too weak to fight it. Your limbs rebelled against your will as you felt your daughter leaving your grasp and running up to her father. You could only watch as your whole life was crumbling down just like Eregion around it.

“You are her father. But you are not my husband,” you said. “Who are you… truly?”

“I am the one keeping the storm at bay,” he answered, putting his hands on Almárea’s shoulders as she kept looking up at him with admiration. “Balancing the very sun above your head. All to heal Middle-earth and give your weak and pathetic uncle one chance to prove his worth. I want the Nine!” He yelled, making you flinch.

Celebrimbor did not, however. He only looked up at the mention of his name and smiled kindly at the monster you had to call your husband.

“I am working, my friend,” he assured him before going back to work.

You moved slightly to cover him from Annatar’s stare. But you were not sure if Annatar was truly his name.

To heal Middle-earth. You knew that story. You knew who had been the man with such a dream. Annatar had been mentioning it before but never in this way. But now it all made sense. It all made a terrible sense and you had been nothing but a blind fool. It should had alarmed you the very first time Annatar had used this phrase. But the tone of his voice had been sweet then; concerned. Now, he had revealed his true intentions.

“You are He,” you realised out loud with a trembling voice. In fact, your whole body was trembling. The waves of aftershocks coming over your body after finding out such a dreadful thing about the person with whom you had shared your chambers, your bed, your body, your heart and your soul… Your bloodline. “You are Sauron,” the name rolled off of your tongue like something filthy and dirty – the most disgusting. The Abhorred.

All those I love yous you had whispered to him, all those nights you had spent on whimpering his name lost in pleasure, all those breakfasts you had served him, all those hours spent on brushing his hair with your fingers and peppering his face with tiny kisses. All this time you had been doing nothing but pampering the monster. And all this time you had been living in an illusion – not much better than the one your uncle was living in at the moment.

“I have many names,” Annatar smirked at your question as if it was bringing him satisfaction that his silly and naive wife had finally realised the dreadful truth.

“But you are my daddy,” Almárea tugged on his robe, waiting for confirmation.

“For all eternity, my darling one,” he caressed her hair lovingly and an empty hole in your chest grew and grew as it began to sink into your heart.

You had married Annatar but you had a child with Sauron.

You were sitting on the floor, with your back pressed to the wall and your knees brought all the way up to be able to rest your head on them. You had no chains but you did not have to. Annatar – or rather Sauron – knew very well that you would not leave Celebrimbor’s forge as long as Almárea was inside.

So, you just kept sitting there and staring at her as she was standing above your uncle and watching carefully as he crafted the Rings. She was studying him and you smiled sadly at that because under different circumstances it would be lovely to watch her learning from Celebrimbor.

His mind was far too gone to know anything happening around him. The only thing he could focus on was forging the Rings as you kept overthinking your whole marriage.

All those little things you had been ignoring about Annatar until now – all those excuses you had been making up for him. Gods, you were such a fool. And you loved your daughter more than anything but you could not help a feeling that your womb had borne a seed of Middle-earth’s demise.

Why had Annatar chosen you? Now it all made sense – you were the most useful in his schemes. You were close to the man he had wanted wrapped around his finger. And you were half-human, which could push Celebrimbor into agreeing to craft such powerful items even for the kin considered to be weak and unworthy by many Elves.

You sobbed silently. Was it possible that this was the only kind of love you could ever count on? This twisted illusion, this mockery? You had been nothing but kind and gentle to him, giving him everything you had and more. And all you had ever wanted in return was to be loved back. To have a family.

“You are done now! Daddy will be so proud, uncle!” Almárea clapped her hands and it made you look up. She kissed Celebrimbor’s cheek and he smiled at her, watching her put the rings inside a pouch.

“Almárea,” you called out for her and she laid her eyes on you. “Give them to me,” you ordered.

“But daddy–” She started, unsurely.

“I just want to see,” you extended your hand and she walked up to you, hesitantly. She handed you the pouch and you grabbed it from her. “Mummy!” She whined.

“Undo what you have done to uncle Celebrimbor’s mind. Right now,” your voice was harsh but not too much because she was still your daughter and you could never hurt or abandon her even if the darkness was the path she would descend into.

She was still a child, though. And she was half you – there was the same amount of light inside of her as of darkness.

“I can only try,” Almárea told you and you nodded at her, encouragingly. 

You held her hands to help her and she squeezed them, closing her eyes and tilting her head as she furrowed her brows, causing a small wrinkle to appear on her smooth forehead.

When she was done, you knew that it had thankfully worked. Because Celebrimbor yelped out of fear as you kissed the top of your daughter’s head and ran up to him immediately.

“Uncle… Uncle, calm down, please, shh, you are alright now,” you put your hands on his arms and his scared eyes found yours with relief.

“Oh, my darling (Y/N), I have been in such a haze… He… He made me…” Celebrimbor tried to find the right words.

“I know, I am so sorry…” You whispered, your voice full of pain and regret.

“No. It is me who is sorry, my sweet child. I have given you to him so easily, so freely,” he caressed your face with his trembling hands.

“And I am glad that you did,” you sobbed and he furrowed his brows. “And I cannot ever say that I regret it for he has given me my daughter,” you confessed.

“He might never get The Nine,” Celebrimbor changed the subject and you nodded, agreeing with him as you sniffed your tears back. You handed him the pouch with the Rings and glanced upon the doors.

“Go,” you pressed your forehead to his. “Take them away from him,” you whispered. “As far away as you can. Quick, we do not have much time. Use the opportunity that he still thinks you are under Almárea’s control.”

Your uncle nodded at you sadly. He kissed your forehead and squeezed the pouch inside his hand before looking at your daughter with a sigh. There was no hatred in his eyes but a glimpse of sadness, disappointment and fear mixed altogether. 

You watched him leave and Almárea reached her hand out after him but you stopped her.

“Daddy will get angry,” she looked up at you, surprised to witness what you had just done.

“Believe me, it is for the better,” you told her and held her hand. “We must leave now, too.”

“No,” she stood still and shook her head. “Not without daddy.”

“Almárea, we must go. We must leave, far away from here. We must go to your grandmother in Mithlond,” you tried to lure her in by the mention of your mother.

But she had seen her once in her life and the meeting had been brief. They shared no bond, therefore Almárea was not easily convinced.

“Not without daddy,” she repeated.

“Almárea, I beg of you…” Your eyes filled with tears again. You knew Sauron would be back any moment to check on Celebrimbor’s progress and you did not want to be there when he would see that your uncle was gone with The Rings.

But what you did not want even more was to abandon your daughter.

So, you stayed with her and waited. You did not even know what you were waiting for – was it your death? Would he get rid of you now when you were not useful to him anymore and after you had betrayed him in such a way; convincing your daughter to release Celebrimbor from her control and letting him flee?

You would find out very soon because the doors of the forge opened and there he was, walking confidently inside with a smirk upon his face.

“Daddy, I am so sorry!” Almárea cried out immediately and ran up to him while you looked away, wincing from the ache you felt in your heart. Your eyes filled tears at her words. You only hoped he would not lash out at her. “I trusted mummy and she tricked me! She gave The Rings back to uncle Celebrimbor and let him go!” Almárea explained and cried.

Long silence occurred and even though you were not looking in their direction, you could feel the atmosphere changing in an instant. Thickening.

“Mummy is a twisted, treacherous little witch, so it seems,” Sauron drawled out and you turned your head around to lay your angry eyes upon him with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“How dare you!” You snapped. Who was he to call you twisted or treacherous? “I swore no loyalty to you, shadow of Morgoth!”

“Yes, you have!” He yelled at you and Almárea flinched, taking a step back. He walked past her to approach you angrily but you could not move away because there was a wall behind you. “You bound yourself to me on the day of our wedding!” Sauron pushed you, causing your back to hit the wall. “Where is he?! Where are The Rings?!”

“Daddy, we do not know!” Almárea ran up to you two and tugged on his robe. You avoided her gaze because you did not want her to see the fear and pain in your eyes. It would only scare her more. “Daddy, it is not mummy’s fault that she is weak. You told me that yourself!”

Sauron’s face was so close to yours that your noses nearly brushed against each other. His breath was heavy and hot, full of anger. You remained cold and still with tears streaming down your cheeks. And even though you did not recognise your husband and his eyes were dark and empty now, you dared to reach out to his cheeks gently. You cupped his face delicately, which caused his brows to furrow and his eyes to widen slightly out of surprise.

“Annatar,” you whispered softly. “Annatar, my love, come back to me. You bound yourself to me, too, dark spirit. Obey me. Release me,” you pleaded, desperately, feeling as if you were losing your sanity.

There was pure confusion on Sauron’s face at that moment. He took a step back, away from you and away from your hands but as they were falling down, you tried to extend them further and reach him once more.

“You are pathetic,” he pointed out, coldly. “I shall find those Rings sooner or later. The only thing you did was to slow me down but you will never stop me.”

“Let it be then… Whatever I can do, I shall,” you whispered.

He opened his mouth to say something but you were interrupted by a group of people walking inside the forge. It was Celebrimbor with a few guards. For one, foolish moment, you sighed with relief, expecting rescue.

He nodded at you softly to let you know that The Rings were safe and far away from your husband. You reached your hands out to grab Almárea and pull her closer to you. She let you and wrapped her arms around you to comfort you after her father’s anger.

“Where are The Rings?!” Sauron abandoned your side to walk down the stairs from Celebrimbor’s study into the ruins of the forge.

“Far from your reach by now,” your uncle answered.

“Then you are going to bring them to me and place them in my hand,” Sauron said, trying to remain calm. 

“Your hand will never touch another Ring again,” Celebrimbor assured him.

You moved closer to the railing with Almárea still clinging to you, so you both could see better whatever was happening downstairs.

The Commander of the City Guard ordered the rest to arrest your husband. Almárea sobbed and hid her face in the fabric of your gown as you caressed her back, soothingly.

You watched the soldiers stand in a circle around Sauron and point their swords at him. You put your hand on the back of your daughter’s head, making sure to press her face a bit deeper into your gown to avoid her seeing any glimpse of the scene underneath you by accident.

“By order of the true Lord of Eregion, you, Sauron, are hereby–” the Commander began before freezing.

In fact, they all froze. They all froze and trembled, whimpering slightly because they had absolutely no idea what was happening to them.

“You think it was only you and your weak fosterling who put themselves in my power?” Sauron asked with contempt as he addressed your uncle.

He raised his hands slightly and all the soldiers surrounding him killed one another instead of him. You watched in terror as their blades cut through their bodies and then they fell down, lifeless, onto the ground.

Almárea sobbed and yelped, managing to get out of your grasp due to your moment of weakness.

“Daddy!” She cried out for him. She was scared that the sound she had heard was of their blades cutting through him.

But it was not. And you watched her run down the stairs and ignore the lifeless bodies, as if they meant nothing to her, only to cling to Sauron’s waist. He wrapped one of his hands around her to pull her closer as he raised an eyebrow at Celebrimbor in a challenging manner.

The Commander tried to approach your husband carefully, extending his sword.

“Do not hurt the child,” your uncle ordered but there was no need.

Sauron did what you had done a while earlier and pressed Almárea’s face deeper into his robe as she was clinging to him. And when there was a guarantee she could not see anything, he twisted the wrist of his free hand and the Commander froze before turning the blade around and killing himself with it.

Only when his body hit the floor, Sauron let go of your daughter and allowed her to move. She looked up at him as if she was waiting for an order or a task to be given.

“You shall take control over him again and tell me where The Nine are,” your husband said.

“Almárea, no!” You screamed from the top of the stairs. “Almárea, please!”

“Are you sleepy again, my love?” Sauron looked up to ask you with irony.

You chose to be silent. To be put to sleep for gods know how long, to lose control of your own body and to be unaware of your surroundings was not what you wanted to happen once again.

MASTERLIST